"Never let a man believe he can pursue a good end by evil means, without sinning against his own soul. The evil effect on himself is certain."
Robert Southey
Walk A Mile In My Shoes(I Bet You, You Can't)
1 August 2010, Long Island Sound, New York, United States of America
1 Hour since Gaea's Resurrection
FINDING FRANK HAD BEEN EASY.
Percy only had to listen for the whimpering.
The Son of Mars had returned back to his normal build of muscle and manliness some time during his brutal ejection. His imperial gold cuirass was dented and steaming, a fist-shaped indentation glowing white-hot right above where his liver would be.
What the Hades had the crazy bitch hit him with?!
Percy did his best to gently extricate his friend from his goddess-imposed torture, when it seemed simply breathing proved to be a mountainous task for the Warspawn. He handed him a block of ambrosia to nibble on once he was done, while he massaged his own bruised chest tenderly.
"Believe me buddy, I know the feeling." His joke seemed to fall flat if Frank's irritated glare was anything to go by, "Can I trust you to stand without heaving your breakfast?"
"Huff...huff...let me at the bitch." The Praetor of New Rome rasped out as he shook his meaty fist at the air, a crimson-red aura swirling about him as he slowly morphed into a great scaly grey Arthurian-era dragon, complete with wicked sharp bat-like wings.
"Alright then, we better head on back bef-" Percy was cut off abruptly by an ear drum shattering scream.
He gave you two guesses where it came from and the first one didn't count.
"Get us over there!" He demanded.
Draco-Frank took to the air with Percy on his back immediately, clearing through the treeline forcefully as they blasted back towards the battle in an instant.
His heart dropped at the sight before him.
The unconscious bodies of Clarisse and Hazel lay strewn insultingly in the muck with grievous injuries, their weapons lost somewhere in the bog. Clarisse's lower legs had vanished completely underneath a great stone boulder, while Hazel looked she'd be eating through a straw for the rest of her life if they didn't get her to a medic quickly.
And Annabeth?
Annabeth was held aloft by her neck with her legs kicking wildly in the air as Gaea squeezed her windpipe for all it was worth, primal rage written all over the goddess' countenance. A broken bone white blade stuck insultingly out of Gaea's collarbone, the grievous wound spurting steaming ichor freely.
Annabeth's Drakon Bone Sword.
At least that explained the scream.
Percy wasted no time vaulting from his perch.
Tumbling through open air untethered this high off the ground and at the mercy of Zeus normally should have had Percy leaking Hershey syrup, yet his phobia took a backseat as he crashed onto the goddess' skull feet first with a mighty crack just as his girlfriend's face had started to purple.
Her face...
Percy caught her limp form before she could hit the ground and sprinted away from that hellhole faster than you could say potty sludge.
Draco-Frank roared in fury behind him before basting the goddess in an endless stream of flames filling the darkened skies with acrid smoke, but Percy was more concerned with saving his injured girlfriend than getting his ass kicked by Gaea again.
Her lip was split severely, likely to leave a nasty scar, her right arm was bent at an odd angle and he could feel a broken rib or 3 right below her lungs with his powers.
Those were the tame injuries.
A bone white piece of shrapnel was lodged about half an inch deep into her left eye, permanently rendering it useless, the same shrapnel littered parts of her chest and arms. Just a little deeper. Just a scant few micrometres and Annabeth would have been gone to him forever, the sharp point of her own weapon piercing through her brain.
Styx, She could still die if her blood loss was any indication.
He wasn't a doctor, he'd never so much as attended the voluntary first aid classes back at camp. He didn't want to do something and risk hurting her further, yet the alternative...he tapped into powers he hadn't found a need to use in such a manner since his journey through Tartarus and manipulated Annabeth's blood to clot her wounds.
He felt a weak thumping on his chest. Percy's gaze drifted upwards from his best friend's broken body to her face, her lone eye glinting defiantly at him.
'Go' she seemed to say, 'Finish it. Don't let it all be for nothing.'
"I can't just leave you. Please don't make me leave you." He whispered weakly, his hand moving with a mind of its own to tuck her ichor-soaked golden hair behind her ear, "Just a little more, just a few more seconds okay?"
"Her...her wound...she'll heal it...if we waste...if we waste any more time."
"We'll find a way!" He shouted desperately, his focus going back to stabilizing her, "We'll find another way! We always do! You stupid stupid girl, why would you do something so reckless?! We could have figured something out! Together!"
Percy was weeping now.
His hold on Annabeth tightening in fear that she'd be lost to him forever if he left her to chance, losing her to the Hunters was preferable to the anguish he felt here. For years and years he'd feared that their forced-upon heritage would one day take her away from him and he'd be none the wiser, he'd tempered his expectations as best as he could and looked at a future in New Rome only semi-hopefully.
Percy had thought he'd be ready for it when her death came - it was a given for demigods - but seeing the moment come to pass, living with the reality that his rapidly-paling girlfriend merely teetered drunkenly on the edge of a sheer drop...it was killing him. Destroying him from the inside.
Annabeth raised her hand slowly to his cheek and began wiping away stray tears.
"It was the only way."
"It wasn't! Don't you dare tell me that!" Percy argued vehemently, his rage bubbling at the excuse.
"I'm sorry. For everything. I'm so sorry Percy."
"Stop it. I forgive you okay? I'll always forgive you. I'll always be there for you. Just shutup and let me help you Annabeth. Please."
The daughter of Athena shook her head in the negative as much as her injuries could allow, a lone tear streaking from her single orb to her lips as she sniffled.
"...We'll...we'll laugh about this someday...but you need to...you need to make sure we get to see that day...you need to go Percy."
Percy didn't want to go, that was the least thing on Earth he ever wanted to do.
But he knew.
He knew in his bones the only reason Gaea hadn't made the planet a divine concentration camp yet was because of the Parthenos' magic stopping her healing, any longer and...
Annabeth would never forgive him if he let the world burn on her account. No one would.
Not even his mother.
"Go Percy...go do what you do best." Annabeth smiled now, a smile so hopeful it hurt something inside him.
He didn't deserve that sort of adoration.
"Go save the world, Hero."
Her eye rolled back into her head in exhaustion as her body stilled.
.
.
.
She would survive.
The gentle pitter patter of her heartbeat was enough to give him hope. She was just asleep he knew that. She would live. His treatment had to have ensured that.
He had to believe that.
Yet, his core burned agonizingly all the same.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce the Daughter of Athena's ploy here. She'd worked with beforehand knowledge of his abilities to create a path for him to finally put down the goddess. She'd even offered herself up as a martyr to manipulate his emotions, making sure he was just angry enough to fight through what needed to be done.
And for the coup de grâce?
She'd used his love for her to guilt him into ensuring he had to make sure Gaea died.
Yet, even with this knowledge - or because of it - his rational thinking was still overtaken by all-encompassing fury.
None of this should have ever even happened. Annabeth should have never been hurt in the first place, her possible death should have never been a plausible factor in this war. Gaea and this war should have both come to a decisive end with that explosion, his family's lifeblood wasn't made to stain the lands of their home.
How many had fallen?
How many landmarks and memories had this accursed war tainted irreparably for all of them.
None of this would have happened if the Primordial before him had never been born, and now?
Now, Percy would make her wish she'd never been born, enough was enough.
