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flightfoot · 5 years

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Memories of Godly Selfishness Ch. 3

So this took awhile, what with the carpal tunnel (which I still have. It sucks. But I couldn’t resist writing this any longer).

It got pretty crazy long, (13000+ words) so I am actually using a Read More this time. At least if something happens to my blog at any point, it’s still on AO3 and FFN.

Hope you guys like this! I worked hard on it!

When the world cleared, we were in the center of a large room, with giant thrones circling us. I recognized the place immediately, even with my failing memory. The Olympian throne room. I glanced at my golden throne. I wanted to stare at it for longer and wallow in self-pity at what I used to have, but something tore my attention away from the gleaming golden seat.

Kronos has a way of doing that.

“Finally!” he bellowed. I heard Annabeth breathe in sharply. She stared at him, looking confused and shocked. Meg was decidedly less surprised, looking somewhat bored as she looked over at the Titan. I really shouldn’t be surprised. Unless she’s already familiar with a threat, Meg’s rarely intimidated by them.

The titan continued. I wished he had been nice enough to pause so that people in the future rewatching a memory of the event could talk and look around more. “The Olympian Council - so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I destroy first?”

“This is a flashback, isn’t it?” Annabeth asked quietly, refusing to tear her gaze from the body of the young man Kronos was inhabiting. I felt like I should know why she looked like she’d been sucker-punched, but as usual, the memories refused to surface. “Percy told me about the one he and you two went into.”

I frowned. Percy had stepped out of our tent to go eat, but he’d be back soon. I hoped he didn’t panic when he found the three of us in this weird trance. I marshalled my thoughts. Worrying about Percy’s reactions wouldn’t change anything. I needed to stick with the here and now. Or there and then, I supposed.

“It looks that w-” I cut off, as a young man stepped forward from beside Kronos. My eyes had been drawn so thoroughly to the Titan, that I had somehow overlooked him. “My lord,” he said warningly. I looked around, trying to find who he was warning Kronos of. I spotted younger versions of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, looking scared, but determined.

Ah. This must be when the final battle with Kronos had taken place. I recalled now how we gods had raced here after defeating Typhon, determined to defend our thrones, hoping that we weren’t too late... only to find a satyr, two injured demigods, and one dead child of Hermes instead. We never were able to find out the details. Zeus didn’t care much for a full report. I’d love to attribute that to him recognizing how much Percy, Annabeth, and Grover needed to grieve quietly and not wanting to press them, but I knew the truth. He didn’t want to dwell on how mortals had had to defend our thrones, our very existence. Even worse, they had defeated an enemy that we had struggled with. Sometimes it seemed like every decision that my father made either tied back to his inability to stop himself from chasing every pretty girl that crossed his path, or his desire to avoid looking weak.

I was curious on how exactly those three had managed to defeat Kronos, but even as I looked forwards to seeing exactly what happened, a knot formed in my stomach. My last two ventures into memories - first my own, then Percy’s - had resulted in me learning some uncomfortable truths, or in some cases, accepting some uncomfortable truths I had always known, but had tried to push down. I did not regret learning those truths - I REFUSED to ignore other’s pain anymore - but it made me wary of what I’d be forced to face this time. I doubted that whatever force decided when and what flashbacks to present would give me a break. I only hoped that my companions were spared any more pain. The first flashback into my memories had shaken Meg deeply. I wished to be the only one negatively affected by these experiences.

Looking over at our Annabeth, still staring at Kronos, barely breathing, I doubted that the universe would fulfill my wish.

“Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?” Kronos asked. He sounded mocking, almost bored. “Is that the choice you will make - to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know.”

“Hey!” I interjected. I knew how painful prophecies could be, but I couldn’t let this stand. I was the god of prophecy, after all. “A lot of prophecies sound worse than they-”

“Shh!” Meg exclaimed, clapping a hand over my mouth while glaring at me fiercely. Percy was talking. I’d missed the first part due to my interruption. “-you don’t have his skill.”

I may have missed the first portion of that statement, but I knew a challenge when I heard it. Kronos sneered, morphing his scythe into a sword. Ah. Percy had been clever. Get Kronos to use a weapon that Percy had more experience with, rather than one where he didn’t have a clue what fighting style to expect.

past!Annabeth gasped. “Percy, the blade!” she called. “The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.” I wasn’t sure what she had figured out about the prophecy. I liked to pretend that I understood more about what prophecies meant than I actually did. This had the unfortunate side effect of meaning that I couldn’t just ask around about how a prophecy was fulfilled exactly, for fear of looking dumb. I’d never found out what exactly every part of the Great Prophecy referred to, nor the Prophecy of Seven. I made a mental note to ask about the Prophecy of Seven later. I had a guess as to how it was fulfilled, but it would be nice to have confirmation.

“Wait!” past!Annabeth yelled as Kronos raised his new sword. I had no idea why she thought Kronos would obey her, but considering all that she had accomplished, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had had a trick up her sleeve. Alas, she didn’t. Kronos whirled, a maelstrom of steel and Celestial bronze. Percy managed to fend him off, though I didn’t know for how long he could keep that up. Meanwhile, the young man who accompanied Kronos engaged Annabeth. I wished I could remember his name, but as much as I wracked my brain, nothing came up.

Kronos backed Percy up against Hephaestus’s throne. As Kronos slashed at Percy, determined to cut him in two, Percy leaped upwards onto the seat. “Get off there!” I yelled, forgetting for a moment that this was a memory. I heard the tell-tale whirring and clicking of the throne’s defenses being engaged. Luckily, Percy heard them too. He leaped off of the throne and over Kronos’s head, clearing the seat just before it let out a blast of electricity. Kronos wasn’t so lucky. One hit him in the face, causing him to fall to his knees and drop his sword.

I didn’t cheer. No way it was this easy.

past!Annabeth kicked her own opponent out of the way and ran towards Kronos. “Luke, listen!”

Luke. That was the name of the man whose body Kronos had stolen. I remembered now. He had helped start up the Second Titan War, recruiting demigods and lowering the Camp’s defenses by poisoning Thalia’s tree. More importantly, he was the one who had dragged my sister over to Annabeth as she struggled under the weight of the sky, forcing her to either take up the burden, or leave a maiden to die. I waited for the surge of anger that usually accompanied that memory. It never came. I was still unhappy with him for all the pain he had put my sister and the demigods through, but I appreciated his reasons better now.

But Luke was gone. Only Kronos remained. He flicked his hand, sending past!Annabeth flying across the room. She hit her mother’s throne and crumpled to the ground.

“Annabeth!” Percy screamed.

Annabeth’s former opponent got to his feet, standing in Percy’s path. Percy would have to go through him to get to Annabeth. I almost felt sorry for his opponent.

Grover played his music for all it was worth. Grass sprang up in the throne room, roots creeping up the marble. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish, but I hope he’d finish it soon. I doubted that he would get much time.

Kronos got up off the floor, though he still couldn’t stand. Instead he kneeled, attempting to call his sword to him. It didn’t move.

“Nakamura!” he groaned (ah, so THAT’S what his ally’s name was! ... I still didn’t remember him.) “Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson’s secret weakness. Kill him, and you will have rewards beyond measure.”

