Percy was moderately surprised to find out he wasn't dead.
Something heavy was weighing him down, and he was… drinking something?
A thick, calloused hand had gripped him by the chin, the owner of the hand whispering something softly to him as he was forced to drink what tasted like chicken noodle soup. He couldn't make out the words, but they sounded friendly and familiar and safe.
He didn't try to resist, and when the hand slipped away from him and the bowl was empty, he immediately felt a sense of longing for the contact. He could barely make out anything with his eyes, but he could feel the power radiating from the figure in front of him - as well as the fact that he towered over the demigod, and had a grizzled beard.
Percy's heart caught in his throat. "Dad?" He whispered.
Whoever was in front of him, they certainly weren't expecting that. The figure froze before making a strange wheezing sound, almost like a busted harmonica.
He got the feeling that it wasn't Poseidon.
Everything came crashing back down in that moment, his rattled brain forced to remember everything that had happened since his miserable excuse of a life had come crashing down upon him - that was to say, since he had fallen into Tartarus.
His eyes shot open, darting around the room frantically as his head throbbed. "Zoe," he whispered, "Is she okay? Is she safe?"
A hand on his chest immediately put an end to his panic, gently attempting to push him back down onto whatever soft cushioning he had been placed upon.
"I am here," a soft voice that he knew to be Zoe whispered, "We are safe. Rest, regain thy strength."
Rest. That felt like a good idea.
He was tired. But they weren't really safe, were they? They'd never be safe as long as they were in Tartarus.
Despite his best efforts, the allure of sleep was too strong. He was out before his head hit the pillow.
–
Percy had no dreams. It was so jarring to just wake up that for a brief moment he thought he was still asleep.
The second thing that had his brain on high alert (beyond what it was usually screaming about while he was in the pit) was the fact that he was in what seemed to be a bed. A thick blanket was draped over him with care, and for some reason he couldn't move his -
He looked to his right and saw Zoe sleeping next to him.
Ah.
So that's why he couldn't move his arm. She may as well have taken it for herself with how tightly she gripped it, like how a dragon guarded its loot.
His face felt hot as blood began to rush to his head as he realized just how close she was to him, but quickly shook away his embarrassment. There was no time for that down here.
Still, it felt strangely nice.
A bonfire raged in the middle of the floor, burning up the bones that made up its fuel. A white, odorless smoke spewed from it, slowly floating up through a conveniently placed hole in the ceiling. The floor was covered with long, reedy, dried-out grass and fluffy, gray wool rugs. It seemed that the bed they were in sat at one end of the room, while the other side held racks full of drying plants and meat. It smelt like the Demeter cabin on steroids.
Oh yeah, and there was also a flock of sheep hanging out in the cabin too. It wasn't even close to the weirdest thing he'd seen down here, so he just noted it and moved on.
Zoe began to stir next to him, so he tried to move around less. Small Bob was on the bed with them, too, purring happily as he kneaded the blankets bunched up by their feet. He laid over Zoe's legs.
Percy craned his neck over Zoe's head when he heard talking. Bob was speaking in hushed tones to a positively massive man with red skin and scaled legs. Flowers and blades of grass were sprinkled in amongst the rust-colored hairs that covered his face.
The Giant seemed agitated, or maybe simply uneasy. Bob's expression remained neutral, even as the Giant threw something to the ground and began to grumble about fate.
"Screw fate," he found himself saying, catching the immortals by surprise, "Take your fate into your own hands."
The Giant scowled at him. "What do you know about Fate, boy?"
"A lot more than I should," Percy murmured.
The Giant stared at him for a moment, as if he was a particularly interested puzzle that the Giant wanted to solve. After what seemed like an eternity he huffed, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I am Damasen," he finally said, "Tell me your story. I shall consider it payment for my services. It gets quite lonely in Tartarus, so why don't you entertain me for a bit?"
Percy blinked. Out of everything he was expecting the Giant - Damasen, he mentally corrected - to say, that wasn't one of them.
"Uh, in a second," he replied hurriedly, not enjoying the way the Giant's ever-present scowl deepened. He dipped his head to the Titan and Giant, doing his best attempt at a seated bow.
"Thank you for saving us," he muttered, trying his best to show his sincerity, "I… I'm sorry, Bob. For everything."
Bob said nothing. He just continued to observe Percy and Zoe, who had unconsciously scooched closer to the demigod. Small Bob hummed as he kneaded the blankets, completely infatuated with the experience.
Damasen continued to stare at Percy.
He sighed. He didn't know how much he could trust this Giant, but Bob trusted him and that was enough. Besides, he did save his life.
