"Ashe." The voice was cold and guarded. Iceborn or not, Ashe was not welcome among Sejuani's tribe. She hadn't been since she'd walked away from their blood pact years ago.

"I see Hildhur of the Snow Followers is still among you. How…predictable." The woman in question frowned at Sejuani's remark, whether because it cast a negative light on Ashe's reign, or because of the attack towards her own character, Ashe was unsure. Others tensed up beside her before Ashe held out her arm.

"Peace, Avarosans, we are not here to do battle." Ashe turned back towards the one she used to call sister. Her closest friend as a child. "Your remarks are as childish as your mother's actions. When will you grow up from your tyrannical ideals, sister?"

"When will you wake up from your delusional beliefs? You think you can lead the Freljord? You—who failed her tribe and her own mother?" Sejuani scoffed, bringing her flail to bear, "I should cut you down where you stand before you can desecrate the Three anymore than you have. If it had been me in your position, I would not have squandered what I was given."

The blood roared through Ashe's ears, but the deep bite of the cold seeped through her back, calming her down like it always did. 'Avarosa's' bow was hers, and no matter what her people thought of her, they were also hers. She would lead them all to salvation and peace.

"My mother led our tribe to their deaths. And you would try us again so soon? Must I remind you what happened last time we fought?" Ashe replied, her eyes staring into Sejuani.

"Your beloved isn't here to protect you now, warmother." Sejuani spit out the title as if it was acidic. Ripples of dissension went through the assembled Avarosans. Armor clattered and weapons sounded out against their sheathes. The air felt thick with anticipation—only for it to shatter at Ashe's response.

Ashe pulled the bow from her back. The chill dug into the skin of her fingers, the pulsing and nagging sensations grounding her mind. The smooth grooves of the wood soothed her agitation, and she soon stepped back from Sejuani. Her gaze found the large scar that crossed her face, cutting across the nose underneath those harsh, cobalt eyes that glared back at her. The white hair blew across her face in the harsh winds. Beauty incarnate.

"The Gods don't side with you, Sejuani. You lead your tribe to treasures and fame that are not yours. Yours will be a painful, slow, dishonorable death amongst the barren iceplains. Your people will starve, and so shall you. I am merely here to warn you—as payment for my broken oath."

"You…" Sejuani was at a loss for words, her lips tilting downwards. Out of everything she had been expecting from this meeting, a warning tithe of her death was not one of them. "You mean to scare me, surely. Soon we shall feast like the gods themselves! All that lay between us and eternity are mere ursine."

Even to her ears, her voice didn't sound as confident as it should have, and it showed. She was nervous. The Fury of the North, the Winter's Wrath, the incarnation of Serylda, the Warmother, was nervous. Bristle shifted in place beneath her, bringing her out of her mind to catch Ashe's final parting words.

"You know that isn't how I work, Sister. Time may change, but my love for you—the old you—will never change. Die well, Sejuani of the Winter's Claw."

He was awoken from his short slumber by a branch snapping and Ahri's voice calling out to him. He tilted his head to the sky, clocking the moon at about halfway through the sky. He had slept for maybe three hours. Possibly four? He didn't know for sure, especially when he hadn't been able to observe the tides and the moon in sync.

"I had a question for you, Percy."

Percy shifted in his tree branch, the sleep still heavy in his eyes, as Ahri climbed gracefully onto the branch adjacent to his. The moon had just begun to reach its peak in the sky, allowing the stars to still shine in their brilliance, but itself taking center stage.

It reminded him of Artemis, in that manner. The Hunt were breathtaking on their own—in their own human way. But Artemis was different. Not just because she was a Goddess—but because she was good. She was the antithesis of Zeus—even if she was nearly as quick to anger and held just as much wisdom.

While Zeus's wisdom was tinged with paranoia and his anger was as lightning—loud, hot, and came with waves of pulsing nausea; Artemis's wisdom was slathered with her mistrust and her anger was more of a knife. Surgical, prodding, before finally sinking into its target with full force. It was a sight to behold in his youth. Dazzling, in a manner.