His secret weakness? I was about to ask, though I felt like I SHOULD know what it was, when Meg beat me to it. “What secret weakness?”

Annabeth dropped her gaze to Meg, looking relieved to think about something besides whatever had been bothering her for the last few minutes. “Percy had the Achilles’ curse. He was invulnerable everywhere except for one spot, but a strike at that spot would kill him.”

She finished speaking just in time. Percy started reasoning with Nakamura. If I’d been a god, I would’ve said it was a lost cause, that he was wasting his breath trying to talk out the situation with someone who had already sided with the baby-god-swallower Kronos. Since I’d been human, though, I’d tried that approach myself. Sometimes it had even worked. I hoped that Percy had the same luck.

“Look around you, Ethan. The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? DO you really want everything destroyed - the good with the bad? Everything?”

That wasn’t ENTIRELY accurate. Kronos wanted to destroy Western civilization as we know it, putting himself as ruler. But he didn’t want to destroy the world, or even humanity. In that respect, he was better than Gaea. Barely. But I didn’t think that Percy cared for semantics. It would be the end of the world as HE knew it at least. Especially since he, his friends, and most especially, Annabeth and his mother would almost certainly not live to see the sun rise on Kronos’s world.

While Percy was talking, Grover had inched his way to Annabeth, the roots growing thicker, until they were nearly a foot tall. Ethan seemed distracted, mulling over what Percy had said.

“There is not throne to Nemesis,” Ethan muttered. “No throne to my mother.”

“That’s right!” Kronos called, attempting to stoke the flames of Ethan’s vengeance. “Strike them down! They deserve to suffer.”

Not that Percy was giving up that easily. “You said your mom is the goddess of balance. The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn’t balance. Kronos doesn’t build. He only destroys.”

Ethan looked around, taking in the destruction that had ALREADY been wrought. I held my breath. The next minute would determine where this conflict went. Ethan swayed a little to Grover’s song, and then blinked.

He charged... but not at Percy. He charged at Kronos, swinging his sword at Kronos’s neck. I wanted to cheer, but I knew it couldn’t be THAT easy. Sure enough, his sword broke, a shard of it piercing his own armor.

Kronos stood up, his face a mask of fury. “Treason,” he snarled.

Grover kept right on playing, covering Ethan with grass. I presumed that he was either trying to hide Ethan, or trying to give him some protection. There was no way it would work - ultimately it was just grass, and Kronos was a Titan - but I knew he had to try. I knew a thing or two about trying to save people, even though it was hopeless. Even though I had already failed.

“Deserve better,” Ethan gasped, trying to impart a last message to Percy. I went very, very still, reminded of another demigod who had tried to drill in a message in his last moments. ““If they just... had thrones-”

Kronos stomped his foot down beside Ethan, shattering the floor. I watched numbly as the son of Nemesis tumbled through the open air down to Olympus. My mind replayed his last message. He wanted thrones for the minor gods. Recognition. Respect. That was all. We could have done that earlier, way, WAY earlier. But we chose not to. While some of us had campaigned for certain gods to be given thrones - especially our own children, or ones we’d imbued with divinity in the first place - few of us cared about giving recognition beyond our own chosen ones. We were proud and selfish like that. It had taken Percy strong-arming the gods to agree to even that small a concession, that small a recognition that they were gods too, and deserved to be treated as such.

Kronos smiled while looking at the hole he had created, amused by Ethan’s impending death. “So much for him.” He raised his head, resting his gaze on Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. His smile widened. “And now for the rest of you.”

Grover had made his way over to Annabeth while Kronos was busy disposing of Ethan, and was currently feeding her ambrosia. It was helping, but she was clearly not going to be back to full fighting shape for several more hours at least.

The roots Grover had summoned wrapped around Kronos’s feet, but he ignored them. They would have to be a lot stronger to even inconvenience Kronos to a notable degree.

Kronos and Percy fought through Hestia’s hearth, kicking up coals. Only small sparks remained in the Hearth, not enough to hurt either Kronos or Percy. We came so, SO close to disappearing, to the flame of Olympus being snuffed out forever. Kronos lopped off the armrest of Ares’ throne (I cringed slightly at that, imagining my own glorious throne being abused that way) and backed Percy up against his dad’s throne. “Oh, yes,” Kronos cried, savoring his impending victory. “This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!”

They fought, blades clashing wildly. Percy got in one good hit, cutting a gash through Kronos’s armor, but not piercing his skin. Percy was a truly EXCELLENT fighter. I feared that it wouldn’t be enough.

Kronos stamped his foot, slowing time to a crawl. Percy moved in slow motion, vulnerable. Kronos could have killed him right then, but luckily for Percy, he was the type to brag and monologue. If he had been Caligula or Nero, the fight would already have been over. The more powerful someone is, the stronger their power over their opponent, the more stupid and careless they tended to be. They refused to take their weaker opponents seriously. Gods, Titans, Giants, Monsters - we were just as susceptible to arrogance and hubris as any mortal. And when it catches up to us, we fall just as hard.

“It’s too late, Percy Jackson. Behold.”

He pointed towards the hearth, the coals glowing at his command. I hated to see my aunt’s, HIS DAUGHTER’S hearth under his control. It was a violation of who she is, of what is. This was her home, the home of all us Olympians. He had no right to control the flame.

Nevertheless, white smoke erupted from the coals, forming into images. Nico, Sally Jackson, and a man I didn’t recognize fought off enemies together, though from their numbers, I doubted they could keep it up much longer. Hades fought behind them, summoning zombies, fighting Kronos’s army with his own. Even with his efforts, Kronos’s army kept pressing forwards, inch by inch. Manhattan fared badly, mortals running in a panic, cars smashing into one another. While no one was specifically targeting them, Kronos’s forces weren’t trying to avoid them either. I heard many humans screaming in pain and fear. Some were too far gone for that, simply laying limply on the ground as they were tread over by dozens of feet. If they weren’t dead before, they were now.

Such sights were not new to me. I’d watched scenes like this, and many scenes even bloodier, from this very hearth. But after all I’d witnessed and experienced, it made my stomach churn. How could I have once ENJOYED this carnage, this suffering?

The scene shifted, showing a different scene of destruction. This one more familiar. After all, I had been part of it.

A pillar of storm approached Hudson Bay. Gleaming chariots encircled it, tiny figures letting loose flashes of light. I spotted the tell-tale streaks of my golden arrows and my sister’s silver arrows, firing into the vortex and exploding. Slowly the cloud parted. Panic coursed through me as I looked into Typhon’s hideous face, his horrible visage morphing constantly. Once I caught a glimpse of amber snake eyes flecked with gold.

“The Olympians are giving their final effort,” Kronos laughed derisively, sneering at the image. “How pathetic.”

Zeus threw a thunderbolt at Typhon, sending a blinding light throughout the world. I shuddered. When he had thrown that bolt during the fight, I had panicked and thought it was meant for me, for just a moment. I had known that Zeus wouldn’t be so stupid as to punish me during such a fight, not while so much was at stake, but fear isn’t always rational. Even now I flinched at the sight, fearing a shock I knew in my head wouldn’t come. That didn’t stop my heart from hammering.