"Okay," he breathed out, the tension in his body dissipating. "My story. It all started with a field trip I took in sixth grade…"
–
"And now we're here."
Damasen hummed as Percy gestured lamely to the cozy little hut the Giant called home. "You are a remarkable storyteller, boy. Have you ever considered writing a book?"
Percy shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise at simply talking. "Not really. I've been more occupied trying not to get killed for most of my life."
Damasen chuckled. "I know the feeling."
He grunted as he leant back in his chair. "As you may have gathered, I am Damasen, son of Gaea and Tartarus. Every giant was made to oppose a god, and my counterpart is Ares."
Percy made a face. "I already like you more than him. You don't seem like the violent kind."
Damasen smirked slightly before his mouth settled back into its thin frown. "Good to hear. But you are correct. However, all that did was make me a disappointment to my parents. I chose not to partake in the Gigantomachy, preferring a life of peacefulness and solitude in Maeonia."
Percy nodded along, idly stroking Zoe's hair out of boredom. "That sounds nice. So you don't mind us fighting your mom?"
"It was," Damasen agreed, ignoring the second half of Percy's statement for now, "But my mother and father cursed me for it. One day, the Maeonian drakon killed a human shepherd, a friend of mine, so I hunted the creature down and slew it, thrusting a tree straight through its mouth. I used the power of the earth to regrow the tree's roots, planting the drakon firmly in the ground. I made sure it would terrorize mortals no more. That was a deed Gaea could not forgive."
"Because you helped someone?" Percy asked dumbly.
"Yes." Damasen looked ashamed. "Gaea opened the earth, and I was consumed, exiled here in the belly of my father Tartarus, where all the useless flotsam collects - all the bits of creation he does not care for." The Giant plucked a flower out of his hair and regarded it absently. "They let me live, tending my sheep, collecting my herbs, so I might know the uselessness of the life I chose. Every day - or what passes for day in this lightless place - the Maeonian drakon re-forms and attacks me. Killing it is my endless task."
Percy eyed the miserable Giant sadly. He wondered how many times he had fought the drakon, and how many times he had pondered the waste of his life as he simply waited for the next inevitable day.
Damasen reminded Percy of himself.
"Break the curse," he blurted out, "Come with us."
Damasen chuckled sourly. "As simple as that. Don't you think I have tried to leave this place? It is impossible. No matter which direction I travel, I end up here again. The swamp is the only thing I know - the only destination I can imagine. No, little demigod. My curse has overtaken me. I have no hope left."
"No hope," Bob echoed.
"Besides," Damasen continued, "You have no hope of success. Even if you did have a chance to defeat my mother, it is my father who you should be worrying about at present. With him opposing you, you have no chance to survive."
Percy didn't like the way he said his father.
"Why would… he… oppose us?" Percy asked. "I'm like, less than a blip on the radar of this place, aren't I?"
Damasen snorted. "Not by a long shot. I could sense your power the moment you entered my father's domain. Mortals do not make it out of here. My father makes sure of that. All of this," Damasen waved a hand at the cabin - no, the world around them - with a melancholy look on his face. "All that you see is the body of Tartarus, or at least one manifestation of it. He knows you are here. He tries to thwart your progress at every step. My brethren hunt you. It is remarkable that you have lived this long, even with the help of Iapetus."
Bob scowled at that name.
"My father is not fond of the Olympians - he would not mind a world where Gaea and his children ruled," Damasen continued, "But he does not usually involve himself in matters this trivial. He is not opposing all of you, he is opposing you specifically, Percy Jackson. He will not let you escape him alive."
Percy swallowed. "He'll probably need to wait in line," he tried to joke, "He isn't the first immortal that's wanted me dead."
Damasen shook his head. "I pity you, foolish boy. It is unfortunate that someone so young has earned the ire of so many powerful beings."
He looked up. "So you'll help us?"
"No," Damasen said with finality, shaking his head. "I have helped you enough. Healed you, hidden your presence in my swamp from all of my brethren, and yet you still want more."
"Please," he insisted, "Come with us. Not for me. For yourself. Screw fate! Break your curse! Bob said he has a plan to get us out of here, maybe it would work for you!"
"Fate is not what binds me here, child," Damasen grunted, "The Fates are nothing to me. Anake will not be trifled with so easily."
"It doesn't matter!" He insisted, "Fate is meant to be defied! Bob said that once we get the Death Mist -"
"Death Mist?" Damasen scowled at Bob. "You would take them to Akhyls?"
"It is the only way," Bob confirmed.
"You will die sooner than previously thought," Damasen said, "Painfully. In darkness. Akhlys helps no one and trusts no one."
Percy snorted. "You got any better ideas?"
