So, last summer was a shitstorm. No other way to put it. Percy Jackson was used to the whole demigod life being a constant parade of near-death experiences, but last summer? It took the cake and then some. Medusa? Sure, she was the kind of monster you could almost call a "peach"—if you ignored the whole turning-people-into-stone bit. But everyone else? A literal nightmare parade. Like, who wakes up in the morning thinking, "Oh, today seems like a great day to fight a chimera"? Nobody sane, that's who. Yet there Percy was, facing down a fire-breathing lion-goat-snake thing and ending the day by yeeting himself off a freaking arch. He didn't exactly have a choice, but the fact that a body of water just happened to be waiting for him below didn't make it any less of a trauma-inducing leap of faith. It's one thing to jump into a pool, and a whole other thing to dive into what could be your watery grave. It's not something Percy ever wants to do again.
But that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh no, the universe wasn't done screwing with him. Of all the gods, it had to be Ares, the asshole war god, who decided to target Nico. Nico, who despite being the King of Ghosts, was still just a kid. Percy didn't sign up for any of this so-called hero business to see his angel of a cousin—yes, Percy would never admit this out loud, but Nico was practically angelic with his dark, broody eyes and that lost-puppy look he sometimes got—lying bloody and broken in his arms. It was the kind of image that sticks with you, you know? It was like the ocean had swallowed Percy whole, dragging him down to a place so deep and dark that it almost seemed peaceful. Almost. Everything had gone quiet, like the whole world was underwater, and no matter how hard Percy kicked and fought, he couldn't break the surface. He couldn't do a damn thing to help Nico, and it killed him.
But then, out of that unnatural quiet, something snapped. It wasn't a gentle nudge from the sea. It was more like a tidal wave of rage, raw and unfiltered, slamming into Percy with the force of a freight train. He'd never felt anything like it before, and it should have scared the hell out of him. But it didn't. The only thing on Percy's mind was making Ares pay. This was the god of war they were talking about, and yet Percy felt this burning need to show him what real wrath looked like. For the first time, Percy got why his dad was called the Earthshaker, the father of monsters. Because there was something monstrous inside Percy too, and it was ready to tear through anything that stood in its way.
Once upon a time, that would have freaked Percy out. The thought of having something so dark and violent inside him, something that could turn the tide of battles and leave destruction in its wake, would have made him lose sleep. But now? Percy couldn't bring himself to care. Not even a little. If having a monster inside was the price he had to pay to protect his friends and family, then so be it. He'd pay that price a thousand times over, and he wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. Because at the end of the day, being a monster wasn't the worst thing Percy could imagine. The worst thing would be losing the people he cared about, and if anyone thought he was going to let that happen, they were about to get a very rude awakening. Percy wasn't just the son of Poseidon; he was a force to be reckoned with. And if that meant embracing the monster within, then he was ready to let it out. Tenfold.
In the end, Percy did what he had to do. He defeated Ares, the walking embodiment of macho douchebaggery, and finished his quest. But that didn't mean the rest of the summer was all sunshine and rainbows. Nope, that was just the beginning of a whole new kind of hell. The kind that didn't involve giant monsters or gods with grudges, but the kind that made you question everything and everyone you thought you could trust.
Luke Castellan. The name still left a bitter taste in Percy's mouth, like swallowing seawater mixed with betrayal. This was the guy who had been the campers' friend, their leader. He was the one who taught the young demigods how to fight, who gave him that first sense of camaraderie at Camp Half-Blood. And then to find out Luke was the traitor they'd been searching for? It was like being hit by a wave you didn't see coming, knocking the air out of you and leaving you gasping, disoriented, wondering how the hell you missed it.
Well, to everyone but the Elysium Prep students. There's something to say about an outsiders' perspective.
And here's the kicker: when Percy figured it out, when he tried to tell Chiron—good ol' wise centaur Chiron—what was up, Chiron didn't listen. Sure, Chiron was practically a walking history book and was supposed to know everything about everything, but apparently, when it came to Luke, he was all too willing to let his emotions get in the way. Percy had practically begged Chiron to go after Luke, to do something, anything to stop him, but what did Chiron do? He was lenient. Let Luke slip away like it was no big deal, like this wasn't the guy who almost destroyed the camp and sold them out to the freaking Titans.