Meg seemed to notice my distress. She took my hand and squeezed slightly. I took several shaky breaths. Everything was fine. Or would be fine. This had already happened. Zeus was fighting an enemy, not searing my essence.

The smoke cleared. Typhon staggered slightly, but remained standing. That had been Zeus’s strongest attack, the strongest of any of us. We were doomed.

Yet we had survived. How?

Someone had come. Someone had helped. I squinted at image, trying to discern each of the combatants. Someone was missing. Someone who came later...

Typhon stepped into the Hudson River, the water not even coming up to his knees.

A conch horn blew. Not my favorite instrument, but now it was music to my ears.

The Hudson River erupted around Typhon, churning out massive waves. Poseidon burst out of the water on his chariot, his aura glowing a brilliant blue. He swung his trident, ordering the water to form into a massive funnel around Typhon.

“No, NO!” Kronos yelled in shock and horror. I savored his expression.

“NOW, MY BRETHREN! STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!” Poseidon bellowed, his sea-green eyes gleaming, his raven hair shimmering with water droplets. I looked back at Percy’s own, oh-so-similar features. Seeing Percy’s relieved and proud expression, a suspicion niggled at the back of my mind. He had been hoping for this.

“Annabeth,” I asked slowly, a smirk spreading across my face. “What convinced Poseidon to finally help?”

“Percy climbed onto his father’s throne a few hours before this in the hope that he could talk to his father that way and ask him to help fight Typhon. The Seaweed Brain had started smoking by the time he got down.

I was surprised that Poseidon hadn’t instinctively incinerated Percy the instant his butt touched the seat. If Thalia had tried that trick, I doubted that Zeus would have shown the same restraint.

Percy had been partially responsible for even our victory over Typhon. Of course he’d helped out by doing something that could easily have gotten him killed, and then argued with a god, an act that could ALSO have gotten him killed if his father had been touchier. He was just as suicidally brave as Jason had been, for daring to argue with Zeus.

Poseidon’s army burst out of the water, surrounding Typhon. Leading the charge was a large Cyclops that looked vaguely familiar. “Tyson!” Percy yelled. I blinked. Percy’s younger brother? He was about five times taller than he normally was and covered in battle armor. I may normally have hated Cyclopes, but I was glad to see Tyson and his brethren.

The Cyclopes ensnared Typhon with the long black chains they wielded. He roared and struggled, but eventually he fell. Poseidon threw his trident, impaling him in the throat. Ichor spewed from his neck, a geyser of gold.

All us gods struck at Typhon while he was down. This had been the first real opening we’d had. We had doubted that we’d get another. I grinned like a loon as I stared at Artemis. She shot him in the eye with a dozen silver arrows, blinding him. I was just happy to get a good view of my sister again.

Meg let out a loud guffaw. I followed her gaze to where she was looking. I began laughing too. I’d forgotten that I’d managed to set Typhon’s loincloth on fire.

Finally, Poseidon opened up a portal to Tartarus, sending Typhon down into the depths of the abyss.

“BAH!” Kronos screamed. He slashed his sword through the smoke, dismissing the image.

“They’re on their way,” Percy taunted. “You’ve lost.”

“I haven’t even started,” Kronos replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He ran at Percy. Grover threw himself into his path in an effort to protect Percy, but Kronos simply tossed him to the side. Grover was a GREAT protector. I silently promised myself to give him something nice when all this was over, if I became a god again.

Kronos and Percy continued dueling. Less than a minute in, and Kronos disarmed Percy, sending Riptide clattering across the floor and into one of the fissures of the floor.

I knew that Riptide would reappear in Percy’s pocket in a minute or so. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he HAD a minute. Not for the first time, I wondered how Percy had survived this.

“STOP!” past!Annabeth yelled again. I hoped that she had a better plan this time. I certainly had no ideas on what those three could’ve done to even survive the next few minutes, much less defeat Kronos.

Wait... those three defeat Kronos? That didn’t sound quite right. Someone else had intervened.

Kronos whirled around, slashing at Annabeth with his sword. Annabeth caught the strike on her dagger hilt. I whistled in admiration. That was a TRICKY move to pull off.

She stepped closer to the Titan, blades locked together. “Luke. I understand now. You have to trust me.” She said through gritted teeth.

Was she really relying on Luke breaking free from Kronos’s control? That seemed like a shaky proposition. Even if he did, what if he decided not to help them? He’d tried to kill them before.

Kronos roared back at her. “Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn away as I assume my true form!” I thought I detected an undercurrent of fear in his voice. And his expression... he was lying.

HE WAS LYING

Annabeth’s plan might work!

Kronos pushed back on their locked blades. Inch by inch, his blade came closer to Annabeth’s neck.

“Your mother,” Annabeth grunted, straining to hold him back. “She saw your fate.”

“Service to Kronos! This is my fate.”

I caught the change immediately. This is MY fate. This wasn’t Kronos talking, not entirely. Luke was there! She was reaching him!

“No!” Annabeth’s past self cried, tears filling her eyes. I heard a quiet sob from beside me. I looked at our Annabeth. Tear tracks stained her cheeks as she stared at the scene, not daring to miss a moment. I wanted to comfort her, but I had a feeling that this scene would have to finish first.

past!Annabeth continued talking to Luke, trying to draw him out. “That’s not the end, Luke. The prophecy: she saw what you would do. It applies to you!”

What was she talking about? I turned the Great Prophecy over in my head.

A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach sixteen against all odds

And see the world in endless sleep

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap

A single choice shall end his days

Olympus to preserve or raze

I nearly smacked myself over the head. The prophecy didn’t SAY that the half-blood of the eldest gods was the hero! It could be anyone! Though Annabeth seemed convinced it was Luke.

I frowned. it definitely LOOKED like Luke had chosen to raze Olympus. Yet it still stood.

Then again, it said that ‘a single choice shall end his days’. Perhaps his choice would come just before he was set to die?

And a third question... what was the cursed blade?

“I will crush you, child!” Kronos roared.

“You won’t,” Annabeth replied, resolving sounding through her voice. “You promised. You’re holding back Kronos even now.”

Promised what? I glanced at our Annabeth again. She barely seemed to be stopping herself from sinking to the floor. I resolved to ask her later, delicately. I had a feeling that she would NEED to talk about all this, even if she didn’t WANT to.

“LIES!” Kronos screamed, pushing her harder. Annabeth lost her balance. Seizing the opening, Kronos struck her across the face, sending her skidding backwards. Images of Piper being struck by Incinatus’s hoof flooded my mind. I rushed over to past!Annabeth, checking her for breathing. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it, and then felt very silly. Annabeth had obviously survived, because she was in here with us. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself quite believe that.

Kronos loomed over Annabeth, sword raised. As blood trickled out of her mouth, she found the strength to croak, “Family, Luke. You promised.”

Kronos staggered, staring at the knife Annabeth was holding, then at the blood dripping from her face. “Promise,” he murmured. It wasn’t Kronos’s voice.

He started gasping for air, as if he had just surfaced from a long stint underwater. “Annabeth...” Luke continued, stumbling forwards, as if he didn’t quite have control over his own limbs. “You’re bleeding...”