Damasen's face was grim. "No. The Death Mist… that is the best plan. Unfortunately, it is also a terrible plan."
He shrugged. "I've dealt with worse. Besides, it isn't like we have any other options."
Damasen's eyes darkened. "No, boy, you do not."
"If you come with us," Percy tried, "It would be easier. You could leave this place."
He hesitated on his next words. "You could see the sun again."
The Giant's eyes flickered. In that moment, Damasen looked tired. He looked like Chiron did everytime the centaur had to burn a new shroud.
"Rest," he said, standing up to his full height and turning to the racks of drying drakon meat and grass, "I will prepare supplies for your journey. I am sorry, but I cannot do more."
Percy went to protest, but Damasen was done listening. Bob joined him after a moment, talking in hushed tones to his immortal compatriot, and Percy was left alone again.
Zoe's grip tightened around his arm. "I am sorry," she whispered.
He tensed. "How long have you been awake?"
"Since thou began retelling thy tale," she admitted, "The Giant is correct. Thou art an excellent storyteller."
Too many thoughts were floating around his head in that moment. "Sorry I touched your hair," he mumbled without thinking.
"It is alright, Percy." She replied gently, sitting up (but not detaching herself from his arm). "Thou has my thanks for protecting me once again. I wish I could repay thee."
Percy shook his head silently. "You don't need to thank me. I would do anything for– for my friends."
He almost said you, but caught himself at the last moment. It may have been true, but he doubted she would appreciate him practically flirting with her, even if it was true.
She'd died for him. He'd do the same, and more, for her.
Riptide buzzed in his pocket.
"Zoe," he began, suddenly feeling drained, "What's going on?"
Zoe cocked her head to the side. "What art thou referring to?"
"Rip– Anaklusmos," he said clumsily, "What's going on with it? How did it guide me to you? Why is it moving on its own? How can it fight this place?"
She stilled. "Percy, I think it best if thou does not learn the truth behind–"
"Zoe," he insisted, "Please."
Just like that, the protests died on her lips. She was quiet for a moment, brow furrowed as she attempted to choose her next words. Her grip around his arm slipped, and she allowed one dainty hand to slip into Percy's. She rubbed her thumb around the back of his palm in tiny circles.
"This place," she murmured, "Tartarus, heals monsters and Titans alike. Mortals like thee are not as lucky. I suppose that in the pit god's eyes, I am a Titan. With every moment that I am here, with every breath I take within this wretched place, I can feel my former strength return to me."
Percy blinked. "Like, you're turning back into a full on Titan?"
"Not quite," Zoe hummed, "Tell me, what do you know about symbols of power?"
"Um, not a lot," he admitted, "They're just weapons, aren't they? Dad's Trident, Zeus's Master Bolt, they just, what, focus their powers?"
Zoe shook her head. "They are far more powerful than that, Percy. It is a bit different for the gods, who exist with the support of their thrones and the worship of their children, which is likely the only reason Zeus did not immediately declare war on Poseidon when he discovered his Master Bolt had been stolen. While they are important, they are not the be-all and end-all of their existence. Why do you think Kronos' Scythe was so important to his resurrection?"
Percy's eyes widened. "You mean…"
She nodded. "For the Titans, symbols of power are far more than measly weapons. My father's Javelin, Kronos' Scythe, I would suspect even Bob's Broom - their symbols of power are what sustain them when even mortal worship and their thrones have left them. If a Titan were to be truly separated from their symbol of power, they would especially in this age, they would not be long for this world."
Oh.
Oh.
It all made sense now.
"Anaklusmos is your symbol of power," he stated, "It's been regenerating, glowing, whatever, because of you."
Zoe nodded. "It has been a long time since I have been in such close proximity to Anaklusmos. During our quest to Mount Tamalpais, I believe that my oath to Artemis overrode any attempts the sword would have been making to return to me. But now, when we are both regenerating, and I am no longer bound to any other greater beings? Anaklusmos has likely been yearning to find me the moment you fell into the pit."
Percy felt uneasy at the revelation, for a multitude of reasons. "Does that mean that Riptide is alive?" He asked.
"Not in the way thou or I are, no," Zoe replied, pursing her lips, "Is it conscious? Perhaps. Not in the way a god or a Titan or even a Primordial Concept exists, but perhaps in the same way the water can move and follow and resist thy influence. The same way that the air can bend and buck at a son of Zeus's command, or the way the plants will heed a child of Demeter's call to grow. Anaklusmos is not alive, but it is real and aware."
Yikes. How many times had he used Riptide for silly, mundane tasks like shaving or cutting fruit? Or picking up nasty stuff that he wouldn't bother to even with gloves on? Would it resent him for that?