Percy never really recovered from Artemis's death. She was a good friend, a great confidante through the roughest times. He wished he had been able to talk to her more often before he had become a god.

It had taken him until he had been a young god to finally understand the pesky rules in place as a demigod. Why he had never been able to see his father, why they weren't allowed down from Olympus, Atlantis, or the Underworld for too long, why they couldn't interfere for long.

They were Gods. Not in the metaphorical sense, or the symbolic sense. No. They were literally their domains. Chiron had mentioned the metaphysical when talking about God with the capital G. A being of pure essence; no body, no skin, no heart, no lungs; nothing that could be even conceivable by mankind. The mere thought violates everything that humankind built their society off of.

While gods had those, they had no DNA, no inherent flesh and blood, nothing but pure, chaotic energy running through what was basically a simulacrum (Annabeth had taught him that word).

He had noticed it when he began to see his father more often, later in his godhood. Sometimes, he wondered if his ascendance to godhood had doomed the universe. The Fates believed it to be so, after all. He was meant to die. Chaos was never meant to awaken because of his presence.

He shivered—there was an innate wrongness to Chaos when he saw them descend upon Olympus like a biblically accurate angel; he had joked about how that many eyes affected someone's outlook on life. Argus had nothing on Chaos.

Gods weren't meant to interact with humans for so long. Especially not with ones they grew attached to. It endangered the domains of the immortals—made them human. More stubborn and caring, yes, but also weak-willed when it came to the important stuff.

He knew—intrinsically— that there was a difference between him and Triton. A difference between the son of Salacia, and the son of Sally Jackson. Triton had been by his fathers side for millennia, yet his father never faltered in his duties. It hadn't made sense to him logically, but he still felt that it made sense. Surely, since he was a God now, it would be the same case for him?

In the same manner that Dionysus acted more mortal than most other Gods, so too did the remainder of the Seven. They were gods, yes, but not the same type of gods as Artemis or Hades or Zeus. They had grown up as an infant, born to a mortal parent, raised in human society, and ascended to godhood later on.

When they became gods: the sea upheaved, the heavens collapsed, and the underworld flooded the world. That was what happened when the Seven became immortals. Their parents lost sight of their responsibility in favor of the short term benefits of motherhood and fatherhood. Gods loved deeply and selfishly.

The world fell, and it was all his fault.

"Yes, Ahri?" He said at last, realizing that he hadn't responded and had merely stared at the sky for a few minutes. "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"Of?" She tilted her head curiously, reminding him of her vulpine nature. Her left ear flopped down and he had to hide the curve of his lips at how much it reminded him of Mrs. O'Leary.

"My home world. Regrets and ponderings of a life I no longer yearn for, yet cannot seem to forget." He sighed as if the world fell from his shoulders. They sat in silence for a few seconds, before he finally shook his head, "What was your question?"

She fiddled with the dirty braid she had done a few days ago with him—it looked like it had already begun to fray and was caked with dirt and mud and other things—before finally turning and opening her mouth. Nothing came out for a second, and her other ear drooped as well. He heard her mutter out her question into his head.

What happens if I don't like what I find about my family?

"Who can say?" He replied in a serious tone. His eyes locked onto hers. "Better to not worry about such things, and focus on what has happened and what you can do. Fate has its way of happening whether you want it to or not."

He placed an arm on the girl's shoulder, squeezing it as he pulled her a bit closer. The branch he was on was big enough for her to squeeze into his side.

"I will say this. No matter how much I disliked some of my family—I would never have wanted to not learn more about them. And half of them were basically schizophrenic in nature-sort of."

"What is that?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

"It's a mental disorder where you hear a voice in your head that isn't your own basically? Does that not exist here? I never quite understood the finer aspects of it—Apollo faded long before I thought to ask him." His voice trailed off into a mutter.