“My knife,” Annabeth attempted to raise her dagger, though I wasn’t sure why. She was in no shape to take on the Titan. The knife clattered out of her hand and onto the floor. She looked over at Percy imploringly. “Percy, please...”

Per y rushed forwards, picking up the knife as he went. He knocked Luke’s sword out his hands. He barely seemed to notice, much less care. He stepped closer to Annabeth, but Percy intervened.

“Don’t touch her.”

Kronos’s voice growled. “Jackson...” Then he gasped, and his voice turned back to Luke’s. “He’s changing. Help. He’s... he’s almost ready. He won’t need my body anymore. Please-”

“NO!” Kronos bellowed. He looked around for his sword, spotting it in the hearth. Percy tried to stop him, but Kronos knocked him roughly to the side, causing his head to clang against Athena’s throne. I winced. He’d probably have a concussion after that, and with both him AND Annabeth in such bad shape, I didn’t know how they could possibly defeat him, unless Grover pulled off a miracle.

“The knife, Percy,” Annabeth muttered, barely clinging to consciousness. “Hero... cursed blade...”

Then it clicked. Luke was the hero. The cursed blade was Annabeth’s knife, though I didn’t know HOW it was cursed. And as for the choice...

Suddenly I heard a scream of pain. Looking at Kronos, I saw that he had attempted to pull his sword from the hearth. I say ‘attempted’ because somehow the barely-lit flame in the hearth had started burning vigorously, heating up the sword and the coals until they glowed red. Judging by his burnt and blistered hands, he had foolishly attempted to pick it up.

An image of Hestia flickered in the ashes, frowning at Kronos disapprovingly. I grinned. Just because Hestia wasn’t a fighter, didn’t mean she couldn’t help out.

Luke turned away from the hearth and collapsed to floor. “Please, Percy...” he begged.

Percy struggled to his feet, still carrying Annabeth’s knife. He advanced towards Luke, killing intent filling his eyes.

Luke read his expression. “You can’t... can’t do it yourself. He’ll break my control. He’ll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can... can keep him controlled.

Luke glowed, similarly to how I tended to whenever I was getting emotional. There wasn’t much time. Kronos would assume his divine form soon. Whatever decision Percy made, he’d have to make it quickly.

Percy raised the knife, ignoring Luke’s words. Then he glanced over at Annabeth, realization stealing over his face.

“Please,” Luke groaned. “No time.”

Percy hesitated, then turned the knife around, presenting the hilt to Luke. He took it carefully.

Grover yelped. “Percy? Are you... um...”

I filled in the rest myself. Are you really listening to this guy? If he betrays you again, the world’s doomed.

Luke unstrapped the armor on his side, exposing his left armpit.

His hand shaking as he did his best to maintain control, Luke stabbed himself. He howled in pain, his eyes glowing, his skin shining brighter and brighter. For a heartbeat I thought it was too late. Then the light died down. Luke remained on the floor, dying, but fully himself.

A loud sob echoed from behind me. Our Annabeth furiously wiped her tears, but they just kept pouring down. I gingerly put my arm around her, wanting to offer some degree of comfort, but unsure how she’d take the gesture. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, continuing to watch Luke with bloodshot, puffy eyes. These were his last moments. As painful as they were, I could understand why she didn’t want to miss any of them.

Luke’s eyes cracked open, revealing a brilliant blue. For an instant I was catapulted back to Caligula’s ships, seeing another blond-haired, blue eyed young man dying in front of me.

“Good... blade,” he croaked.

Luke stared at Annabeth. “You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew...

“Shh. You were a hero at the end, Luke. You’ll go to Elysium.”

He did. Normally he probably wouldn’t have made it that far - heroic last deeds are great and all, but they DO judge the rest of the person’s life - but Hermes insisted, and Hades was in a good enough mood to agree to his request.

Hermes... something niggled at me. A lump of guilt swelled in my chest, though I didn’t know why. There was something I’d overlooked, something I’d ignored. I couldn’t quite place it though. No matter. If it made me feel this bad, then it would almost certainly come up later in this flashback.

Luke shook his head at Annabeth. “Think... rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest.”

He wasn’t being greedy. He wanted to prove that he was a good person and right the mistakes of his past. I could empathize with that.

Annabeth sniffled. “You always pushed yourself too hard.”

“Did you... did you love me?”

“There was a time I thought... well I thought...”

She looked around, as if realizing that she was still here, still alive. “You were like a brother to me, Luke,” she said softly. “But I didn’t love you.”

He nodded, looking unsurprised, then winced in pain.

“We can get ambrosia,” Grover chimed in. “We can-”

I knew the truth, as did Luke. “Grover. You’re the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There’s no healing...”

He coughed again. I could sense his life coming to a close. He only had a couple minutes left.

He gripped Percy’s sleeve, desperate. “Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don’t let it... don’t let it happen again.”

Percy looked down at Luke, sad, but resolved. “I won’t. I promise.”

I promise.

Another promise made to a dying man, a plea to the living to try and make the world a better place, to continue the work that they could not. This was why Percy had made his wish - no, his demands. He was trying to fulfill Luke’s dying wish, to keep his promise. Luke and Jason... they may have been different in many ways, but both of them had attempted to change how demigods and gods acted for the better. Both had passed the torch on to someone else to complete what they had started. Percy had fulfilled his promise to the best of his ability. I would have to fulfill mine.

Luke nodded. His face went slack. He died quietly, the air punctuated with quiet sobs.

Minutes later, all of us Olympians came bursting into the throne room, ready for a fight. Instead we found three grieving teenagers and one dead demigod, sprawled out on the ground.

Poseidon was the first to speak. “Percy... What... what is this?”

Percy stood up, turning to face all the gods. “We need a shroud,” he declared, his voice cracking. “A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

I remembered how I had felt the first time bursting into the room. I’d been afraid it was too late, and I had almost imagined that I could feel myself weakening. Then we had actually arrived. I watched myself take in the scene, relief breaking across my godly self’s face. I didn’t know what had happened, and frankly, at that moment, I didn’t care. The conflict was over, the threat dealt with. It was in the past now, so there was no need to worry about it.

Others were more affected. As the Three Fates gathered up Luke’s body, summoning a shroud to cover him in, Hermes stepped forwards. “Wait,” he called. I heard George and Martha quietly murmuring, “Luke, poor Luke.”

Hermes slowly approached his fallen son, the hero who had made many, many bad choices, but who had chosen to save Olympus, to save his family, in the end. I was under no illusion that he cared for us gods, but the way he and Annabeth had looked at each other... they had chosen to be family. Almost killing her had been the final straw. As much as Luke hated us gods, his love for Annabeth, his desire to protect her, had overridden even Kronos’s control. As a god, when I’d first found out about Luke siding with Kronos and recruiting demigods to his cause, I had dismissed them as simply being bad people. Now I could see more nuance. There were reasons behind the rebellion, reasons I had refused to acknowledge for fear of upsetting my worldview. Now I was more open to listening. I also wished to uphold the promise Percy had made. This would NOT happen again.