He'd been more than capable to put together the motivation to go through with what had to be done rather easily on the short stroll from where he'd left his lover, to the crater where Draco-Frank was still battling the Earth Mother. The son of Mars was flagging now unable to do much more than scratch the goddess alone as he was.
The scant lacerations on the Primordials body were more than enough.
Percy wasted no time.
From his elevated position overlooking the combatants, he fixed his forlorn gaze on the messy wound the daughter of Athena had inflicted.
No. Not the wound.
The ichor.
Gaea's ichor.
He recalled the last time he'd attempted something of this magnitude. The irrepressible ecstasy he'd felt as his powers flowed as a stalwart partner through him, rather than an uncontrollable tool to be feared.
"Within you lies the inborn potential to mold reality itself to your choosing." She had said, "You need only grasp it."
He exhaled in finality. Only grim determination made itself home within the Hero of Olympus now.
He clawed a hand at the goddess and flexed his divinity, a blinding sea-green aura flaring to life around him as his gut unraveled within him. The earth groaned in discontent as his uncontrolled authority flattened the soil around him in a hundred-meter radius.
An intangible cord, invisible to the naked eye, ghosted the sterile wasteland the fighters had called a battleground. Splitting apart into ravenous hooks as they latched onto the homicidal goddess' gaping vitality and dug.
The blowback from the technique was immediately enough to topple him, something inside his core deforming and screaming in torment the longer he held on. His internal organs wailed in agony as what may as well have been Stygian waters flooded his nerves. He didn't quite have the time to think up a fancy Heel.
The sheer concentrated radiation in Gaea's ichor had his brain rebooting in earnest, lest it spontaneously combusted from hemorrhaging.
Akhlys was a mildly annoying drizzle of rain compared to the raging monsoon that was the Elder Primordial's lifeblood.
It was too much.
No one being should have this much accumulated power.
And she wasn't even close to full strength, what the Hades?!
Unpleasant didn't even begin to measure up to the soul-shredding throes he was suffering. But it was only pain.
And Perseus MXXXXXXX Jackson was no stranger to pain.
Slowly, mind numbingly slowly, his hold on the Primordials lifeblood became absolute. A shame the same could also be said for the pain.
The disfigured goddess froze in horror as she rapidly lost autonomy of her limbs, Frank the dragon also froze but his stunned countenance was more so due to the unbidden awe in his draconic features at Percy's powers.
A good thing too, holding onto the goddess' ichor was undeniably like trying to balance the sky and keep a firm grasp on Zeus' fidelity.
Any foreign interference no matter how minuscule would have the already unstable house of cards crashing down on him. Hard.
He was tasting yellow, black spots were dancing at the edge of his vision. He had to end this. Now.
"GAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
His voice had to have been magnified by some otherworldly power, as his screams of pain and anger seemed to boom from all around him, echoing as far out as Montauk.
He lifted the panicking Protogenos' profuse proportions off the ground and heaved her outwards to the Sound with the experienced form of an Olympic discus thrower, his body paddleballing behind her from their metaphysical bindings.
Percy's body smacked onto the goddess' rotund backside with the force of a speeding cruise missile, his concentration nearly slipping. He slowly climbed onto his foes shoulder blades and held onto the remnants of Annabeth's sword for dear life, unbothered by the sharp pain of it's razor-sharp edge as they sailed over the ongoing battle at camp and past the beach.
The glinting aquamarine blue of the Sound appearing closer and closer as the Son of Poseidon braced for impact on his ignoble steed.
3...
2...
KERFLOOOM
Y*C*O*Y*W
Cold.
That was his first sensation.
A bone chilling cold, as the previously inviting brackish water body enveloped the demigod in it's frigid embrace.
Content in leaving him an expired frozen husk at the bottom of the lake bed.
Weird.
His divine heritage had always kept such phenomena far away from him when in the water.
.
.
.
His second sensation was an eye boggling throbbing from his sternum as Gaea - unfortunately free from his control - chose to pummel Percy into a Demigod Purée for all the trouble he'd caused her, each connecting haymaker creating sonic booms in the murky depths with her enraged visage all but screaming bloody murder.
His water enhanced regeneration served as a boon and a hindrance as it only encouraged the goddess to cave his chest in harder and faster, but Percy had the home advantage this time while they remained in the water. His turf. He wouldn't lose here to an outsider.
His heart beat energetically as he focused his powers with his fury, a rhythm reminiscent of a Samba dance bombarding the bloody brine in rapture.
Through with being a human punching bag, he gathered the water above him in a replica of his own raised fists and smashed downwards onto his enemies cranium, the force of the strike sending her flying and leaving frenzied bubbles flying in her wake.
Percy charged at her diminishing form - his nerve-chewing pain ignored - as pure adrenaline straight from his heart had him seeing red. The strength of his hits unknowingly multiplying a hundredfold.
All power and influence the goddess previously had back on land seemed to dissipate the further her essence was cut off from it in his element, Percy needed her as far away from her domain as possible. There would be no second chances.
He had to kill this God.
He continued to unleash earth-rending barrage after earth-rending barrage upon Gaea's disfigured form, ranging from battering her body at mach 7 with solid water or flesh fists to ripping entire limbs off of her with his own bare hands, nothing was out of line for Percy as far as he was concerned.
He didn't even notice when Gaea stopped resisting.
Years later, mortals scientists and observers would recoil in horror as their satellites gave notice of a long thin streak dyeing the sea from Long Island Sound to the South Atlantic Ocean pure golden. That day wasn't today.
Percy stopped finally, when even the ocean and his adrenaline had decided the goddess had had enough. He gazed upon his work and nearly retched at the sight. There was so much gold. All around him and on him. He estimated they were about 3000m below surface level, a ways away from the Atlantic continental shelf, yet Gaea's radioactive ichor lit up the pitch-black depths easily.
The substance seemed to linger in the deep stubbornly, unwilling to be forgotten by the world.
Much like it's owner.
Gaea was still alive, though for how long was questionable. It seemed his divine heritage wasn't only a hindrance for him, the goddess' immortal makeup was the only thing preserving her lifeforce whether she wanted it to or not.
Her body looked like it had been pushed through a meat grinder before getting sorted through a malfunctioning shredder. She was a mess.
Entire swathes of skin and limbs had been ripped off her body, her face was crushed to a pulp with her lone ichor-shot eyeball hanging limply from its socket, her guts floated bleakly in the void as a devastating laceration extended upwards from her navel to her chest cavity.
Oh gods, was that her hea-
Percy couldn't hold it anymore. He let out a violent expulsion of bile and fluids that boomeranged back to his own face...and that was still less disgusting than the sight in front of him.
'What have I done.' He thought disjointedly, his hands clawing at his scalp frantically 'What the hell have I done.'
This was barbaric.
Plain and simple. Mortal lawyers would throw the book and the gavel at him if he tried to appeal for the motion of self-defense.
He'd lost control. He'd gotten in over his head and gone too far. Di immortales, boiling those harpies alive actually appeared to be the more humane action here, Percy had just torn a goddess apart.
"...ther,"
He turned his haunted, wide-eyed gaze slowly towards the broken goddess before him.
She couldn't still be capable of thought could she?!
He zoomed to her side in an instant, his vitriol for the goddess forgotten as he sought to make her departure as swift and painless as possible. If only to abate his own guilty conscience. The significance of the goddess speaking now when she'd been all but mute earlier wasn't lost on him, Gaea knew there was no saving her. Not with the powers at play here at the moment.