Percy couldn't help but feel a little conflicted. On one hand, he was glad everyone was safe, or at least as safe as a demigod could ever be. But on the other, he was pissed. Pissed at Luke for betraying the Camp, pissed at Chiron for letting it happen, and pissed at himself for not doing something sooner. It was like the whole summer had been one big cosmic joke, and the punchline was that trust was just an illusion, a lie they told themselves to sleep better at night.
So yeah, the rest of the summer? It was a mess. They spent weeks hunting Luke down, sending out demigod search parties all over the place, like some epic game of hide and seek where the stakes were life and death. Luke, being the sneaky snake he was, managed to stay one step ahead of them. Every. Single. Time. And when they did get close? Luke had traps set up that made Percy's heart stop just thinking about them. We're talking full-on death traps, the kind of stuff that belonged in a dungeon in some horror movie, not out in the real world where actual kids—okay, demigods, but still kids—were trying not to get themselves killed.
Thankfully, there was one group who came through in a big way: the Elysium Prep kids. Percy knew that the campers had not been exactly big fan of them at first—who needed broody, death-obsessed demigods hanging around, right? But when push came to shove, the Elysium Prep students had the campers' backs. They brought along their school's hellhounds—massive, snarling beasts straight out of your worst nightmares—and used them to shadowtravel the demigods back to camp before they could get caught in one of Luke's twisted traps. Hellhounds, as it turned out, were pretty freaking useful when you were about to be squished by a boulder or impaled by a bunch of spikes. Who knew?
Percy, Alabaster, Ethan, and every other Elysium Prep student knew! And finally, the Half-Camp demigods were catching up!
No one died, which, in Percy's world, was a big deal. But there were a lot of close calls. And a lot of injuries. Serious ones. He could still remember the screams, the sight of young campers being carried back to camp on makeshift stretchers, bloody and broken. Some of them had injuries that would never heal completely. Amputations weren't exactly what Percy had signed up for when he thought about spending his summer at camp. But that was their reality now.
Funny thing was, after everything that went down, Camp Half-Blood had a newfound respect for the Underworld. Before, the Underworld had been seen as a little too creepy, too dark and dangerous. But now? Now, it had been the Underworld monsters who had saved them. The same demigods who once made faces when the Elysium Prep students walked by now welcomed them with open arms. If anything, they were more grateful than ever for the Underworld's strange and terrifying powers, because those powers had saved them, saved their siblings.
Or at least, that's what Alabaster and Ethan told Percy. Not that Percy paid much attention to anything else that summer. Honestly, the whole camp could've been overrun with cyclopes selling "I Survived Luke Castellan" t-shirts, and he wouldn't have noticed. Percy's focus was pretty much glued to one thing: Nico's recovery. The kid had been through hell—literally and figuratively—and Percy wasn't about to let him deal with it alone, even if they were miles apart.
But, of course, Nico wasn't hanging around Camp Half-Blood. Nope, he'd been sequestered away in the Underworld for the remainder of the summer. Queen Persephone had decided that her stepson—and let's face it, her champion—wasn't going to be out of her sight. Apparently, she'd developed a pretty intense protective streak when it came to Nico, which Percy couldn't really blame her for. If he were in her shoes (sandals? throne?), he'd probably be doing the exact same thing. Nico might've been this dark, brooding powerhouse with a whole "I'm not afraid of death because I literally control it" vibe, but to Percy, he was still just a kid who had been through way more crap than any preteen should have to endure.
Percy hated that Nico had to be stuck down there in the Underworld, away from the sun, the fresh air, and, you know, life. But he got it. Percy understood that Nico was safer down there, far from the chaos that seemed to follow them around like a bad smell. Even if it grated on his nerves to be separated, he knew it was the best place for Nico right now. Didn't mean he had to like it, though. And, because Percy was Percy, he wasn't about to let the Underworld's borders keep him from making sure Nico was okay.