Hermes knelt by Luke’s side, gently unwrapping his face and kissing his forehead, murmuring a final blessing to his beloved fallen son.

“Farewell,” he whispered. He stepped back, allowing the Three Fates to take Luke’s body to its final resting place.

past!Annabeth’s knees finally gave out, the stress, exhaustion, and pain of the day catching up with her. Percy caught her before she could hit the ground. Unfortunately, he’d grabbed her by her broken arm, causing her to scream in pain.

“Oh gods,” he said, his eyes wide. “Annabeth, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she replied. Then she passed out. It reminded me of how I had passed out after the prophecy had been extracted from Meg back in Indiana. She could afford to pass out now, so her body had promptly done so.

“She needs help!” Percy cried, panicked.

“I got this,” I heard a familiar (and oh-so-handsome-sounding) voice replied. I watched my godly self step forwards, smiling brilliantly.

Ah, right - I’d forgotten that I had helped. I tensed. Last time I had remembered helping, I had forgotten what a jerk, what an utterly STUPID asshole I had been. I expected more of the same.

I was pleasantly surprised. “God of medicine, at your service.” My godly self passed his hand over Annabeth’s face, instantly healing both her smaller injuries, such as cuts and bruises, and her larger ones, such as the broken arm. Annabeth adjusted in her sleep, looking far more comfortable.

My past self grinned. “She’ll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory. ‘Apollo and his friends save Olympus’. Good eh?”

I couldn’t help it. I snorted. Beside me, Meg started giggling.

“Thanks, Apollo,” Percy replied, clearly bemused. “I’ll, um, let you handle the poetry.”

At that, our quiet chortling grew into full-blown laughter. Even our Annabeth joined in the laughter, her eyes still watering with grief at what she had relived. It was just SUCH a mood whiplash, my future self cheerfully healing Annabeth, pretending that he had largely been responsible for saving Olympus, and declaring that he would write a victory poem. It was so silly, so far removed from the somber atmosphere of the room. It was exactly what we had needed after witnessing Kronos’s defeat and the deaths of Ethan and Luke.

For the first time in a while, I saw some value in the silly arrogant facade I had displayed to the world. Perhaps I didn’t need to throw away that side of myself entirely in order to be a good person and keep my promises to my fallen friends. Lightening spirits helps people cope with even the most miserable tragedies. I thought back to how Leo coped with stress by acting sillier than usual and cracking jokes, breaking people out of their misery and redirecting them from their worries. He had had the right idea.

But there was time for humor, and there was time for serious talk. Now, while the gods were milling about and Percy was looking after the unconscious past!Annabeth, was the best time to finally talk with her.

I looked at her carefully, trying to find the best way to broach the subject of what we had just witnessed. I didn’t wish to upset her, both because she’d been through enough, and because she could easily drop-kick me into next week if she so chose. There’s a reason why I referred to her as “the blond scary one.”

Turns out I didn’t need to. Perhaps Annabeth had sensed my questions, or simply needed to get things off her chest, because she started explaining.

“When I was seven, I ran away from home. My stepmother never liked me that much, and she never believed me about spiders crawling into my bed at night. I had only been on the run for a few days when I ran across Luke and Thalia.” She smiled fondly at the memory, chuckling. “I’d run across lots of monsters, but had managed to evade them. When I heard people moving around in the warehouse I was hiding in, I thought they were monsters. I hid until they got close and then leaped out, trying to bang whatever creature it was with the hammer I had found. I nearly took Luke’s head off. They said they were monster hunters. Luke gave me that dagger, saying that I could be a part of his and Thalia’s family, that they wouldn’t fail me like our families had failed us. That’s what cursed the knife. Luke broke that promise.”

I swallowed thickly, keenly aware of all the gods - myself and my brethren - milling about the room. We had failed Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. We had failed our children as a whole. Annabeth didn’t even sound upset or judgmental. It was simply a statement of fact.

I steeled my resolve. I had to know.

“Why did Luke turn against the gods? Why did so many join him? Tell me how we failed. Tell me what we refused to see. Please.”

Annabeth was quiet for a moment, searching for words. Hesitantly she said, “I’m not sure of all the details on how and why Luke turned, and all the demigods had their own reasons. But they boiled down to this, as far as I know:

Luke blamed Hermes for not trying to help cure his mom’s insanity, for not helping to protect and comfort her when she flew into her insane fits. In short, for never BEING there. I’m not sure what caused him to shift his view of the gods from being negligent, to being flat-out evil. Maybe it was just seeing all of his friends and family at Camp being ignored. Luke was at Camp Half-Blood for five YEARS before he turned, Apollo, and he was camp counselor of the largest cabin for most of that. So many kids arrived who never got claimed. They arrived, hoping to have a parent, to at least be ACKNOWLEDGED. But most of them didn’t get that. Their divine parents didn’t CARE enough about them to even acknowledge their existence. That’s why so many half-bloods wanted to go on quests, even though it was dangerous. It wasn’t for ‘glory’ - well, not for most of them, at least. It was in the hope of finally having their divine parent acknowledge them and say they’re proud of them. The children of minor gods had it even worse. Very few of their parents even bothered to claim them, since they’d have to stay in the Hermes cabin anyway. For them, it wasn’t only THEMSELVES who were ignored, but their parents too. That’s why so many minor gods and demigods rebelled - they thought it was the only way to stop being ignored, to be treated like they MATTER, even if only as an enemy.”

So that was it. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. I’d been told this before, I KNEW this. It was part of why I was always prompt on claiming my kids (so long as I remembered that I’d had them), why I rarely gave them quests that were too terribly dangerous, and why I showed them I was there and that I cared about them, even if just by visiting in their dreams.

But it wasn’t enough. I had taken care of my own children, but had turned my eyes from all the other demigods’ plights. It took the demigods standing up for themselves and demanding better in order for change to be enacted.

I glanced over at Meg, who suddenly found her shoes utterly fascinating. I remembered her questions about her mother, asking why Demeter had never shown up, had never tried to help her or father. At the time I was only thinking of her case. But she wasn’t the only demigod who had lost their mortal parent, or had run away from them, had discovered that they had a godly parent, and yet that parent didn’t even care enough to claim them as their offspring. I thought back to when I had first met the small garbage waif, thinking that she might be a feral demigod, with no training, no parents, no friends, no family, no support network to speak of. At the time I pondered the idea in a detached kind of way. Now it seemed utterly horrifying. Had I really been so callous, not seeing how messed up it was that a twelve-year-old had no parents and no support, even while monsters hunted her due to who one of her parents was?

How many other ways had I closed my eyes to the world?

“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I should have pushed for all the demigods’ parents to claim them sooner. I should have made sure that cabins were available for all the children of the gods, not just us Olympians. I should have taken a more proactive role in guiding all demigods to safety, instead of just concentrating on my own children. I know this isn’t worth much now, since Percy already took care of it pretty well, but I’ll try to hold the other gods to their promise, along with keeping it myself, of course. There will be no more Ethans or Lukes.”

Annabeth looked up at me and gave a small nod.

Meg broke the silence. “What promise?”