"Hearing voices is…abnormal where you come from?" Ahri frowned, no doubt wondering if she could be schizophrenic. Or was she making people schizophrenic when she talked to them in their head? Oh, that would be horrible.

"Gods, yes! Hearing voices where I came from was basically classified as you were crazy. You were born that way, I think? I think I heard it could sometimes happen under intense duress, but I can't remember if I ever found out that it was confirmed. But the gods had…hmmm…I guess you could call them sides?" Percy frowned.

He hadn't realized how hard it was to describe Romans versus Greeks to someone who has never heard of either. "My people—the Greeks—were overthrown by the Romans millennia before I was born. When I was born, long after the collapse of both empires, the Roman Gods hadn't disappeared—they had merely been assimilated back into the Greek Gods. Like two sides of a coin."

Ahri hummed to herself, but he could tell she still didn't fully grasp the concept. He shook his head, "But that is besides the point. Family mattered to me, no matter how bad they were—well except for Kronos but he ate his children. And if your blood family turns out to be irredeemable in your eyes, you can always find another family. I'll be here for you if that happens."

"…Thanks, Percy."

The night passed by with whispered dreams of times long past, and foreboding omens of future hardships, but in that one singular moment—the two were at peace.

As the sun rose from the west, the group had finally gotten their plan squared away. They would take a boat to the Great Barrier, and hope to circumvent the Guardian Seas that surrounded the northern part of Bilgewater. From there, it would be a straight shot south to the coast of Shurima at the Serpentine Delta. Then they'd approach the southern tip of Bilgewater.

It was to be a long journey, and Percy could feel it in the leftover threads of Fate—the ones that Lachesis gifted him as she crumbled to dust; that crawled and wriggled within his soul as he looked upon Ahri—that he had a lot more confrontation ahead of him.

"This is ridiculous, Yasuo."

"Put on the hood, Percy."

"I'm taller than everyone around me by at least a head and a half—I will stand out regardless of what I wear."

"I do not care. Put on the damn hood."

Percy crossed his arms and grit his teeth, biting out a swear in a language Ahri couldn't understand, before he finally relented with a muttered "Fine". Ahri let out a sigh of relief as the hood went up and the argument died.

Yasuo nodded his thanks before turning to the captain, "Thank you for the safe passage, I'lan."

"Of course, Master Yasuo. I hope your return to the First Lands is blessed by the spirits. Stay safe." The old man replied, his right leg shaking as he stood up and offered his arm to the swordmaster. Yasuo braced arms with him before turning away and walking down the plank. The dock shook underneath the group's footsteps.

"Let's find an inn. Fast." Riven muttered to them. Her eyes kept glancing around from underneath her own hood, nervously holding her bag in front of her.

"Agreed." Percy replied, a hand buried in the pockets of his new jacket given to him by I'lan. A dark green set of trousers, befit with a few front pockets, held his ring and watch. He had been quick to cast a quick protection spell on his pockets before departing the ship. He pulled the jacket closer around him, the harsh cloth hood attached to it scraping against his ears as he tried to find solace in the burnt leather.

Something had been bothering him since they had entered the bay's harbor. A force that had been upset at his arrival. Not quite repelling him, but rather a curious, powerful gaze that threatened to pin him in place if he wasn't paying attention.

He glanced around a bit, orienting himself in the hustle and bustle of the "streets" of Bilgewater. It was more a bunch of docks, quays, and miniature islands seemingly taped together with sheer determination and unearthly spite.

Dockworkers slinked around half-drunk or half-tired, merchants peered at passersby from the ashy, leather-clad depths of their stalls, and ne'er-do-wells delved into the deep shadows of alleyways and the pathways underneath some of the dockheads. Not a good soul in sight, he'd say.

He began to follow Yasuo, who had been quick to strong arm an answer out of a man passing by—something that made Percy grimace. No telling who the man was, or who he knew. Percy had dealt with places like this before, and if there were two things he learned from those places, it was to treat everyone like an influential enemy, and to never fight with the person who pours the drinks.

