Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Rick Riordan, Greco-Roman mythology, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: If you saw my post on Tumblr you already know what I'm going to say, and trust me I understand Rick's reasons why, but it still boggles my mind that he always has the GREEK demigods use Latin terms. Like, c'mon wth lmao

Also, I realized I forgot to write some dialogue somehow that was pretty important in chapter 101, so I edited it in. It's pretty minor and mentioned in this chapter, thus not necessary to go back and reread. Sorry for forgetting to write it! I'm not sure how I managed to do that...

Anyways, long day (long week, tbh) and I am very tired. So, as always, I hope you enjoy. Until next chapter,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

Ψυχή – Soul

~The Finding Home Saga~

~Finding Home~

~Chapter 103: Jig Of Life Pt. 3~

It'd been a while since my second and last dream involving the essence of Kronos and my great-great-grandmother, so I'd been kind of hoping that that would've been the end of it, even though I knew it wouldn't be.And sure enough, when I opened my eyes in my dream, the Icelandic farm was where I was.

At least one season had passed, because the grass wasn't nearly as a vibrant green, and the color of the leaves on the trees, the few that there were, had changed; I had a feeling it'd been more than just one, however. That an entire year had passed.

In the early morning light, Kronos was cutting up some firewood. He looked a lot better than he had been in the previous two dreams involving Drífa Seimsdóttir – or, well, ever, really. Without even needing to see his remains, the fact that he had been cut up into pieces said enough.

Suddenly, just as he was about to bring down his axe onto half of a block of wood, thus making two quarters, Kronos froze. His head lifted as he looked with his gold eyes towards the turf house; his breathing stilled.

Without warning, he dropped the axe and took off. And I, of course, had to follow after him.

I wasn't sure what to expect as he threw open the door to the turf house, so fast that the hinges gave a squelch, like there was a threat of the door being torn off entirely. But I definitely came to a better understanding than him when he ran into the bedroom and found Drífa sitting up in bed, and heaving into a chamber pot – which, side note, but I am so grateful for modern plumbing. The idea of puking into one of those things is just yuck.

"Beloved," Kronos said, going to her side at once. He sat down on the bed next to her, brushing her hair away from her face. His face became pinched with worry.

"I'm fine," she gasped out once the worst of it had passed. "I am alright, don't worry."

"This is the seventh morning in a row you have woken up ill," he said. "I am beginning to think I should have made you see that doctor in town when we were there a few days ago."

"There is nothing he could have done," Drífa replied. She hesitated. "Well, perhaps he could have given me something to treat my symptoms, but there is nothing he could have done for the cause."

Kronos' eyebrows furrowed. "'The cause?'"

"Yes." Drífa grabbed his left hand. Gently, she pulled it to her stomach, letting it rest there. She gazed up at him with her ocean blue eyes. "I am with your child, Kronos."

Considering his track record, I didn't have high expectations of Kronos' reaction. He stared at her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "That is the cause for your sickness?"

"Yes, most mortal women get ill when they first get pregnant. Sometimes, it can last for the entire pregnancy," she explained. "Did your wife not – ?"

"No," Kronos said. His expression darkened. "Unless they are poisoned, gods do not get sick...as far as I am aware."

"Oh." Drífa blinked, glancing down. "Tell me what you are thinking?"

Kronos cupped her cheek in his hand, causing her to look back at him. "You are worried that I am going to be upset," he murmured. "That I will do to our child what I did to my previous ones."

She said nothing.

He hummed. "You are not wrong to be thinking that. I understand; I did it once before, what is to stop me from doing it again? But, as I have told you previously...it is strange." He brought his hands away from her and held them above his lap, palms up; he stared at them. "The prophecy my father gave me was only for my children born by Rhea, yet I know I should be having a similar reaction as I did each time she told me she was with child. And perhaps the parts of me that are down in Tartarus are...but I am not."

"People change," Drífa whispered.

Kronos laughed bitterly. "Us gods do not. Not at the rate that you do, at least. Once we reach our eighteen years and become fully immortal...change is often only possible after thousands and thousands of years. Unless..."

Drífa seized his hands. Her right thumb made gentle circles into his skin. "'Unless,' what?"