Ah yes. Meg wouldn’t know, would she? “Well you see-”

The world blurred around us, fast-forwarding. When it resolved, we were still in the throne room, but all the gods were sitting down, thrones fully repaired.

“It seems that you’ll get to see for yourself,” I told my young protector.

past!Annabeth was back to full health. She strode over to where Percy was standing. She leaned in close so she could whisper to him. Being the busybody I was, scooted over towards them so i could overhear.”Miss much?” she whispered into his ear.

“Nobody’s planning to kill us, so far,” he whispered back.

Why would he think we might plan to kill them? Why would we kill heroes who had helped save... oh. Right.

Several years ago, after sis was kidnapped and then rescued, we had the winter solstice summit. We debated killing Percy and Thalia to prevent the Great Prophecy from coming true. None of us actually voted FOR killing them thankfully, but it was still a serious consideration. I voted against killing them, but thought that Artemis was freaking out a bit too much when she yelled at the council for considering killing the demigods and saying that she would reward them. Now I saw why she reacted that way.

My eyes wandered over to my sister, sitting majesticly in her silver throne. I held back a sob. I’d seen her earlier when the gods first came bursting in, but had focused on the issues at hand. Now though I kept on staring at her. My wonderful, brilliant sister - she’d seen what I had refused to, understood what I had only started learning as a mortal. She understood the value in mortals, understood them AS PEOPLE, and not only as subjects.

As Zeus droned on, Meg approached me. She didn’t say anything, but her expression looked sad, and kind of nervous. Once she noticed me watching her, she turned her gaze towards the thrones, searching. It finally rested on a throne made of apple-tree branches, and the goddess in it. She looked over at me. I answered her unspoken question.

“That’s your mother, Demeter.”

She stared at her mother quietly while Zeus declared the rewards that the various mortals and monsters would receive for their service in the Second Titan War.

After a couple minutes, she spoke, though I wasn’t sure whether it was intentional. She murmured to herself, “Mom... why didn’t you come for me? Dad loved you so much, but you didn’t help him. You didn’t help me. Everyone says you love me, but if you love me so much, why won’t you see me?”

Seeing her so downcast, my heart clenched. I wanted to give her some measure of comfort, so I did the only thing I could think of. Slowly, giving her plenty of room and time to pull away if she wished to, I wrapped her in a hug. She stiffened for a moment then relaxed. I thought I felt a small droplet of water on my side, where Meg was pressing her head. I didn’t comment, only pressing her more tightly to me. We stayed like that for several minutes, me offering what small amount of comfort I could.

At last she pulled away, surreptitiously wiping her face. I pretended not to notice, only giving her a small smile.

“PERCY JACKSON!” Poseidon bellowed. All of us jumped at that, directing our attention back to the Olympian Council.

Percy walked over to his father, kneeling at his feet.

“Rise, my son,” Poseidon declared. Looking around at the assembled council, he asked, “A great hero must be rewarded. Is there anyone who would deny that my son is deserving?”

Of course there were no dissenters.

“The council agrees,” Zeus confirmed. “Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods.”

“Any gift?” he asked.

At the time when this had first happened, I didn’t scrutinize his expression closely. I thought I knew what he was going to ask for, so why bother?

This time I looked more closely. He seemed slightly confused, not understanding what was going on.

Zeus, naturally, made the same assumption that the rest of us did. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

Percy just stared at him, uncomprehending. "Um . . . a god?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."

Ares seemed rather happy at that. "Hmm," he mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea."

I snorted. Of COURSE that was the first thing he’d think of. Though I thought he was being overly optimistic. Percy bested him as a child with only a few weeks training. He was more likely to get smashed than Percy.

"I approve as well," Athena added. I noticed that she was looking at Annabeth while she spoke, not Percy. I snorted. I had a distinct feeling that her agreement had less to do with her feeling that Percy was deserving, and more from her wanting to keep him away from her daughter. Well THAT had been successful.

Our Annabeth walked towards Percy, taking in his expression. He glanced back at past!Annabeth. Only then did I notice how devastated she looked. I could read that expression well enough, the expression of knowing you were about to lose someone close to you. I had worn it many times.

She’d really thought there was a chance she would lose him, that he would become a god and leave her forever. Power, immortality, eternal youth - who could deny an offer like that?

But I understood now. I still wanted to become a god, don’t get me wrong. But it was a RESPONSIBILITY now, rather than simply wishing to rid myself of the discomforts and terrors of mortality. I understood why Percy had made his choice.

I smirked slightly, knowing what was coming. This would be EPIC.

Percy looked Zeus right in the eyes. “No.”

Everyone fell silent, unable to believe what they were hearing. At last Zeus spoke, a dangerous edge to his voice. "No? You are . . . turning down our generous gift?"

I flinched at his tone. It usually meant pain for whoever it was directed at. But Percy didn’t seem overly intimidated.

"I'm honored and everything," he said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year. I do want a gift, though. Do you promise to grant my wish?"

Zeus pondered for a moment. I don’t know what he THOUGHT Percy was going to ask for, but he certainly didn’t anticipate the truth. "If it is within our power," he replied.

"It is," Percy said. "And it's not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx."

I was still AMAZED that Zeus agreed to Percy’s wish BEFORE finding out what it was.

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?" He sounded indignant. I laughed at that. Like MOST of us trusted each other. I could reasonably count on Hestia, Artemis, and Hermes when it counted. The rest of the Olympians? Not so much.

"Someone once told me," Percy said, looking at Hades, "you should always get a solemn oath."

“Guilty,” he replied, shrugging. I had a feeling that there was a story behind that one. Maybe I’d get that later, but for now I focused on the scene in front of me.

"Very well!" Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your reasonable request as long as it is within our power."

At least he put in that stipulation. Though I had to wonder who decided what was reasonable.

Thunder boomed, sealing the oath.

Percy finally asked for his reward, now that it was guaranteed that the council would have to grant it, so long as it was not unreasonable. "From now on, I want to you properly recognize the children of the gods," he said. "All the children . . . of all the gods."

All the Olympians shifted uncomfortably at that, including my own godly self. We didn’t like being confronted with how much we had messed up, and it looked like Percy was doing just that.

"Percy," Poseidon asked, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents," Percy replied. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason."

Zeus grew angry, his nostrils flaring. I was still amazed Percy got through this without some sort of punishment for his insolence. "You dare accuse—"

Percy cut him off. I had thought that Jason defending me to Father was the most insane defiance a demigod had shown to Father in the past several millennia, but rewatching this, I was quickly reassessing that opinion. "No more undetermined children. I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive."

"Now, wait just a moment," my godly self interjected. I felt a brief stab of shame. I had objected to Percy telling us what to do. The fact that he was RIGHT only made things worse. Even then, I’d known that Percy’s request was a good one. I just didn’t want to acknowledge how BADLY we’d messed up for the past several thousand years, and that one of our children knew better than we did, and was braver than we were. Than I was. Privately I agreed with him, but I would never have had the courage to do what Percy was doing.

Percy ignored my past self. A wise decision on his part. "And the minor gods," he said. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe-—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades—"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hades bellowed. Honestly, he was SUCH a drama queen. Wouldn’t even wait for Percy to finish his sentence.