This was a death wail.
He craned his neck towards where he thought his Great-Grandmothers voice box would be, brutalized as her face was.
"Mo...ther...p...please...the pain...end the pain...I...I beg...of you" His victim bit out, her giant body shivering from the cold waters and the torment he'd dished out.
"I'm sorry," The son of Poseidon begged timidly, "I'm so sorry."
Nobody deserved to suffer like this. To hurt so badly they'd have to beg their own parent to put them out of their misery.
The goddess hadn't even bothered to place a curse on him for the Arai. She'd used what may as well have been her final words to beg for death.
Gods.
He couldn't save her, she was much too far gone to ever be much more than a grotesque invalid for the rest of eternity. And while some people would debate that such a gruesome fate was more than deserved for the Earth Mother, Percy was his own person. His thoughts, actions and their consequences were for him alone to bear.
Steeling his resolve, he uncapped his pen and readied his sword against the goddess' heart. Hoping that a single strike from the divine metal to her still-beating core, with her so far removed from her element would be enough to give her a painless death.
But, the very instant his Bronze so much as scraped the ichor pumping organ, a thick sturdy substance reminiscent of tree roots shot forwards from her core and ensnared Percy completely from the tip of his sword to his neck.
Percy shook with anger. Enraged that he'd allowed himself to get played by the Primordial, yet her pain-filled wails clued him onto the theory that this may not have been a voluntary course of action.
He shook even harder when the substance continued to crawl over him. Forcing its way into his body - uncaring of his disposition to the action - through every orifice he possessed until finally taking rest at the base of his brain stem and deep in his heart.
He let out an involuntary scream of agony, sending palpable shockwaves outwards to the sea for miles on end, as his brain was bombarded with what felt like billions of years worth of memories, sensations and emotions as everything about Gaea, the Earth, jammed itself into his very soul with the kinetic force of a speeding bullet train.
Every conversation, every kill, every moment of thought, the origins of her life as he knew it played out before his eyes like a sci-fi movie in fast forward.
Too much. Too muchToomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch. TOO MUCH.
Percy's body stilled as the strain got the better of him. His vision whitened as his own thoughts petered out from him like water in a loose straw basket.
Y*C*O*Y*W
? August 2010, Gaea's Mindscape
? Hours Since Gaea's Destruction
IT STARTED WITH A BANG
Percy saw Gaea as she was spat out from the Primordial soup of Creation inelegantly, like she was some toy a whiny child had long since grown bored of.
Already a full grown adult, the godling looked around confused as she tried to make any sense of her dark empty world, before steeling her resolve and wandering into the unknown.
He saw Gaea make her way about her own body for what must have thousands of years in solitude, felt her need for her progenitors approval as she tended to her birthright with care and love. The blossoming goddess had hoped with ardor that if she could achieve perfection, or something close to it, that she could get just a second of Chaos' company.
That she could be just a little less alone.
Percy watched on as finally, Gaea's mother made an appearance to her first-born daughter in a random snowy clearing. He couldn't help but think the place looked vaguely familiar, like he'd been there before and the trip wasn't anything special to write home about.
It had been years now - tens of thousands he estimated - since Gaea'd so much as felt her mother's presence on her, but her excitement remained palpable all the same, sending shudders over her still nude form as she struggled to stand upright under the Creator's scrutinizing gaze.
The normally haughty deity was so nervous she couldn't even bring herself to look past her mothers perfect neckline, for fear of somehow disappointing Chaos with any show of weakness.
Chaos. The First Protogenos.
The Creator.
What may as well have been the capital letter G god for him.
The Creator was perfection made manifest if he was being blunt.
Like the Goddess made perfection look so basic it circled back to looking artificial.
Athena herself would have had a conniption trying to find a minuscule chink in the Deity's faultless flesh sack. From the tips of her elegant, polished dainty toes to her sculpted junoesque physique, from her carmine, manicured fingernails to her faultless, timeless facial features.
Perfect.
Her cherry red lips, her void-woven gossamer dress that swirled with galaxies, her almond shaped eyes that housed literal quasars, even the way she crossed her arms behind her back was perfect. Her stance fixed at a flawless 90° degree angle as she gazed upon her child's work dispassionately.
She seemed more like Night than the Gaea he'd watched grow up. Detached and unbearably hard to please.
Or had Night incorporated her mother's general demeanor onto herself?
Huh? Food for thought.
Chaos didn't bother saying a word to her abysmally estranged daughter, instead choosing to toss a weighty bare butt naked individual to her child's feet and dusting her hands free of it in relief. Like she couldn't hope to be done with this interaction sooner.
It infuriated him to no end how lackadaisically the goddess was treating meeting her own daughter in so long, but this had already happened, he couldn't hope to do a thing here.
'And it's CHAOS.' He thought belatedly.
With the subject in question's moral obligation over and done with she turned away to leave, probably for another fifty thousand years again, when she froze. Percy's hopes blossomed, thinking that the all powerful deadbeat in front of him had finally gotten an epiphany.
One that pushed her to give her touch starved toddler a bone crushing hug, or a reluctant keep up the good work, or a freaking head pat at least. Those hopes ate concrete however, when the faultless forefather flawlessly swerved her daughter and leered at his position with avidity.
Percy was caught flatfooted here. He unironically looked behind him in the hopes he'd find an amusingly odd specie of dodo bird, but was met with nothing but – he kid you not - a stray snow-covered tumbleweed billowing aimlessly in the wind.
He looked back to see the Goddess beaming at him unabashedly, it was a smile that did things to him he wasn't quite sure he was comfortable with. On one hand she was a self-serving asshole, on the other she was freaking CHAOS. His more rational side won over though as he fixed his face with an unamused glare, half tempted to flip the omnipotent douche the bird.
He didn't though.
Even he wasn't that crazy. If the Goddess could see him, he didn't doubt she could touch him and if there was one thing he'd learned in his years in the business, immortals were notoriously petty to even the tamest show of disrespect. Entire generations of families had been left dead and forgotten in the dirt in the wake of a god's anger for lesser slights.
It was still very tempting all the same.
For all the fanatic awe her outward perfection inspired you'd think the deity would have a basic grasp of parenting and what it entailed.
Sadly, it seemed Sally Jackson remained the only goddess capable of such all-round perfection, woe.
Chaos, seemingly satisfied with her ogling turned her attention back to her downcast daughter, the Earth goddess visibly disappointed that she'd somehow failed her mother, and gently ruffled her earth brown hair in a motion that could pass as affection.
"I have heard your pleas, Daughter," The First Protogenos declared, her voice was layered, he noticed, echoing, and yet each word was unequivocally clear, "And I sympathize with your sorrow, do not mistake my silence for apathy."
Yeahhh, Percy called bullshit on all of that, but it more than pacified Gaea, if her smile of adoration was of any indication.
"This fine specimen before us," Chaos gestured towards the lump she'd dumped like an annoying sack of potatoes earlier, "Is Ouranos."
"Ur Anus?" The godling mispronounced timidly, her brows raised in innocent skepticism.
Chaos withheld an amused twitch as she continued, while Percy remained in gobsmacked awe as he bore witness to the first ever dirty joke.