"The last time I changed to this degree, outside of the births of my previous children, was when Rhea agreed to marry me. Maybe this means..." Kronos mused. He shook his head. "I'm not sure about that, but I do know one thing: the plans I have made will have to be enacted far quicker than before."

My great-great-grandmother's expression became fraught. "But you said – "

"I know what I said," he spoke calmly. "But if my children find out that you are with my child, or that a mortal child of mine exists after she is born – "

"'She?'"

"Yes." He kissed her hands. "I can sense it. We will have a daughter. As I was saying, though...if they find out about the two of you, I know what they will do. They will not want you alive. So, I will have to begin to gather my forces again. I must keep you two safe. Because, if something were to happen to you, I know not what I would do. I love you, with all of my being."

"I love you, too," Drífa said.

The last thing that I saw was him pulling her into a kiss, before the image in front of me became distorted. It blurred, like I had been staring for too long without blinking, and then –

I heard laughter. Cold, harsh laughter, like knives being distorted. It was in a voice identical to the one of essence of Kronos I had just heard, yet also so utterly different at the same time.

I was standing at the edge of a pit leading to the depths of Tartarus. Below me the darkness seethed like inky soup.

"So close to the destruction of that which you hold dear, little hero," the voice of the entire being of Kronos said. "And still, you are blind."

The voice was different than when I had heard him talking before, the dreams of his essence notwithstanding, I realized. It seemed almost physical now, as if it was getting ready to (though not quite) speak from a real body instead of...whatever he'd been in his chopped-up condition.

And there was something else to it, something –

"I have much to thank you for," Kronos said. "You have assured my rise through forcing Luke's compliance."

The shadows in the cavern became deeper and heavier. I tried to back away from the edge of the pit, except it was like swimming through oil. Time slowed down. My breathing almost stopped.

"A favor," Kronos said. "The Titan Lord always repays his debts, especially to his mortal descendant. Perhaps a glimpse of Luke. He did not want you to see. He did not want you to know. But, perhaps it is only right if I give you some idea, before..."

The darkness rippled around me, and then I wasn't standing at the pit anymore. I was standing near the top of Mount Tamalpais. The Pacific Ocean was spread out below, grey under a cloudy sky. Luke was standing at the edge of a small cliff, facing the ocean; his back was facing me. He was wearing a white chiton again, a golden girdle tied around his waist.

But what concerned me the most, combined with Kronos' words, were that his shoulders were shaking.

I'd forgotten to ask him in Antaeus' quarters about what he had meant in that dream I'd had, when he'd said, "I'm sorry, Percy. I hope you'll one day forgive me." The quest, plus the relief I'd felt simply at seeing him after so long, had made the memory obscured in my mind.

But I remembered it now, and what a cruel thing it was that I did, because all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and ask him what was wrong, and I couldn't.

And I remembered how rundown he'd seemed before this entire quest but had told me that he was only "tired," and how he had also told me in Antaeus' quarters that there was something that he'd wanted to talk about with me (and oh, how it was too late for me to now connect the dots to it being about his above statement), but he'd said that we would have time to discuss it, and the dread he'd shown when our kids had called him out on our bluff (which I'd thought had only been over me about to face Antaeus), and the way he'd forced out his laugh when I'd called Mrs. O'Leary. Sure, I wouldn't have been able to confront him on those last two, there'd been no time, but still.

What kind of boyfriend was I?

From a trail that came down from the mountain's peak, where the black marble palace loomed, surrounded by the thick veil of the Mist, Mia came walking. She was wearing regular clothes, just with the Greek armor over them, as was typical.

"It's almost time," she said softly.

Without turning around, Luke said back, "I know."

Mia stopped in her tracks when she was about six or so feet away from him. She looked around, as if to make sure there were no other listeners. "Why didn't you say anything to Percy, back when we were in the arena?" she asked. "He deserves to know the truth. If anybody should know about what's going to happen to you, it's – "

"That's precisely why I couldn't tell him," he cut her off. Then he did turn around – and gods, his face was a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and there were tear tracks running down his cheeks. "Plus, in my defense, before the Koskinen twins – "

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, we're still calling them that?"

"Before they fucked everything up," he continued, his lips twitching, "I thought he and the others were going to come with us, to a certain degree. I thought...I would've had more time to explain."