"No, my lord," he said hurriedly. "But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that. No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

It was a good request, one that should never have had to be made, and one which we STILL didn’t entirely follow through on. Calypso was never pardoned. None of us had pushed for it. It was on the bottom of the agenda, since her staying on her island was unlikely to cause us problems. I had a feeling that Artemis would have pushed for her release, but by the time we’d dealt with everything else Percy had asked for, Zeus was getting spooked by Gaea stirring, and Artemis didn’t want to upset him more than she had to. Watching over her Hunters was a higher priority than pushing for Calypso’s freedom.

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

"Percy," Poseidon warned, "you ask much. You presume much."

If he thought THAT would deter Percy, he CLEARLY hadn’t spent enough time watching his son.

"I hold you to your oath," he said. "All of you."

The world suddenly distorted. For a moment I thought we were going to be pushed forwards in time again. Then the world resolved itself. I looked around, puzzled. Nothing appeared to have changed... and then I came face-to-face with Percy. Not younger Percy, OUR Percy. I calmly took stock of the situation and greeted him with a calm nod. Anyone who says that I yelled and jumped a foot in the air is CLEARLY lying and is attempting to slander my good name.

“Wha-?” He looked around, confused. “What is- ANNABETH?” He yelled, rushing towards her. “PERCY!” she cried. He gave her a fierce hug, separating from her a few moments later.

“This is a flashback, isn’t it?” He asked her. “When I walked in, I saw you, Apollo, and Meg sitting next to each other. When I called your name and you didn’t respond, I panicked and ran over to check on you. I must’ve gotten sucked in when I touched you.”

She nodded, “Yes, it is. It started when... when we faced down Kronos in the throne room.” Her voice cracked. Percy looked at her, understanding spreading across his face. “Annabeth...”

Suddenly all of us were jerked towards the front of the throne room. It soon became apparent why. Annabeth, Percy, and all the other mortals were filing out of the throne room. We were forced to keep within a certain radius of the memory-holder it seemed. We followed them out of the palace.

Hermes stood in a sideyard, a melancholy expression on his face as he examined an iris message. past!Percy looked over at past!Annabeth. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

A wave of disappointment washed over me. I’d wanted to see more of my little brother, but it seemed that we would be forced to go the other way.

past!Annabeth studied his expression. "You sure?" she studied his face. "Yeah, you're sure."

As Annabeth walked off, I followed her, sighing. Then I was jerked to a stop by an invisible leash. Confused, I looked back towards my brother and past!Percy. They had stayed put, along with Meg and the present Percy and Annabeth.

Ah. When Percy entered the memory, control must have transferred over to him. I walked back over to Percy and Hermes, curious about what Percy would talk to him about. ‘Sorry I gave your son the means to commit suicide,’ is always an awkward conversation starter.

For a moment, I didn’t think Hermes had noticed Percy. Then he started talking.

"Amazing," my brother said, turning towards Percy. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist . . . and mortal ignorance."

"Thanks, I guess,” Percy replied, not seeming to know how to feel about that.

"Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."

"It was the right choice."

For him, it HAD been the right choice. He wanted to stay a part of the mortal world, to be with his friends and family... and his girlfriend, of course. As a god, there were so many rules and limits on what you could and could not do with mortals, so many expectations, that it would be difficult for him to be part of his loved ones’ lives the way he wanted to be, to BE there for them.

But it didn’t have to be. The only rules that prevented us from mingling with mortals, becoming part of their world, becoming close friends instead of simply having short affairs with mortals, were expectations from other gods, and rules handed down by Zeus. He didn’t like it when we became too close to mortals, ESPECIALLY if we treated them like equals. I always suspected that he didn’t want mortals to begin seeing us as equals, and by extension, seeing himself as being just a person, rather than a divine ruler who must be unquestioningly obeyed. Now I thought there was an additional angle. Keeping us from becoming too close to mortals, from becoming great friends with them, also limited our support networks to other gods, keeping it restricted mostly to our family. Zeus was able to keep a closer eye on us that way, than if we all had our own circles of mortal friends.

Maybe I was getting conspiratorial. Still, anything that increased Zeus’s level of control over us and his power overall had to be considered.

My brother looked over at Percy questioningly, but not unbelievingly. I was getting the feeling that he actually understood what Percy was talking about. I should have paid more attention to my little brother in recent decades. It seemed like he had started figuring things out that I had only begun to learn after being sent down as a mortal. "Look at them. They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."

"How bad is the city?"

Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I'll be helping."

I had always been amazed at mortals’ ability to carry on with daily activities even something catastrophic had occurred, or was about to happen. As I lived as a mortal, however, I was beginning to understand. Those things were still worrying, but most mortals couldn’t afford to simply run off and mope and wail about how horrible and terrifying everything was. So instead they coped as best they could, continuing to act like normal. It made a weird amount of sense. Daily life carried on regardless.

Hermes WAS helpful in helping mortals make sense of the divine sorts of catastrophies though.

“You?” Percy asked. I suppose no one had informed him of Hermes role in this sort of thing.

"I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."

I was startled by the bitterness in his voice. I hadn’t really paid much attention to how Hermes handled this aspect of his duties. Now I wished I had. I wanted to understand why he sounded like this. I had a sinking feeling that I had let down another brother, my most beloved little brother.

Percy had more to say. "I owe you an apology."

An apology? I didn’t even know that Hermes and Percy had talked before.

Hermes seemed to know what Percy was talking about, but didn’t trust his apology. He gave Percy a cautious look. "And why is that?"

"I thought you were a bad father. I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

Knew his future? How did he...?

Then I remembered. A woman Hermes had a fling with had attempted to become the Oracle. I had been happy that someone else had attempted it, hoping to finally have a new host. My old Oracle had already been dead for twenty years at that point. I had been disappointed when it did not take properly, but was not overly concerned beyond that.

I should have paid attention. I should have gone to him, comforted him. I knew how much it hurt to have someone you love be broken, be killed.

But I hadn’t.

I’d failed him too.

May would have still gotten glimpses of the future. I surmised that Hermes had put together the pieces based on the pieces of her insane ramblings. He’d known what would befall his beloved child, and had kept the burden to himself. Who would he share it with? Who could he trust that much?

We really were one screwed-up family.

"I did know his future," Hermes said miserably.

I knew that tone of voice, that look on his face. It was the same one I wore whenever I thought of my role in Daphne’s and Hyacinthus’ deaths.

"But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him, could you?"

Hermes stared at the fountain. "No one can tamper with fate, Percy, not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him . . . that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

I knew better than anyone that you can’t change fate, that trying was folly. I’d had to watch horrible things happen to people I cared about. Even if you did somehow succeed, the consequences would be...

Some sort of mental block slammed down. A cold trickle of dread and guilt filled my stomach. There was something there. Something I didn’t want to remember. I knew I should try to break through it, try to break through the barrier, but I couldn’t bring myself to try. If even as a god I had blocked this out, how bad WAS it?

“Apollo?” Meg asked, her, Percy, and Annabeth giving me worried looks. I suddenly became aware of the sweat dripping down my face, of my ragged breathing. I composed myself, giving them a shaky smile. No point in worrying them. Besides, I needed to focus on Hermes. I needed to understand what my little brother had gone through.