So when Percy saw another figure a few feet away in the corner of an alley—hiding within the skin of a large, gilled creature with huge teeth— staring intently at their little group, especially at Ahri, he did what he always did: confronted them head on.

"Sup?" Let it be known his vocabulary is immaculate.

The figure's eyes, buried underneath leagues of dark red ink and black makeup, glanced at Percy's arms before roving over the rest of his body. As his gaze continued upwards, his head tilted back causing the half dozen or so bells that hung from the tusks of the…thing he was wearing, to ring out a crude tinkering. The man—for it couldn't have been anything else, purely for Percy's mental health—chuckled up at him. The man's good eye glowed in the setting sun as a tentacled arm gripped Percy's uninjured one.

"You smell of the sea, young one. Tread carefully, for you may disrupt the Mother Serpent with your actions." He trailed off, the fake eye that sat in his skull began to fog up, a misty haze emanating from it before it soon dissipated, "Oh, and do make sure to provide offerings to her Grace before leaving port."

Percy nodded slowly, pulling himself away from the strong grip the man had. "Are you a Seer, sir?"

"Me?" The old man chuckled briefly before it devolved into a hoarse cough, "No, No. Maybe I could have been one, but now I merely carry Her history. I am just a priest, young man."

Percy nodded again. "Good to meet you, then. Who is this Mother Serpent you speak of? Is she in charge of this island?"

"Depths, no! The Mother Serpent is a goddess, young man. Of life, of the sea, of growth. She's in charge of everything. The sea, the quays, the docks, the people. Everything. I had thought you to be…but no, Nagakabouros would not have one of her own volition."

"Nagaka-who?" Percy uttered back, his clumsy tongue fumbling over the syllables. The priest didn't seem to be offended, as he merely chuckled.

"Nagakabouros," He said slowly, "The Mother Serpent. She protects and prowls the waters of this world, guiding believers to the rocky shores and crushing sinners beneath their wooden, barnacled hulls."

Percy hummed, his eyes flicking back to his group who seemed to be talking with each other in whispers. He turned back to the priest, "you said that she wouldn't have…do you know what I am, sir?"

The old man's eyes glazed over, a green mist echoing from within the pleasant orbs. The force that Percy had felt the entire time he was here seemingly doubled, causing his hairs to stand on end. "Son of the Seas—not of this world. Yes, I know you, demigod. You are no child of mine."

His eyebrow raised, but he did bow his head a little bit, "I mean no offense, Mother Serpent. I am not here to usurp the oceans. I am merely here to enact justice against those who tamper with Fate."

"Yes….I see now. The threads of life, they no longer weave. Lachesis fell to time, Atropos withered to dust, Clotho—poor little Clotho dangling from the ceiling."

Percy stiffened, his voice coming out strained, "How do you know those names?!" Memories flew through his mind, one after the other, before he firmly shut them down with his will. No. He had gotten past their deaths long ago. Nothing would change that.

The goddess merely laughed. The sound of a fog horn stuttering in the nighttime air. "You may use the waters here freely, young Earthshaker. But do note that not all shall be as kind as I. Meet with my priestess before you go—you shall know her when you see her."

With her permission given, the man she was speaking through suddenly shook his head. There was now a wild sheen to his eyes as he began to shiver with excitement. His eyes buzzed back and forth, looking up and down the quayside, "Depths below…she usually prefers less direct methods. Prefers whispered promises and sheltered contracts. What she said to you…No…no. You are not of her. But you are of the sea. Go. You must go. They will be searching for you. Seek the Grottos. Follow her will. Do what you must and then leave."

His voice came out as a hoarse plea. With the warning given, the priest shook his head and began to walk down the alleyway. Before long, his shifting form had blended into the even shiftier surroundings. He was gone before Percy could even think of a response.