"You were afraid that he wasn't going to forgive you," Mia stated. "You still are."

He smiled. "And if I am?"

Mia stared at him.

Luke sighed. "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me that you'll take care of my family," Luke said. "Percy. Our children. No matter what happens, you can't let anything happen to them. I've gotten a similar promise from someone else, but..."

"You'd like to be sure they'll be safe," Mia finished for him. She gave him a small, sad smile. "I get it. And of course."

She held out her hand, and I knew it wasn't something that she wanted to do, yet she was doing it anyways, because hehad to. Luke accepted the gesture, then used it to pull her into a hug. He whispered something to her; I wasn't able to make out what it was.

They walked up the trail towards the palace together.

I woke to Annabeth shaking my shoulder. "Percy – Percy, wake up! There's an earthquake!"

My body jolted upright for me, as hard as it was to manage with the extra weight on my stomach. "What?"

Sure enough, the room was rumbling. Travis, Katie, and Rachel were already awake; they were staring at me with wide eyes. Katie helped Annabeth help me off of my sleeping bag, Travis grabbed it, rolled it up, and shoved it into my bag, and then the five of us were running.

We were almost to the far tunnel when a column next to us groaned and buckled. We kept going as a hundred tons of marble crashed down behind us.

We made it to the corridor and turned just in time to see the other columns toppling. A cloud of white dust billowed over us, and we kept running.

"You know what?" Annabeth shouted. "I like this way after all!"

It wasn't long before we saw light up ahead – like regular electric lighting.

"There," Rachel said.

We followed her into a stainless steel hallway, like I imagined they'd have on a space station or something. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceiling. The floor was a metal grate.

I was so used to being in the darkness that I had to squint. Travis, Katie, Annabeth, and Rachel all looked pale in the harsh illumination.

"This way," Rachel said, beginning to run. "We're close!"

"This is so wrong!" Annabeth exclaimed. "The workshop should be in the oldest section of the maze. This can't – "

She faltered, because we'd arrived at a set of double metal doors. Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek Δ.

"We're here," Rachel announced. "Daedalus' workshop."

And pretty much as soon as she had, I was gasping, almost falling to my knees from pain.

Katie and Travis were on either side of me at once, using their weight to support me. "Percy, are you – ?" my best friend started to ask, her voice frantic.

"I'm – I'm fine. I'm fine," I panted out.

Whatever had just hit me from the inside, tightening my stomach, it'd felt a lot worse than what I'd thought a Braxton Hicks contraction was supposed to feel like; it'd been worse than what I'd felt back there in the gymnasium, before my kids had left. Worse than the cramps that had stopped me in my place at Mount St. Helens, and way worse than the ones that had forced us to make more breaks than Annabeth would've liked while traversing the Labyrinth.

Dread welled up within me.

But my friends, the quest...

"Let's just get inside," I continued.

Annabeth pressed the symbol on the doors, and they hissed open.

"So much for ancient architecture," Travis said, trying to come off as jokingly; his voice was too tight for that, though.

Annabeth scowled. Together, the five of us walked inside.

The first thing that struck me was the daylight – blazing sun coming through giant windows. Not the kind of thing that you'd expect in the heart of a dungeon. The workshop was like an artist's studio, with thirty-foot ceilings and industrial lighting, polished stone floors, and workbenches along with windows. A spiral staircase led up to a second-story loft. Half a dozen easels displayed diagrams for buildings and machines that looked like Leonarda da Vinci sketches. Several laptops were scattered around on the tables. Glass jars of green oil – Greek fire – lined one shelf. There were inventions, too – weird metal machines I couldn't make sense of. One was a bronze chair with a bunch of electrical wires attached to it, like some kind of torture device. In another corner stood a giant metal egg about the size of a man. There was a grandfather clock which appeared to be made entirely of glass, so you could see all the gears turning. And hanging on the wall, last but not least, were several sets of bronze and silver wings.

"Μὰ θεούς," Annabeth muttered under her breath. She ran to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. "He's a genius. Look at the curves on this building!"

"And an artist," Rachel said in amazement. "These wings are amazing!"