"No child, Ouranos,"
There was a surge of power put into the tail-end of that sentence, as if the Creator was imprinting the name unto reality itself rather than her daughter.
A dramatic click rang throughout the frozen lands, sealing the name for eternity as the aforementioned beings eyelids shot open like he'd been pumped full of pure heroin.
The godling sat ramrod straight and gazed around his surroundings in unbidden confusion.
Though a bit of skeptical confusion was to be expected with a deadbeat like Chaos in your corner.
His Great-Grandfather got to his feet finally, and Percy immediately wished the dude had just stayed down. Did he mention the guy was bare butt naked?
Ouranos was a handsome being, Percy guessed. He was a perfect antithesis of his soon-to-be wife. Where Gaea's build was more womanly and curvaceous the Skyfather was rugged and buff, with a pale barrel chest already marred with teal chest hairs to contrast with his soon-to-be brides smooth caramel skin and wavy earth-brown locks, his impressive form was topped with biceps the size of bowling balls. The Primordial was clean shaven showing off his strong angular jawline, his narrow Grecian schnoz and shimmering cupids bow lips.
His azure orbs glittered and crackled with untapped power, as his long cadet blue hair billowed epically in the wind in cloud-like puffs. His entire presence screamed I'm Him as he fisted his barbell-sized knuckles and took on a gallant stance.
Percy half-expected an American bald eagle to come swooping down on Ouranos' shoulders, cawing to the tune of What I've Done.
The dude somehow managed to make standing with his schlong out look dignified. He was that impressive.
Surprisingly, the first person the newborn turned to wasn't his Progenitor (getting tossed aside like a soggy handrag would do that to you). No his attention was focused squarely on the equally stupefied form of Gaea. The goddesses gaze hadn't wavered for a second since the god's eyes had opened, it looked like she wanted to reach out to him but feared she'd hurt her new companion, or worse.
That he'd find her disappointing.
Chaos, ever the incestuous wingwoman, took this moment to chime in unperturbed.
"He is a godling, Gaea, just like you." The goddess said without emotion. Like she'd replayed this same movie scene thousands of times on her VHS and it had long since lost appeal.
"The Primordial Embodiment of Skies and all that they entail." She declared in that voice again as a familiar blue firmament manifested itself dazzlingly above them.
The newly formed heavens boomed in agreement, rushing downwards with vigor to greet their estranged half. It didn't seem to register or matter to them that the action would level their current plane, the all-blue forged on with the loyal excitement of a neglected golden retriever.
Clouds freed themselves from Ouranos' torso and hair to push back the ever-closing sky from crushing them, while Ouranos cradled an understandably terrified Earth Mother in his sculpted chest.
"Worry not fair one, the skies will never harm you," The Protogenos rumbled, "Not while I breathe."
Percy wasn't paying attention to the budding lovers conversation though, all too awestruck at the casual display of power the new god had just shown them.
The clouds had acted as a funnel for the sky conforming the bulk of its essence into a single ever-spinning point, yet right where the speeding tip was meant to touch down on the ground it was met with a...a distortion in space. The closer the tip got to the anomaly, the quicker it's speed and momentum divided itself without ever actually touching the distortion.
Oh gods, Annabeth would be frothing at the mouth just to get a glimpse of this. The sheer control required to perform such a feat with such precision - the sky had missed the earth's surface by a literal hair's width – was unfathomable. This guy had been conscious for all of a minute and he was already this overpowered?
Primordials were bullshit.
Percy was brought back from his musings all too soon by Chaos' amused voice.
"Excellent work, child. Excellent indeed." Chaos tinkled in satisfaction, "As I said before daughter, I have heard your pleas for companionship. Felt your sorrow from my absence, and while I will not personally give you my amity. I will not leave you to suffer alone."
Did this lousy nut even hear herself?
"Ouranos here, is to be your eternal confidant, your partner, your other half till death do you parting." Chaos was getting worked up now, her barely restrained energy carpet-bombing the land around lackadaisically, "You will move together. Share secrets and ambitions together. You will bless this plane with your bloodline's authority. You will suffer terribly, yet grow all the stronger from it."
She moved closer with each statement to her children, and grasped both their quivering cheeks firmly.
"You will entertain me." She demanded, her perfect face twisted in sadistic lunacy.
"Live my children, from this day onward you are wed."
Y*C*O*Y*W
Gaea was happy.
The goddess hadn't quite gotten the outward love she expected from her distant parent, but the little she had received and learnt was enough to tide her somewhat.
The Primordial knew now that her mother had been watching her all this time, whether in pride or disappointment was secondary to her.
Chaos had acknowledged her existence, there could be no greater honor to the Earth Mother.
The Creator was proud enough of her that she'd deigned to touch her, and her parent had seen fit to gift her with a companion.
A companion who while not the most emotionally available, still thought she was good enough to be with.
Her mother loved her Gaea in her own way. Of that she was certain.
.
.
.
What a load of submissive Minotaur dung.
'But 50 thousand years of forced solitude would do that to you,' Percy assumed.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Percy wasn't supposed to feel this way. Gaea had slaughtered thousands and daydreamed to the deaths of billions. The Primordial had brought harm to his friends and family, probably killed a few herself. She'd spawned and enabled the prick who'd killed most of his friends just last summer, who'd terrorized him and his nightmares for most of his adolescence.
She was a terrible person. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about that.
So why? Could someone tell him why in the gods' names he pitied her.
Why he couldn't condone going forward with her memories, knowing what was in store for her?
Why his heart ached agonizingly every second the deity heaped praises and gifts towards the manipulative snake-oil peddler she called mother?
Why his feet itched to dropkick the snot out of Ouranos anytime the abusive asshole dared to manhandle the goddess?
Percy felt like a traitor to everything he knew. The blood from the demigod's Gaea's forces had dispatched was likely still pooling at the moment and here he was sympathizing with the person who'd personally demanded their slaughter.
Caring for her like he would a member of his own family.
'I didn't need to know about any of this,' The godkiller lamented, 'Why couldn't you just let me hate you. Killing you was so much easier to deal with when I could just hate you.'
Black and White.
Evil and Good.
Aggression and Retaliation.
That was how how it'd always played with him and his enemies.
Sure, with the opposing demigods in the Battle of Manhattan there had been a vibrant splash of grey in his convictions, it came with the territory when you cried yourself to sleep after butchering wayward children all for the sin of wanting a modicum of love and respect from their parents.
But his immortal foes? Ares, Atlas, Hyperion, Kronos, Polybotes, Akhlys, Tartarus, Night?! It was so much easier to live with himself when he believed they were only trying to break him and his loved ones for the thrills.
And it'd been more of the same in his crusade against Gaea.
"This stupid hag wants all our heads on pitchforks this summer for breathing funny," He had thought at the start of their quest. "Freaking immortals."
But, could he say that proudly, to a being who'd been forced to handle a role she had no business being anywhere near alone as a newborn.
A being who'd been forced to fight reality-shattering wars for eons against her own siblings for the selfish ambitions of her tool of a husband. The companion who utterly betrayed her in the end, then told her to get over it.
Could he still claim that defense as he felt the goddess' festering rage at what had been hundred's of thousands of years of personal insults, as mankind literally took a shit on the goddess' body - the only truly worthwhile thing she'd ever gotten from her mother - then told her and anyone who had a problem with it to deal with it over and over and over again.