"Percy?" Riven's voice pulled him back to the present, and his eyes found hers. She was still tense, eyes not able to stay on his as she kept glancing at people who passed by. Her hands tightened around her pack as she gestured towards where Yasuo and Ahri had already kept walking down the docks towards the island central. They must have found directions to an inn.

"It's nothing. Just asking someone about the place. Let's go."

The two began to walk side by side, soon catching up with Yasuo and Ahri. Percy stayed back with Riven, patting her shoulder with his hand. His voice dropped to a murmur as he pulled up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He watched the people passing by like a hawk. "If you'd like, I can probably use some magic to protect your belongings."

Riven looked at him, her lip nibbled upon by her teeth as she warred with herself. "Are you sure? I mean, I would be grateful for the assistance…" Her cheeks began to redden as she stumbled over her words.

Percy's lips curled upwards a tad. And with a flourish of his hand, Riven felt a wave of energy pulse over her clothes and bag. She felt the weights that had been sitting on her heart, and in her gut, disappear at the act. A sigh left her.

"Thanks," She said, a matching smile now on her lips. Percy clapped her on the shoulder again, before finally extracting himself from her side. "No problem. If you need anything else, just let me know. We're in it for the long run now…kinda pointless to be holding grudges and hate for each other, isn't it?"

Riven blinked. So he was capable of being nice.

It had taken them nearly thirty minutes to push their way from I'lan's boat, through the bustling docks, and into what could only be described as the slums.

Dark, dank, and filled with all sorts of malignant people. Shadows danced against the light's grace as night began to fall upon the waking city. The half-cobbled pathways bled into the muddy sidewalks—tufts of grass struggling to break through the evil that plagued the earth. The wind brought the smell of death and salt and brine. A chill went down Percy's spine.

They were being watched. Followed. Hunted.

Percy sped up, causing Riven to follow his lead. Her eyes discretely looked around for whatever threat Percy had discovered, but was unable to find anything. He soon reached Yasuo, and the man was pulled back along with Ahri.

"Let's hurry. We've got some spectators. Either we were expected, or someone's looking for some easy prey."

Yasuo grimaced. He didn't dare look around, but nodded just the same. "The inns up ahead. Down the street and to the left." They all began to walk a bit brisker, nearly jogging their way down the street. Lamps began to turn on as the sun finally set behind the mountains.

The group had just made it to the end of the street, and had the safety of the inn in their sights, when a voice stopped them in their tracks. A few guns cocked somewhere behind them.

"I heard you roughed up one of my men?"

They stood stock still for a few seconds, watching warily as a few men appeared from the side streets and homes. Swords and knives in hand, a few even had guns that reminded Percy of old blunderbusses.

Percy caught Yasuo's eye, saw his hand twitch for his blade, and shook his head at the samurai. He turned around, and was greeted with the business end of a cutlass pistol. His eyes traveled from the barrel of the gun, up the lithe arm that held it, and finally rested upon the person who was holding it one handed. He blinked.

He would forever curse his ADHD from then on after for what spilled from his lips at that moment.

"How much back pain do you have?"

She scowled at him, and before he could take it back, an explosion happened right before his eyes. His vision went white and a ringing found its way into his ears. The smell of sulfur sting his nose and he felt weightless as his back thudded against something hard. His mind swirled with half-completed thoughts and he could hear screams coming from his companions. His head felt as if it had been filled with molten lava; mind felt the person he had spoken to—she had shot him, he realized belatedly—walk over his body and towards his companions. His eyes snapped back open and frustration poured through his veins. He didn't know if he was frustrated at her shooting him, or at himself for saying something so stupid.

"I'm surprised, to be honest. I was under the assumption that he was the more level-headed one. It's a shame, really. Kid was kinda cute."

She was hitting on him now? She couldn't have done that before she shot him?

Percy couldn't help but laugh from his place on the ground, which caused several of the men around him to yell in fright. Their guns fell from their hands as they backed away from his rising corpse. He stood up, his head held in his hand as it throbbed in agony. He really hated getting shot. What was it with everyone in this world always shooting him? Why couldn't they just stab him like the good old days.