The wings looked more advanced than the ones I'd seen in my dreams, I would give her that. The feathers were more tightly interwoven. Instead of wax seals, self-adhesive strips ran down the sides.

But I wasn't able to think about them for very long.

I hissed when Katie and Travis sat me down on a chair that seemed innocuous enough, although of course I couldn't say for sure, given who had probably made it. I heard Katie say, "Guys, give us a moment," to Annabeth and Rachel before I closed my eyes.

The pain had been easing up, somewhat, as it should've if it was only a Braxton Hicks contraction, but now it was starting to get back to its previous level, and all I could think about it was:

No.

No, no, no...

I was only twenty-eight or so weeks along now, according to my best estimates. I couldn't be –

"Oh, no," Rachel said. "Is he – ?"

Then she stopped short, sucking in a breath of her own.

Annabeth shouted, "Guys, watch out! Behind – !"

Not a second later, something was plunged into my side, not too far away from where Luke had stabbed me a few summers ago. I let out a scream.

"That should do it," a familiar voice said.

I watched Travis whirl around out of the corner of my eye, drawing his sword. "Quintus," he snarled. "What did you just do to him?"

"I gave him something that was developed here – well, not precisely here, but in the center of the Labyrinth, a long time ago, along with most of Daedalus' other inventions," I heard Quintus say. He came around my left side, which was where Katie was hovering over me. I saw him set down a needle and syringe on one of the workbenches with his left hand; he had a sword of his own in his right. "Male pregnancies, at least with anatomy like Percy's, are fairly different than female ones, you see. The drugs at mortal hospitals wouldn't work on him. But this one...this one will prevent him from going into premature labor or having other similar ailments."

My eyes widened.

He'd just confirmed my suspicions, right there.

Or maybe "suspicions" isn't the right word. But "deepest fears" definitely is.

"I'm not surprised it happened with how physically active he's been because of this quest, but fortunate it were to happen here, if not at your camp." He shrugged. "I left several bottles of the medicine with instructions of how to use it for Lee Fletcher, although I'm not sure if he found them. I didn't have time to ensure it before I left."

"You know Percy's pregnant?" Katie growled.

"I didn't know before you left for the quest, I only found out afterwards when I heard Lee Fletcher talking to himself in the infirmary," Quintus acknowledged. He glanced over at me. "Are you feeling better now?"

"...Yeah," I said after a moment, rubbing at my stomach. I was actually starting to feel better than I had for this entire quest. And my stomach was feeling much softer than it had been for...well, a long time now, albeit not completely squishy because of my babies.

Just give me my "Mother of the Year" award at the same time as the one for "Boyfriend of the Year."

"It's nice what you just did for Percy," Annabeth said sharply. "But what have you done with Daedalus?"

"You think I'm an agent of Kronos," Quintus said. "That I work for Luke."

"Well, duh," Annabeth said.

He smiled. "You're an intelligent girl, Annabeth. But you're wrong. I work only for myself."

"Luke mentioned you," I said. "Geryon knew about you, too. You've been to his ranch."

"Of course," he said. "I've been almost everywhere. Even here."

He walked past Travis like he was no threat at all and stood by the window. The view outside of it was amazing. I recognized the Rocky Mountains in the distance. We were up high in the foothills, at least five hundred feet, and down below there was a valley, filled with a tumbled collection of red mesas and boulders and spires of stone. It looked like some huge kid had been building a toy city with skyscraper-size blocks, and then decided to knock it over.

"The view changes from day-to-day," Quintus told us. "It's always some place high up. Yesterday, it was from a skyscraper overlooking Manhattan. The day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps coming back to the Garden of the Gods, Colorado. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A fitting name, I suppose."

"You mean that's not an illusion?" Travis asked. "A projection or something?"

"No," Rachel murmured. "It's real. We're really in Colorado."

Quintus regarded her. "You have clear vision, don't you? You remind me of another mortal girl I once knew. Another princess who came to grief."

"Enough with the games," Annabeth insisted. "What have you done with Daedalus?"

Quintus stared at her. "You are a daughter of Athena, through and through, but I think oftentimes we forget that that does not mean we are the smartest people in the room. And moreover, my dear, you need lessons from your friend on seeing clearly...because I am Daedalus."

"But you're not an inventor," Travis said immediately. "You're a swordsman."