Enter the daily Iris Messages. Yeah, it wasn't the same as having Nico right there, but it was something. Every day, Percy would sneak off to some quiet spot, summon up an Iris Message, and check in. And let's not forget the pomegranate thing. Percy had made it a ritual—every single meal, he'd burn a sacrifice pomegranate to King Hades and Queen Persephone as a thank you for keeping Nico safe. Because, as much as Percy didn't love the idea of praying to the gods, he wasn't taking any chances when it came to Nico. This was about making sure his friend stayed safe, and if that meant sucking up to the King and Queen of the Underworld, then that's what he was going to do.
But of course, Nico being Nico, he couldn't just let Percy do that without saying something. One day, after Percy sent his usual "Hey, how's it going in the land of the dead?" message, Nico went off on a full-blown, hour-long rant about the "propriety" of a prince—because apparently, that's what Percy was now—praying to another godly king without doing the same for his own dad. The whole time, Percy just sat there, watching Nico get all huffy and indignant, and couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot. It was ridiculous, really. Here was Nico, half-dead a few weeks ago, and now he was scolding Percy like he'd forgotten to do his homework.
Honestly, Percy had missed this. He'd missed Nico's lecturing, that rare spark of emotion that Nico usually kept buried under about a thousand layers of death-related brooding. It felt good to hear it again, even if it was over something as trivial as divine manners. Percy could've apologized, could've promised to do better, but instead, he just sat there, taking it all in with this big, stupid, fond smile plastered on his face. He even made a promise—half serious, half to make Nico stop glaring through the Iris Message—to add a roll of sushi to the sacrificial burning for Poseidon, right alongside the pomegranate.
The idea of his dad getting a burnt offering of sushi made Percy snicker, but it was worth it to see the exasperated look on Nico's face. The Underworld prince might've rolled his eyes, but Percy could see the tiny smirk Nico was trying to hide. They both knew this was just Percy being Percy—doing whatever it took to keep the people he cared about safe, even if it meant bending the rules a little, or a lot.
Percy knew that Nico didn't really care about the propriety of it all. The kid was just trying to feel normal again, to get back some of that balance that had been ripped away. If scolding Percy about sacrifices was Nico's way of finding his footing, then Percy would take it. He'd take it and hold onto it, because it meant Nico was still fighting, still here, and still, at least partly, the same old Nico.
So yeah, that's how the rest of Percy's summer went—dodging more quests, sending Iris Messages to the Underworld like it was the latest trend, and offering up pomegranates (and the occasional sushi) to the gods. It was weird, it was exhausting, and it was more than a little stressful. But in the middle of all that craziness, there were these moments—these tiny, ordinary moments—where Percy felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. Nico would be okay. And if he had to burn a whole orchard's worth of pomegranates to keep it that way, then that was a price he was willing to pay.
So, as soon as the school year kicked off, Percy did what any good friend would do after a summer from hell: he took Nico out for ice cream. And not just any ice cream, but the kind that made you forget about all the crap you've been through, even if it was just for a few minutes. Percy picked Nico up after classes at Elysium Prep—because apparently, even the sons of the Big Three had to deal with back-to-school bullshit—and they made a beeline for the closest Baskin-Robbins in New York City. No monsters, no quests, just two demigods and a whole lot of ice cream.
Percy insisted on paying, of course. It was his way of saying thanks for everything Nico had done for him, even though a couple of scoops of ice cream hardly felt like enough. But when you're a preteen with a hero complex and a serious lack of funds, Baskin-Robbins was about as good as it got. Percy got himself a scoop of Beach Day in a cone, and Nico went for Rainbow Sherbet in a cup, because of course, Nico would pick the one flavor that looked like a literal rainbow explosion. Percy wasn't complaining, though. Seeing Nico with something as colorful and bright as Rainbow Sherbet felt like a win.