Could he still call Gaea out-of-touch with reality for wanting her own pound of flesh from the gods, as he watched them spit on their oaths and promises in high definition blu-ray, to a being so far beyond them it was laughable.
As they sentenced most - if not all - of her children to the Pit of Damnation for some sort of momentary vindication. Children she'd risked life and limb to protect, time and time again from their own father?
Could he still pull the victim card or any sort of moral high ground, on a goddess abusing her powers on people who could never hope to strike back, after what he had done to her the very second he held the figurative whip.
He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it.
Leaping into that kind of rabbit hole would no doubt destroy him. If he started wondering what could have been with every single god who wanted him dead, if he started second guessing drawing his blade on every monster threat he faced...
He sighed depressingly, for all his attempts to humanize the Goddess it was made abundantly clear she wasn't like him nor did she seem to want to be like him. The aged primordial had done and suffered too much, to ever consider showing even the slightest hint of weakness to anything or anyone. The 'Primordial War' - for all the scant bits and pieces he'd been able to gleam before getting pushed back forcefully - had more than taken it's fair share of her compassion and innocence.
She was a lot like him in that sense.
Maybe that was why he pitied with the goddess so strongly.
It was a sentiment that racked yet warmed his heart to an unwelcome degree.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." A shaky voice pleaded.
Percy's shaky voice.
The Godkiller choked back tears as the last of the goddess' memories he'd been allowed to see faded from view entirely and placed his astral avatar on the violet ethereal pathway of an ever expanding universe, stars and galaxies so close yet far and tiny he imagined he could pocket them for safe-keeping, so bright and inviting he knew he could get lost in them forever if he let his guard down.
Luckily the sound of Gaea begging for her mother's mercy again like so many eons ago was enough of a moodkill to temper himself, the desperate emotion in her fading voice a haunting malady bound to follow him for the rest of his days. Percy refuted his earlier statement on the goddess not bothering to curse him.
This sort of mental anguish could only be thought into existence by a scorned immortal.
"Not a curse Ελευθερωτής, a much needed perspective." A voice he hadn't heard in what felt like millions of years now intoned in his head. It was layered and rich, echoing, yet each word was unequivocally clear.
Chaos.
"Figures it'd be you who'd pull something like this," The son of Sally Jackson commented idly, "Can I ask why?"
"You retain the privilege to such an inquiry, yes." The First One answered amicably.
.
.
.
Percy's right eye twitched.
This smug bitch.
"Why did you feel the need to do this to me, Chaos?" He asked when the Creator chose to remain mute, far too emotionally-drained for snark.
"As I said child, Perspective."
He took back his earlier statement. Percy was biting down hard on his knuckles now, trying to hold back a sarcastic retort that would no doubt have him vaporized.
"Your kind, the mortals, have a saying that I am quite fond of," Chaos continued uncaring of his mental dilemma, "It reads: if you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat."
"And finally: If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb to defeat in every battle." The Primordial finished.
Percy was pretty sure he'd heard Frank raving about that one a few weeks back. It was something the son of Mars picked up from a book, he recalled.
The Drawing of War or something?
He pushed the discovery aside.
"That's pretty philosophic and all," Percy drawled, "But what does that have to do with me."
"..."
"Chaos...you still with me in there?" He asked as he tapped his forehead for confirmation.
"Yes...yes I am still with you, I ju-I often fail to comprehend how painfully dim-witted you can be on occasion."
The fuck?
"The point child," She continued slowly. Like she was speaking to a particularly dull neanderthal. It infuriated him, "Is that none of these statements particularly apply to you at the moment, whereas before you believed you knew yourself but not the enemy. Now you know and understand your enemy far better than most could ever hope to hold privilege to – you have borne witness to her birth and her death – yet you know next to nothing about yourself and how to proceed with the realization."
"You fought tooth and nail for the dreams of yours and of your fallen friends did you not? What will you do now with the knowledge that for all my wayward daughter's perceived evils, for all the hurt she has caused you. That she - your enemy - too had her own dreams she hoped to bring to fruition."
"That the all-powerful Mother of the Earth was also just a sad, broken child who desperately only ever wanted a family to love and to love her." The Creator concluded.
Percy took a momentary silence to gather his thoughts, Chaos' monologue was a familiar one even if it came from the wrong messenger.
Had he not found himself pondering the question earlier?
.
.
.
"...I don't regret it," The Hero of Olympus decided, "killing Gaea I mean. I won't regret it, it's not right. She'd have killed me and everyone I loved a thousand times over if given the choice."
He licked his dry lips and squared his shoulders, as he prepared for the but of his speech.
"But, I've also come to realize that the battle isn't always won with the death of a perceived enemy. I see now that a bit of empathy and understanding from both parties can be all the foundation needed to uphold nations."
And he truly believed that too. While he wasn't naive enough to think every problem could be solved with 'Peace, Love n Vibes' or any that of bong-puffing hookah your average beatnik nonconformist regurgitated, his fight and overall fever dream with Gaea had been more than enough to show he couldn't continue to live and fight in narrow-minded ignorance anymore. That simply waving a sword and slaying the next big bad wasn't really fixing or changing anything in the long term. It had taught him that there was always a bigger fish lurking beyond, waiting behind the scenes to reveal itself.
And, more importantly, that there should always be more than one way to handle a conflict or problem.
"Don't tell me you couldn't be the person I needed. It implies you didn't have a choice."
'Oh Annabeth' Percy lamented internally.
The Hero of Olympus didn't know whether his lover was just that much of a wordsmith, or if she was getting her quotes from an off-screen playbook, but her words made their impact to him all the same.
There couldn't be such a thing as I had no choice for the Son of Poseidon now. He swore to himself now and for as long as he lived that he would always choose to be better.
Whatever that entailed remained to be seen.
A foreboding bell rang and echoed all around him in accordance with his promise. Sealing it till the end of time or the event of his death.
And for once...Percy wasn't sure he cared which came first.
"That is a difficult standard you have chosen to abide by, child." Chaos' voice boomed from his mind. "You will regret your choice."
Her voice wasn't mocking, it wasn't even phrased as a warning. It was simply the truth from an aged, objective standpoint.
And yet, Percy didn't feel even the least bit repentant about it. He was a child of one of the Big Three, suffering and mischief had been his ever-faithful colleagues since birth.
He was a Hero of Olympus, from now till the end of his days and even further beyond that, he and his descendants were marked for death.
And above all? He was the Son of Sally Jackson.
He would always endure.
"I know," Percy commented finally, "But it's mine to make."
"..."
"Big C?"
The One Above All contented herself with pondering on this new normal, much to the consternation of her impatient interlocutor.
"Interesting" The Goddess intoned amusedly, that alone was more than enough for Percy to start searching frantically for any escape points in the star-lit expanse around him, "Yes, very interesting. I had my doubts about this iteration of you originally - sullied as you were - and yet...you may yet bear the will of the Well Counseled one even more so than your predecessors."
What was that about iteration again?
"I fear I have withheld your essence here for too long. Awaken proudly Godkiller."
"Wait a minute! What doubts? Iterations? You're not making any sense!" The budding Adjudicator protested.
"All shall be clear in due time, I will see you soon Περσεύς επιμένως."
Περσεύς επιμένως – Perseus Epimenos.