Katie looked like she wanted to face-palm herself again.

"I am both," Quintus said. "And an architect. And a scholar. I also play basketball pretty well for a guy who didn't start until he was well over three thousand years old. A real artist must be good at many things."

"That's true," Rachel said. "Like I can paint with my feet as well as my hands."

"You see?" Quintus said. "A girl of many talents."

"But you don't even look like Daedalus," I protested. "I saw him in a dream, and..." Suddenly, a horrible thought dawned on me.

"Yes," Quintus said. "You've finally guessed the truth."

"You're an automaton. You made yourself a new body."

"Percy," Annabeth said uneasily, "that's not possible. He – he can't be an automaton."

Quintus chuckled. "Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?"

"The fifth, in Latin. But – "

"This is my fifth body." The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed his elbow and part of his wrist popped open – a rectangular hatch in his skin. Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.

"That's amazing!" Rachel said.

At the same time, Travis went, "That's weird."

"You found a way to transfer your ψυχή into a machine?" Annabeth asked. "That's not...natural."

"Oh, I assure you, my dear, it's still me. I'm still very much Daedalus. Our mother makes sure I never forget that." He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was a mark, in the same place I'd seen him grasp his neck at in my dream – the dark shape of a bird, grafted into his skin.

"A murderer's brand," Annabeth said.

"For your nephew, Perdix," I guessed. "The boy you pushed off the tower."

Quintus' face darkened. "I did not push him. I simply – "

"Made him lose his balance," I said. "Let him die. A boy that you were supposed to protect, and teach. Your nephew."

Quintus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. "I regret what I did, Percy. You are right. I was angry and bitter, but that's no excuse. And I cannot take it back. Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird – a partridge. She branded the bird's shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand appears on my skin."

I looked into his eyes, and I realized he was the same man I'd seen in my dreams. His face was totally different, there was no denying that, but the same soul was there – the same intelligence and all of the sadness.

"You really are Daedalus," I decided. "But why did you come to Camp Half-Blood? Why spy on us?"

"To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke had given me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions."

"So, you have talked to Luke."

"Oh, yes. Several times. He is quite persuasive, as I'm sure you already know." He said the last part to me, with a gleam in his eyes.

Before I could protest, however, Annabeth was pushing on: "But you've seen the camp! So you know we need your help. You can't let Luke through the maze!"

Daedalus set his sword on the same workbench as the syringe. "The maze is no longer mine to control, Annabeth. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy."

"Privacy from what?"

"The gods," he said. "Your friend, I'm sure, knows the temptation for that one. And death, too. I have been alive for millennia, my dear, hiding from death."

"But how can you hide from Hades?" Katie asked. "Hades has the Furies." I knew she was thinking back on our first quest there.

"They do not know everything," he said. "Or see everything, as much as they want to make it seem like they do. You and Percy have encountered them in the past, Katie. You know this is true. A clever man can hide a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Not even my greatest enemy has been able to find me."

"You mean Minos," I said.

He nodded. "Yes, now that he has become a judge in the Underworld."

Just then, a loud bark echoed from the corridor. I heard the ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP of huge paws, and Mrs. O'Leary bounded into the workshop. She came over to me and licked my face once, then almost knocked Daedalus over with an enthusiastic leap.

"There is my old friend!" Daedalus cried, scratching Mrs. O'Leary behind the ears. "My only companion all these long and lonely years."

"You let her save me," I said. "That whistle actually worked."

"Of course it did, Percy," Daedalus said. "You have a good heart, even when this world has given you every reason not to have one. And I knew Mrs. O'Leary liked you, when she has often not been fond of others. I wanted to help you. Perhaps I...well, I felt guilty, as well."

"Guilty about what?"

"That your quest would be in vain."

"What?" Annabeth said. "But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne's string so Luke can't get it."

"Yes...the string. I told Luke that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are the best guide, but he did not trust me. He was so focused on the idea of a magic item. And the string works. It's not as accurate as your mortal friend here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough."

"Where is it?" Annabeth demanded.

"With Luke," Daedalus said sadly. "I'm sorry, my dear. But you are much too late."

Word Count: 4,445

Next Chapter Title: We Make A Jump For It