They snagged a table outside, the kind with a flimsy umbrella that didn't really block the sun but made you feel like it did. Percy took a huge bite of his Beach Day cone and practically melted in his seat. The salted vanilla ice cream was like a wave crashing over his taste buds, and the milk chocolate caramel-filled sea turtles? Yeah, those were like little pockets of happiness, reminding him of the ocean and home and everything good in the world. There were frosting flecks and swirls of graham cracker "sand" mixed in, and honestly, if Percy could build a sandcastle out of this ice cream, he totally would. He was especially grateful he'd gotten back in time before the summer-limited Beach Day flavor disappeared from stores. Missing out on this would've been a tragedy in itself.
Next to him, Nico took a bite of his Rainbow Sherbet and let out this little moan of appreciation that made Percy grin. The sherbet was a trio of flavors—tart raspberry, sweet pineapple, and tangy orange—that somehow managed to be creamy and refreshing at the same time. It wasn't quite ice cream and it wasn't quite sorbet, but something perfectly in between. The swirling colors really did look like a rainbow, all bright and cheerful, which was a pretty hilarious contrast to Nico's usual wardrobe of black-on-black. Percy had to admit, it was weird seeing Nico eat something so vibrant, but in a good way.
The two of them sat there, just enjoying their ice cream, moaning with every bite like it was the best thing they'd ever tasted. And honestly, after the summer they'd had, maybe it was. Percy watched people walk by, listened to the sounds of the city, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself just... be. No monsters lurking around the corner, no gods with grudges, just the two of them and their ice cream. He glanced over at Nico, who was savoring his Rainbow Sherbet like it was a rare delicacy. Percy couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude. Not just for the ice cream, but for the fact that Nico was here, alive, and actually enjoying himself.
"So," Percy said, breaking the comfortable silence, "on a scale of one to 'this is the best thing I've ever eaten,' where's the sherbet landing?"
Nico looked up, a bit of the rainbow-colored treat smudged on his lip. He thought about it for a second before giving Percy one of those rare, almost shy smiles. "Probably an eight. Could be a ten if you'd let me pay for my own ice cream."
Percy laughed, shaking his head. "No way. You've saved my ass too many times to count. Letting me buy you ice cream is the least I can do."
Nico rolled his eyes but didn't argue, which was another win in Percy's book. They went back to their ice cream, the sun setting behind them, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The city buzzed around them, full of life and energy, but for a few minutes, it felt like they were in their own little world. Just Percy and Nico, two kids who'd seen too much but were still standing, still fighting, and still finding joy in the little things—like a perfect scoop of ice cream on a warm autumn day.
Percy licked the last bit of his Beach Day cone, already missing the taste as soon as it was gone. He watched Nico scrape the bottom of his cup, determined to get every last bit of sherbet. Percy knew they'd have to go back to their regular lives soon—school, training, and the ever-present threat of monsters—but for now, they were just two friends enjoying a rare moment of peace. And that was more than enough.
"Thanks," Nico said suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant. Percy looked at him, surprised, because Nico wasn't exactly known for his thank-yous.
"For the ice cream?" Percy asked, even though he knew it wasn't just about that.
Nico nodded, his dark eyes meeting Percy's with a sincerity that caught Percy off guard. "Yeah, and for... everything."
Percy didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded back, feeling a lump form in his throat. He wasn't good with words, not when it came to stuff like this, so he settled for the one thing he knew Nico would understand. "Anytime, man. Anytime."
Not wanting the day to end, Nico leaned back in his chair, a rare mischievous glint in his eyes. Percy noticed, raising an eyebrow. This wasn't something he saw from Nico every day. Usually, the kid was all prim and proper, with maybe a hint of sarcasm if you were lucky. But right now, he looked like he had a story to tell, one that Percy probably wouldn't believe if he didn't hear it straight from the source.
"So," Nico began, his voice low and casual, like he was just chatting about the weather. "You know how Ares got his ass handed to him after everything that happened, right?"
Percy snorted, licking the last of his ice cream off his fingers. "Uh, yeah. Pretty sure I was there for that part, remember?"