'Perseus the Enduring?' He translated automatically.
Was that because of his promise or...
No. Night had said the same thing too. Along with some other complicated drivel that he still couldn't make heads or tails about
He didn't get much time to speculate as he felt his soul begin to unravel rapidly from his navel. His audience with the Creator concluded.
His last coherent thought - as the goddess literally flushed him down from the universe like he was a stubborn skidmark on the toilet bowl - that he should have bit the bullet and given the self-absorbed perfectionist the finger whilst he'd had the chance.
Y*C*O*Y*W
? August 2010, Camp Half Blood Infirmary, Long Island Sound, U.S.A
? Days Since Gaea's Passing
PERCY AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF WAILS.
He'd almost thought they were ambulance sirens from the volume alone, but the pitch...the discordant tempo. The sheer vulnerability in the cries disabused him of the notion.
No machine could ever hope to mimic human fragility so soundly, no mortal instrument could ever hope to capture the innocent weakness of a wounded child so perfectly.
The realization got him to his feet in an instant, a stinging pain in his right wrist's vein ignored. He'd witnessed enough guiltless suffering for a lifetime to ever stand by as someone hurt, let alone an innocent kid.
He promptly fell face down on the floor the second he moved to actualize his will however, his ass tooted up skywards for anyone present to ridicule. He tried again to rise...yet faltered as history repeated itself.
What the Hades?
He readjusted his body against his abandoned medical cot and tried to take stock of his surroundings, the outside world put on pause as his brows furrowed in confusion.
His...room was spacious. Percy spied a coved teak wood ceiling not to dissimilar in design from that opera theater's Annabeth had forced him to attend during their evening in Paris. Strewn about his ruffled cot was a Celestial Bronze menorah of an IV stand, it's bags half-filled with all manner of liquids and chemicals as it leaked its contents on the silk white sheet.
No heart-rate monitors or those fancy EKG-thingie's though...he could either be in the camp infirmary or an advanced monster hideout, but why would monsters want to keep him of all people alive for so long?
Beside the cot was a dresser chock full of well-wishes, thank you letters and hypoallergenic flowers of all species. And at the furthest edges of his enclosure were pure-white linen sheets, likely put together to ward off any unwelcome visitors.
Percy turned his attention to the hardwood floor beneath him, and noticed it was chilly against his bloody palm, yet felt alarmingly numb on his now noticed bare bottom.
Was he...
He couldn't be paralyzed could he?
The son of Poseidon tried to recall any point in his battle, where Gaea had landed any crippling blows to his spine yet came back ruefully blank.
His bout with Gaea had been more one-sided than Ali vs Liston, and even then the ocean would have repaired any of those injuries quickly.
What was it Chaos had said? She'd kept him there for too long?
Yes, it was more likely he'd been unconscious so long his legs had fallen asleep!
"Momma! You gotta help us, Jaden's stopped breathing!" A meek voice bawled.
That was all the motivation the Hero of Olympus needed to get moving.
Percy grit his teeth as he got on his belly and crawled towards the grieving child with all he had, any thoughts that it could be an evil cyclops playing at his heartstrings pushed to the very back of his priorities as he pulled himself forwards with his cold bleeding hands. He didn't even know what he was going to do when he got there, Percy just felt he had to be there for that kid.
"I don't care if he's elbow deep in Aphrodite, get Solace in here! NOW!" A low, familiar voice growled, "Rachel? With me I think I heard something back there."
He heard a steady shuffling towards his direction as the voice got closer.
Hold up, did they say Rachel?!
Sure enough his redheaded what-if's sarcastic voice sounded clearly through the hubbub.
"You sure he's not just crying in his sleep again?" The Oracle of Delphi questioned tiredly.
"Does it matter? Don't tell you're giving up on him too now." The voice replied frustrated, "Every single one of them left him be-"
The partition sheets concealing him were pushed aside fiercely, revealing a sprawled out Percy Jackson clad in an open-in-the-back hospital gown, his pale ass out to the whole infirmary. A deer in headlights look affixed itself permanently onto his face as he gazed at the gobsmacked expressions of his visitors.
The "legendary" Godkiller studied his mysterious visitor from his cringe-inducing position.
A ratty pair of black high top Chuck Taylor's lay covered in an even rattier pair of dark ripped jeans. A deep-black chain that seemed to suck the light and life from anything near it remained anchored on his left hip, an empty leather scabbard on his right.
Where before the child had donned an oversized beaten aviator's jacket, the teen in front of him had parted with it in favor of an(you guessed it) all-black tee with a pale crowned skull in it's center, the boy's pale olive skin shivered in the chilly room.
His build was fuller than when last Percy had seen him, his arms and chest packed with lean taut muscles as his form rippled subtly with an aura of dark power. His onyx black eyes a conduit for such power, as his flabbergasted expression shifted to something more apoplectic. His midnight black hair rising slightly.
"Methinks your style could benefit from a splash of color, don't you Neeks?" The son of Poseidon joked nervously.
His attempts to lighten the mood crashed and burned however, as the tension in the room skyrocketed. Rachel's expression was torn between exhausted relief and deadpan annoyance, as her acid-green eyes flitted between the two powerhouses before her.
"Let me get this straight," The son of Hades growled lowly as shadows extended out of nowhere to shield his eyes from the light of day, "You zoink out for weeks in Tar-in there then come out a fucking Vietnam vet."
Percy heart clenched painfully for the boy at the stutter. That clenching turned to a frenzied drumming as Nico prowled towards him with all the lethality of a panther.
"You ditch us in the middle of a war to go head to head with a Primordial," Nico continued, "Then come back from that even worse than the sack of shit the Pit spat out."
The King of Ghosts had gotten to him now, lifting Percy up with a hand as he fisted his collar, his silver skull ring near freezing as it dug into Percy's skin maliciously.
"And the first thing - the first thing – your pale bleeding ass bothers to tell me in an infirmary full of dying kids, is a fashion joke?!"
Nico couldn't help it, he started to laugh.
A sad, hysterical laugh from the back of his throat that Percy shared nervously, as he feared further aggravating the manic child holding him within striking distance. Said wild child's laughs grew even more frantic as he noticed Percy's addition, the Son of Hades turned his laughs towards a visibly spooked Rachel Elizabeth Dare as he pointed at his captive in a Get a load of this clown gesture.
"WERE YOU DROPPED AS A CHILD JACKSON!" The Prince of the Underworld enunciated every word with a brain rattling shake, as he desperately tried to jostle the stupidity afflicting his friend with a vengeance.
A blonde-haired boy in doctors scrubs rushed in at the noise and visibly stumbled at the sight before him, before rushing at the frothing son of Hades and restraining him in a full nelson. Will Solace dragged Nico away from the disoriented Son of Poseidon, his wrathful captive screaming all the while.
Percy took the chance to rest against his cot, while his legs slowly regained feeling. His now dry hand soothing his thumping heart.
That kid was terrifying.
"LEMME GO SOLACE, HE'S AWAKE! LEMME PUT THE KELP HEADED MORON IN ANOTHER COMA WHILE I HAVE THE CHANCE! JACKSON I SWEAR I'L-"
That was far as he got before he was audibly gagged by the weary son of Apollo. Yet the damage was already done. All around the infirmary, patient's shot up in alarm as word of the Bane of Gaea's status made rounds.