His anger began to spike. He hadn't slept in days, he hadn't really eaten since Weh'le, and he had been running on fumes for weeks. A little voice whispered in his ear. Promised the world bending and an ease of his troubles. The voice sounded so sweet and familiar, so caring and nice. Just like his mother. He leant into it, letting the voice embrace him. Warning bells rang in his head, but before he could stop, he plunged into the icy depths.

Percy groaned lightly as a round bullet pushed itself from his skull. It fell to the ground with a plink that could be heard for miles. He wiped away at the golden liquid that dripped from his forehead, making sure to burn it all away so thoroughly it wasn't even ashes.

The woman who shot him stared at him wide-eyed. Now that he saw her without the ADHD, he couldn't help but recall Artemis. Fair skin, shocking auburn hair, piercing eyes, and a few splattered freckles across her cheeks. She was tall, lithe, and clearly athletic. Probably in her late twenties. Maybe that's why she shot him—residual character from looking like Artemis.

Artemis was a pirate here, apparently. A devastatingly hot seductress of a pirate, nonetheless. He was going to have such weird dreams after this.

"Ah, yea. Sorry, sometimes my mouth works faster than my mind. Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I really am sorry for the crude remark, Miss…?"

She kept staring at him, and probably would have stared at him all night, if he hadn't snapped his fingers in front of her face a few times. He was getting really tired of stepping on eggshells around everyone, and he really wanted to sleep in an actual bed for once.

"Listen, I am sure there's been a misunderstanding here. My friends and I are just here to pick up some supplies, rest in some actual beds, and maybe do a little exploring of the mountains."

She blinked a few times, before stepping to the side quickly as she realized she was now in between a guy who she just shot, and his group of friends who saw her shoot him. Her guns found both sides.

"Who are you people? What are you?" She hissed out, her pale blue eyes flashed in the dying lamplight. Her hands shook as she stared at Percy. Percy felt his blood sing at the reactions around him. He missed this. Something yelled at him; told him to stop listening.

He couldn't ignore their sweet promises. Percy grinned at her, teeth shining and eyes glowing a sickly green, as he playfully bowed.

"My name is Perseus Jackson. Feller of Chaos, the Creator. People here have been calling me a Godborn."

Ooooo. So what happened? A big hug from Artemis to anyone who can guess what's just happened. We were talking about the pantheons after all.

We've made it to Bilgewater…more or less intact. We've met some of the natives, discovered some of its geography, and now met some of its power players. Oh Sarah Fortune, my beloved; how your blatantly commercialized sex appeal and misunderstood character in the comics, ruined such a creative and interesting character.

Small scenes are lovely for bridging two contrasting characters. Riven and Percy are….interesting to say the least. At first glance you could say they are the same—but they aren't. Riven is what Percy could have been if he didn't have a sweet and caring mother, trusted friends, and a caring girlfriend: a jaded, broken down warrior with few peers, lost within in a world that they can't recognize anymore. A guard dog to be unleashed upon enemies of the Gods. A destroyer. The End of Times.

As you've probably figured out by now (and if you haven't, that's my bad and I should fix that), this isn't the first universe that Percy has barged in on. He's basically the multiversal janitor—a job assigned to him by Lachesis before her death. You could say she was passing on the entirety of the Greek world onto him, as she was the last to fade.

Percy's bound by Fate—not Ananke, but the genuine force that is circumstance and chance—to right any wrongs in universes. Kinda like Miguel O'Hara. But less daddy and more don't kill me daddy(poor little Zoë(Percy's kid)).

I tell you all this here, because there will be no scenes from Percy's world, so it is my goal to make sure those who didn't pick up on the fact, know of what is going on at least. This story isn't about pasts, but about the future.

Anywho, please review and follow. Let me know what you thought as it is the best way to get my ass writing more, tell someone you love them, and I'll see you guys the next time I decide to post. Peace.