Nico rolled his eyes, but the smirk didn't fade. "Yeah, well, turns out Ares didn't just get a beatdown from you. Stepmother wasn't exactly thrilled about what happened to me, so she decided to make sure Ares really paid for it."
Percy leaned in, intrigued. He knew Persephone had a temper—he'd heard from Nico that she had lost it once or twice—but this? This sounded different. "What did she do?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Nico's smirk widened. "She dragged him down to the Underworld. Literally dragged him by the ear, like some kid who got caught stealing cookies. But that's not the best part. She didn't just yell at him or banish him or whatever. She tortured him."
Percy blinked, taken aback. "Tortured him? Like, actual torture?"
Nico nodded, looking way too pleased with himself. "Yep. And she didn't hold back, either. She made sure Ares felt every bit of pain he deserved. And she left this white rug under him, to soak up all the ichor that spilled out."
Percy's jaw dropped. He'd always thought of Persephone as the kind of goddess who was all about flowers and sunshine—more Mother Nature, less, well, torture chamber mastermind. But apparently, she had a side he'd seriously underestimated.
"And get this," Nico continued, clearly enjoying Percy's shock. "When she was done, she gave me the rug. It's completely golden now from all the ichor Ares bled out. Not a single patch of white left."
Percy stared at Nico, completely stunned. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of the Goddess of Spring going full-on medieval on the God of War. And then the absurdity of it all hit him, and he threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
"Holy crap!" Percy gasped between laughs, clutching his stomach. "Ares got his ass handed to him by Queen Persephone? That's... that's priceless! He totally deserved it! I mean, that guy's been asking for it for years, and of all people, it's the queen of flowers who finally puts him in his place!"
"Yeah, well, don't let the flowers fool you. Stepmother got a mean streak when she wants to. And I don't think Ares will be messing with her—or me—again anytime soon." Nico chuckled too.
Percy wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning like an idiot. "Remind me never to piss her off. I don't want to end up as a rug in the Underworld."
Nico shook his head, but there was a fondness in his gaze that Percy didn't miss. "You'd probably look good in gold, but yeah, best not to test her."
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that only comes after sharing something truly ridiculous but also kind of amazing. Percy couldn't stop thinking about it—the image of Persephone, dainty and delicate in her floral crown, dragging a bloodied Ares down to the Underworld like he was a naughty kid caught breaking curfew. It was just too perfect. And the fact that she'd done it for Nico? That just made Percy's respect for her skyrocket.
"So, what are you going to do with the rug?" Percy asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of a rug soaked in golden ichor. "Use it as a throw blanket? Wall art? Sacrifice it to Hades?"
Nico smirked, his dark eyes twinkling with that same mischievous glint. "I have a study in San Fransisco, I put it there. You know, as a reminder that even gods aren't invincible."
Percy shook his head, laughing again. "Yeah, because nothing says 'welcome to my humble abode' like a blood-soaked rug from the God of War."
Nico shrugged, but there was something almost proud in his expression. "Better than a 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign."
Percy snorted. "Can't argue with that."
They sat there for a while longer, watching the city move around them. Percy couldn't help but feel a deep sense of relief, knowing that Nico had someone like Persephone in his corner. It made him feel a little less guilty about not being able to protect Nico himself. At least now he knew that if anyone messed with Nico, they'd have to answer to the Goddess of Spring, and that was a terrifying thought in its own right.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over everything, Percy sighed contentedly. "You know, I think we're going to be okay," he said, more to himself than to Nico. But Nico heard him anyway.
"Yeah," Nico agreed, his voice soft but certain. "I think so too."
And with that, they stood up, tossed their napkins in the trash, and started walking back to the subway. The day might have been ending, but for the first time in a long while, Percy felt like maybe the worst was behind them. They'd survived another summer, faced down gods and monsters, and they were still here, still standing. And as long as they had each other—and maybe the occasional intervention from a vengeful spring goddess—Percy figured they could handle whatever came next.
Because at the end of the day, they weren't just demigods. They were survivors. And that was something no god, no matter how powerful, could ever take away from them.