"Percy's AWAKE?!" He heard.
"I knew he'd make it!" A small voice squealed.
Percy had even caught some muffled prayers in thanks to the gods, for his recovery. He heard the rapid thumping of footsteps coming to him, and belatedly realized he was still dressed in an open hospital gown. Rachel, ever the prophetic genius, had divined an eyeful of his crotch to children wouldn't do wonders for his dignity and rushed to shut the blinds.
"Give him a minute guys, he's been out of it for a while," She reasoned, "It won't help to crowd him so soon."
A collective awww man sounded out in the infirmary, but Percy was all to relieved to give it much thought. He still couldn't do too well in crowds.
Weak.
"Thanks Red, I mean it." Percy voiced gratefully.
"Don't sweat it," She waved away easily, " 'sides I was hoping I could get my own crack at you first."
The son of Poseidon moaned in resignation, because what the heck. He'd rather have stayed in limbo if it meant he wouldn't get hit every 5 seconds. He braced his chin for impact.
"Alright make it quick." Percy bit out, as he shut his eyes tight.
He heard her soft footsteps as she advanced slowly, his own heartbeat quickened in pace as she got closer while his demigod instincts screamed Danger! Danger! Before finally...
The Oracle of Delphi crashed into him with a bone-crushing hug, the acrylic-scented biohazard she called hair choking him as she buried her head into the side of his neck in repressed joy.
"Thank the gods," She choked, "Thank the Gods! I was worried Percy. I was so worried. Whe-when Poseidon came out with you from the surf-"
Rachel stumbled over her words messily as her body shook with muffled sobs, Percy held onto his old friend tightly as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. The boy hadn't given any thought to how much time could have passed in the outside world during his lesson, how much his perceived coma could have hurt his friends.
He felt like an ass.
You are an ass.
"You were practically dead Percy, your body was pale and so so cold." She continued unaware of his mental guilt, "Covered in blood and ichor and-"
The grief-stricken girl looked up at him, her green blood-shot eyes haunted as her lips quivered, "Your heart stopped beating Percy. Multiple times. There were talks of euthanizing you. Today."
"WHAT! Why was that even a debate?" He demanded, hurt flooding his tone as revulsion marred his features.
"BECAUSE EVERY MOMENT YOU WEREN'T DEAD YOU WERE IN AGONY YOU IDIOT!" Soft-spoken Rachel screamed as she pushed off of him. "YOU WERE CRYING EVERY MINUTE, HURLING BLOOD, CUTTING YOURSELF."
Rachel was picking up steam now, weeks of frustration pouring out of her as she pulled at her hair agitatedly.
"YOU HAD 2 SEIZURES TODAY JUST BEFORE BREAKFAST! 2! WE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE! MOST OF THE SEVEN HAD TO LEAVE BECAUSE WATCHING YOU KILL YOURSELF WAS KILLING THEM!"
His red-haired friend held herself tightly at her sides as an unhinged, hazy look entering her eyes as her breaths came out in long, desperate gasps. She was having a panic attack. Because of him.
Percy slowly stood to his feet, his legs shaking uncomfortably as he struggled to maintain his balance. He took one unsteady step towards his unfocused friend, one became two, then three until he finally made his way to Rachel. The Bane of Gaea slowly but firmly pried a frail arm from her side and entwined it gently with his own, a subtle act of comfort to the panic-stricken girl before him, but a meaningful one all the same.
The minutes blurred as Percy remained with Rachel, he didn't even notice the two of them had drifted to the floor until Rachel's breathing stabilized.
"...Thanks." She murmured finally.
"I'm sorry," Percy riposted, "Not for not wanting to die, but for causing you all so much pain."
Rachel leaned into his shoulder vulnerably, her heart pounding in her chest as she collected herself.
"I-I know it wasn't your fault. I know I don't have the right to tear your head off for not being okay with biting it, but," She stifled a sob, "But, I care you know. I love you, you know that. You're important to me, gods you're practically the second coming to this whole camp. We need you. All of us. I can't summon storms or control fire. I can't swing a sword or aim a bow worth a damn. All I've got are prophecies and a hairbrush." Rachel finished self-deprecatingly. Her shoulders slouched and her bright red hair seemed to leech itself of the color with every barb.
Rachel was mortal.
And it stunned Percy to realize he'd never given much of a thought to it before...not because he didn't care about her or anything like that, but because the woman was so much of a softspoken badass he'd subconsciously likened her to a force of nature of his Mother's caliber. The girl had taken a helicopter to a warzone just to tell him he wasn't destined to die, who the Hades did you know had the chutzpah to pull off that brand of Jackson-patented craziness? She'd stolen his pegasus and taken on a century old curse from a member of the Big Three in a 1-v-1 because she felt like it.
How could she act like she wasn't the baddest ginger to walk this side of the East Coast?
"Hey now, Kronos himself can personally attest to that hairbrush being labeled a WMD." Percy intoned fondly, his frail hand coming up to brush her frizzy, red mane.
Rachel slugged him in the shoulder weakly for his efforts as she dabbed at her eyes, but he could see the corners of lips twitching slightly.
He'd lightened the mood somewhat, thank Sally.
"Can it Fish Breath, I'm trying to be modest here," She continued in faux-arrogance, her nostrils flaring haughtily.
"By your command, Your Gingerness."
"...Thank you," Rachel accepted benevolently, though her acid-green eyes looked to be housing glimmering stars as she beamed in fondness "Now where was I-ooh right, So yeah all I've got are ominous prophecies and a pretty cool hairbrush. I'm just a plain old mortal, I don't think a lot of people around here would lose too much sleep if I and my shitty visions up and bit the curb."
"But, it's different with you. You're Percy freaking Jackson, you make or break Camp Half-Blood whether you like it or not.
"Hey now, don-" Percy started before getting steamrolled by the redhead.
"Don't you hey now me Jackson. It's the truth. And you're literally the only one too dumb to see it. Listen, actually listen to the world around you."
He took heed of her words when it seemed the girl wasn't going to take no for an answer. And found he couldn't hear anything too out of the ordinary.
There was the gentle creaking of floorboards.
The steady billowing from several air conditioners in the building.
And a hopeful humming from multiple people in the infirmary.
Nothing stood out alarmingly to the Son of Poseidon and he as much as said so to his freckle-faced companion.
"Dork," Rachel muttered as she shook her head fondly, "We're in an infirmary after one of the worst battles this camp has ever fended off, and there's not a single cry or plea for help to be heard like before."
That was...a 100% factual. He didn't know if it spoke positively or negatively of his thought process that he'd assumed someone had just placed a spell on his room to prevent sound from getting in or out. But, if it wasn't...
"That's what the mention of your name does to this place. It doesn't matter how hopeless everything seems, it barely even matters if the fates themselves tell them they're going to die within the hour. As long you're there? As long as they hear the name, Percy Jackson, they can keep fighting. They can keep believing."
Rachel took a pause to catch her breath after her resounding monologue. Her smile growing as she saw her words make their impact on the stunned Hero of Olympus.
'Took you long enough' She thought.
Percy got his voice again after a few contemplative beats of silence.
"I don't think I'm worthy of that." He said, "No, I'm definitely not worthy of that sort of..of devotion."
Not even close to worthy.
"But - and yes there is a but - I appreciate it all the same."