At his troubled look, Zoe squeezed his hand. "Thou are still its master," she reminded him, "Anaklusmos has recognized thee as its wielder. If thee were not, it would not return to thee as it does."
Riptide– Anaklusmos– the sword hummed in agreement. He plucked the pen from his pocket, and watched as the blade began to glow silver the moment it was freed. Zoe stared into the sword like it was a long-lost friend.
"You should have it," Percy decided after a moment, ignoring the way Zoe gasped at him in surprise. "Anaklusmos is yours."
"Percy," she whispered, "I can't. It is thy weapon now. Thou cannot afford to be defenseless in this place."
He shook his head. "I can manage."
"No." Zoe shook her head resolutely. "I will not accept. I cannot risk thy safety anymore. I cannot put thee in more danger than thou already is–"
Percy cut her off with a hug. He pulled her close, ignoring the way Small Bob grumpily meowed at them as his blanket kneading session was interrupted. "Then promise me," he whispered, "Promise me that if we get put into a situation where we're both doomed that you'll take Riptide and leave me to die, and that you'll move on and get out of here and you'll live."
"P-percy." Zoe trembled in his grip. "Don't– don't make me promise that. I can't."
"Please," he insisted. "Promise me."
Zoe's arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing him tightly. Wet tears soaked the remains of his t-shirt.
"I– I promise."
He felt like a puppet whose strings had finally been cut. His arms slackened, and he was reminded of just how tired he was. Damasen had told them to rest, hadn't he?
Percy let go of Zoe.
She didn't let go of him.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
–
Percy consumed the stew Damasen had provided for them as politely as he could - which wasn't saying much. Every so often he took a handful of the grapes Dionysus had somehow sent them, and together they made a pretty tasty meal.
In the distance, a beast roared.
Percy tensed. "What was that?"
"The Maeonian drakon," Damasen muttered, Zoe and Bob shuffling closer to the bonfire, "It is returning. I fear its roar will draw the others - my brethren, hunting you. They will be here within minutes."
He tossed Zoe and Percy two leather satchels. "Clothes, food, drink."
Bob was donning a similar pack. Small Bob popped his head out from the inside of the satchel, and he meowed happily as he went to town on a piece of drakon jerky.
What a strange group they were. A Giant made to oppose Ares. One of the original four pillars of the Titans. A former Titan-turned-Hunter of Artemis who had risen to the pinnacle of her station, only to be placed in the stars and be cast into Tartarus.
And a demigod son of Poseidon who should have never been born, and had made himself many an enemy across the immortal world.
An oath to keep with a final breath,
And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.
Percy dropped his (thankfully empty) bowl to the floor. It made a hollow sound as it rattled against the earth.
"The prophecy," he breathed out once all eyes were on him, "Foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."
Zoe, who had probably known the prophecy since it was originally given millenia ago, tensed.
Percy gave Damasen a desperate look. "You have to come with us. We need you to help close the Doors."
The drakon roared again outside, closer this time. Damasen stood, grass fluttering out of his hair.
"No, boy," he murmured, "My curse is here. I cannot escape it."
"Yes, you can!" Percy insisted. "Don't fight the drakon. Break the cycle. Resist the pull of destiny. Fight your fate."
Damasen shook his head. "Even if I could, I cannot leave the swamp. It is the only destination I can picture."
"Then remember us," Percy said suddenly, "Remember our faces. Picture us, not the swamp. When you're ready, you can come with us. You can see the mortal world again."
Damasen hesitated.
Then the ground shook. The drakon was close now, stomping through the marsh, blasting trees and moss with its poison spray. Further away, he heard the voice of his father's antithesis urging his followers onward. "THE SEA GOD'S SON! HE IS CLOSE!"
"Percy," Zoe said urgently, "We must make haste."
Percy didn't say anything.
Damasen turned away.
"We must leave." Bob urged again, Small Bob climbing onto his shoulder.
The two Titans dragged Percy to the entrance. None of them looked back as they ran into the swamp, but he heard Damasen behind them, shouting a battle cry at the advancing drakon, his voice cracking with despair as he faced his old enemy yet again.
–
A/N: Anotha day, another chapter. This is going by a lot quicker than I imagined. Maybe it's because I've practically given up my month to write this. But hey, I'm not complaining and I don't think you all are either, so…
The truth is out! What will Percy do with this information of being the only thing keeping Zoe from true Titanhood again? Something smart and rational?
Nope. Not even close!
Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought! I'll see you next time!
P.S. Thank you all so much for 100 follows and 100 favorites! It means the world to me that you guys love this story so much!