And privately...he'd live to be worthy of that sort of fanatical worship. Not for his ego though – get real – but for his people. His Family.
Right now though?
"How bad was it Rach?" He asked, already dreading the answer. His hopes plummeting even further at the Oracle's despondent grimace.
"...Bad Perce. It was-it was so bad, it'd have been worse if you hadn't done whatever you did with Gaea." Rachel sounded, "Speaking of, what did you do to her."
A violation.
A blight upon the laws of Creation itself.
"Nothing much, really." He replied nonchalantly.
"Really?" She questioned skeptically, "It was enough to turn the soil surrounding camp golden, not to mention tha-that crater. I think the earthquakes stopped entirely about an hour before you woke up. Chiron was talking about half of Alaska getting swallowed into the sea about a week ago. What happened down there Percy."
That was so not what he needed to hear right now. He hadn't expected Gaea's death to bring that kind of devastation, more guilt took a hold on him.
"How many Rachel." The Bane of Gaea deflected, much to Rachel's displeasure. The young woman opened her mouth to reprimand him, but was cut off by a new voice appearing from behind them.
The little bastard had been hiding in the shadows the whole time.
"32 Demigods dead, 94 severely wounded." The grim voice of Nico di Angelo stated, "And that's from Camp Half-Blood alone. The Roman's losses were in the hundreds, last we saw them."
Percy stilled completely, the outside world muted to him as his mind was thrown into a frenzy of frantic thoughts. Faces, voices, names, innocent kids lost to the Elysian Fields for a war they'd never even been given much of a choice to fight.
"What? He asked for it didn't he?" He defended nervously as he was laid victim to Rachel's venomous glare.
"How..." He croaked, desperately trying to make sense of it all, "The legion's a freaking war machine. They were more than skilled, Styx, they fucking stormed Othrys! How the Hades did they go down so badly."
It must have troubled the young man before him too, as he gave no visible reaction to his own father being used as a cuss word other than an awkward grimace.
"Octavian, il fottuto imbecille," Nico said darkly, "He placed the legion in a literal sea of monsters at the start of the fighting. Reyna tried her best to keep the casualties to a minimum but..."
The son of Hades slumped to the ground his head fixed on the ceiling, as his exhaustion got the best of him.
"She could only do so much...they didn't take their losses too well." Nico finished quietly.
The muttered understatement from Rachel was casually ignored.
"What about the mortals?"
"What about the mortals?" Nico answered with a raised brow, genuinely baffled at the question.
"Rachel said half of Alaska was swallowed di Angelo, are we doing anything to help? The Gods? Are they doing anything?" Percy demanded.
...
"Well?!"
Nico and Rachel at least had the decency to look sheepish, and while Percy didn't take any delight in guilt-tripping his friends, he still felt he had to push on with the question. Normal mortals were like sticks to a redwood compared to Demigods alone, never mind a Primordial like Gaea it was a comparison that would get you laughed out of the campfire.
Acts of terrorism were a hell of a lot more different than entire landmasses getting swallowed, they needed help and they needed it yesterday. To Hades with that hands-off nonsense.
"...sand." Nico mumbled.
"What?"
"Roughly 11 thousand dead in Alaska, a hundred thousand more displaced. The gods have been radio silent." Nico announced loudly, "All gods. The last one anyone saw was your Father, and that was just to drop you off. And well, there's Lupa but-"
Nico shook his head violently in a firm 'no' at the thought.
"Half our number were either wounded or dead from the last battle. We couldn't afford to send out relief teams, and-" Nico tried to rationalize but Percy had stopped listening, a thousand-yard stare dominated his features as guilt squeezed at his heart.
'Had killing Gaea like that really caused all this?' Percy thought mournfully, 'Should I have tried something else? Could I?!'
"It was the only way." He recalled Annabeth saying.
Annabeth.
Holy Hera, he'd forgotten about Annabeth. What kind of boyfriend was he?
Had they found her body in time? Had anyone even found her at all?
"...rcy PERCY! Get a grip dude! Look I'm sorry we di-"
"ANNABETH!" Percy roared, his guilt forgotten as he clung to Nico's arms, "Where is she! Is she okay!"
Nico's face darkened at the name, but softened at Percy's panicked rambling.
"Calm down dude, she's okay bu-but she's not here with us." He finished lamely.
"What the heck does that even mean." The son of Poseidon urged, "Don't screw with me di Angelo. I'm not a little kid anymore, I can take it. Tell me what happened. Where the hell is my girlfriend."
"I very much doubt that, but she's not here."
"Nico..."
"I'm doing this to help you, you idiot!."
"AND I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Percy roared, "JU-just tell me where she is Nico. Please."
Nico looked like telling him anything relating to Annabeth was the last thing he wanted to do. His onyx eyes were shifty and skittish, like his battle instincts were banging drum solos on his eardrums while screaming RUN.
Rachel was the one who chose to step up when it looked like Nico was about to knee him in the nuts and book it, consequences be damned. Her expression was turbulent as her manicured nails bit into her palms agitatedly, yet she directed him to his loaded cot side dresser all the same.
The Redheaded Oracle handed Percy an inconspicuous grey envelope she retrieved from the very first drawer, with the initials A.C written in messy cursive on the seal flap. Percy didn't waste a second in tearing the envelope apart, proper etiquette taking a backseat as he rushed to read its contents.
The first three words were enough to make him wish he'd taken his time opening the letter - at least then his emotional whiplash would have been more subdued - and the pitying looks he received from both Rachel and Nico did nothing useful for his mood.
Written in bold navy blue ink (his favorite shade of the color mind you) was a depressing: Dear Seaweed Brain.
.
.
.
The tone of the message still didn't get any lighter by the 3rd paragraph, no it got worse.
It got so much worse.
Y*C*O*Y*W
There we have it folks, another week another chapter. A number of you aren't going to like Percy's thoughts regarding Gaea, heck some of you might not even like him managing to overpower her in the first place, but I ask that you remain patient. I said it before that while the story is told mainly through Percy's POV, a lot of schemes and power plays are being handled concurrently behind the scenes. A fact I hope to make clear of mid-way through Arc 1 and the entirety of Arc 2 and 3, but that's in the distant future.
I'm also gonna keep it a buck here, there's not gonna be a chapter next week. Black Myth Wukong comes out on Tuesday. While the overall lack of PS5 reviews till now doesn't exactly inspire the most confidence inside of me this is the Monkey King we're talking about here, I will be there no matter what.
Chapter 5 is already finished, just a few cautionary edits and I'll be ready to upload it either later today or later tomorrow depending on my shift tonight, but I'd like the week off to really give Chapter 8 a conclusive end and focus on myself.
Translations for foreign words used in Ch 4:
-Περσεύς επιμένως: Perseus the Enduring
-Il fottuto imbecille: The fucking imbecile
Reviews:
-Luq707: Thanks for that, reading through the previous chapters I've noticed I have a tendency to overuse italics and capitals. I plan on going through a whole mass edit for the chapters after I drop Chapter 15, which is likely to be the end of Arc 1 and the story's first hiatus if my roadmap is any indication. If possible I ask that you continue to share your advice where you think it necessary. As for the Primordial dialogue text, that has it's own separate relevance to the story as a whole and it's not likely to change any soon. This story is going to put a lot of emphasis on a characters Voice and the power put behind it, it'll get clearer why as the plot progresses.