"You had to let him find his own path and play his part in saving Olympus."

Hermes sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her in San Francisco . . . well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could do what I could not and save him. When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I should have known better. I was really angry with myself."

I knew that feeling. It was easy to lash out when angry and scared. I had contemplated murdering the Seven when they came to visit me and Artemis on Delos, even though they weren’t at fault for the situation and were actively trying to fix it. Lashing out at others felt better in the moment than accepting that you are powerless to change the situation, to give up hope of someone being able to create a better ending.

"Annabeth did save him. Luke died a hero. He sacrificed himself to kill Kronos." Percy was doing more to try to help Hermes, to support him than I had in the past several decades.

"I appreciate your words, Percy. But Kronos isn't dead. You can't kill a Titan."

"Then—"

"I don't know," Hermes grumbled. "None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the wind. With luck, he's spread so thin that he'll never be able to form a consciousness again, much less a body. But don't mistake him for dead, Percy."

I hoped that he, Gaea, and the Giants stayed gone for a REALLY long time. These kids had already lived through two wars, and were living through a thrid one. Please, let them have a break.

"What about the other Titans?"

"In hiding," Hermes said. "Prometheus sent Zeus a message with a bunch of excuses for supporting Kronos. 'I was just trying to minimize the damage,' blah, blah. He'll keep his head low for a few centuries if he's smart. Krios has fled, and Mount Othrys has crumbled into ruins. Oceanus slipped back into the deep ocean when it was clear Kronos had lost. Meanwhile, my son Luke is dead. He died believing I didn't care about him. I will never forgive myself."

Self-loathing coated his every word.

We were the same, and I had refused to see it. I had thought I was the only one suffering from such guilt and heartbreak, the only one who hated himself for his failures. I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Something broken.

But it wasn’t just me. Hermes was going through the same thing, and I hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t known. I hardly saw him in recent centuries, and when I did, it had barely even occurred to me that Hermes could be going through similar problems.

Both of us his the true depths of our pain, our shame, our guilt. Neither of us opening up to each other, sharing the burden. He at least seemed to be facing his guilt and sadness, rather than just pretending it wasn’t there. I had hidden behind a facade my whole life, trying to fool everyone into thinking I was fine... including myself.

How many of us had hidden our pain from each other, from ourselves?

At least Percy was still trying to help. "A long time ago," he said, "you told me the hardest thing about being a god was not being able to help your children. You also told me that you couldn't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they made it."

I smiled. We really were alike. Both of us had learned that lesson.

"And now you know I'm a hypocrite?"

"No, you were right, Luke loved you. At the end, he realized his fate. I think he realized why you couldn't help him. He remembered what was important."

I wasn’t entirely sure where Percy got that from. As far as I could tell, Luke didn’t mention his father at all. I guess he was trying to make Hermes feel better.

"Too late for him and me."

"You have other children. Honor Luke by recognizing them. All the gods can do that."

That I agreed with. It was his dying wish, his dying plea. To make things better for his siblings, for all the children of the gods.

Hermes's shoulders sagged. "They'll try, Percy. Oh, we'll all try to keep our promise. And maybe for a while things will get better. But we gods have never been good at keeping oaths. You were born because of a broken promise, eh? Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do."

He sounded so defeated. I couldn’t blame him. Sometimes it seemed like things never changed.

Yet I knew that Hermes was wrong. We didn’t always forget. I had never forgotten Daphne or Hyacinthus, forgotten my roles in their deaths. I had never wanted to, despite the pain it caused me. I refused to forget my great loves.

That was it. We immortals were not so inherently different from mortals. We could learn, change, grow. We just rarely saw the need to. We convinced ourselves that we were perfect and infallible, knowing in our hearts that it was untrue, but thinking that we were the only ones who were like that, who were broken. We told ourselves and each other that we couldn’t change, that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Until someone disrupts the status quo.

Someone like Percy Jackson.

Someone like Jason Grace.

Someone like myself.

The demigods had taken their turn. It was time a god tried to change things, to make things better.

"You can change."

Hermes laughed. "After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "I do."

So he’d been doing this for awhile. It wasn’t just me he believed could change, HAD changed. He believed in all the gods’ ability to change. He believed in us more than we believed in ourselves.

I wondered where he got such faith, considering everything he’d been through at the hands of the gods.

Hermes seemed surprised by that. "You think . . . Luke actually loved me? After all that happened?"

"I'm sure of it."

Hermes stared at the fountain. "I'll give you a list of my children. There's a boy in Wisconsin. Two girls in Los Angeles. A few others. Will you see that they get to camp?"

I smiled. It was a long road to make things better, but Hermes had taken the first step. He was willing to try. He wanted to try.

"I promise," Percy said. "And I won't forget."

"Percy Jackson," Hermes said thoughtfully, "you might just teach us a thing or two."

“You already have,” I whispered.

The world blurred again. I blinked, and we were back in the tent at Camp Jupiter. Percy, Annabeth, and Meg had also started stirring, getting up from where they had been sitting.

Percy pulled Annabeth into a hug.

A minute later, they separated. I asked the question that had started burning in my mind during Percy and Hermes conversation. “Percy... why did you believe that gods could change. WE didn’t believe that, so why did you?”

“Because you’re people. Mortal or immortal, god or human, you’re still a person. And people can change, even if you don’t believe you can.”

He paused for a moment, sadness flickering in his expression. “I knew another immortal once. He didn’t think that he could change either.”

Percy let out a laugh. It sounded almost like a choked sob. “He was a Titan. We called him Bob, but you’d know him as Iapetus.”

“Iapetus?” I asked, searching for the name. “Wait... one of Kronos’s brothers. You BEFRIENDED him?!”

“Not at first. First time I met him he’d just broken out of Tartarus. We were in the Underworld when we met. I was badly injured and couldn’t defeat him. So I dragged both of us into the River Lethe. I kept myself dry, but Iapetus’s mind was wiped clean. When we straggled onshore, He asked me who he was. I told him he was my friend Bob. He was nice and friendly. He even noticed I had a wound and healed it. We left him in Hades palace, to do what he wanted with him.” Percy’s voice sounded like Hermes’ now, bitter and self-loathing. “I’d told him we were friends. But I didn’t think about him after that. I never asked how he was doing. Turns out, Hades’ made him a janitor. As far as I know, the only one who looked after him, who cared about him, was Nico.”

Percy drew a shaky breath, steeling himself for the rest of his story. “Nico asked him to help me, if he could. When Annabeth and I fell into Tartarus.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, WHAT?!” I screamed. “I had to have heard you wrong. Did you say you and Annabeth were in TARTARUS?! As in, the prison for evil immortals? The place monsters spawn from? The place where GODS fear to tread? THAT Tartarus?”

“Yep,” Percy sighed, looking very, very tired. “That’s the one.”

“HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!”

“Because of Bob,” he said simply. “I mentioned Bob to Annabeth as we were walking through Tartarus. He heard me say his name, and jumped into Tartarus without a second thought. He wanted to help us, because he thought we were friends.”

“I used him,” Percy continued, his voice taking on a guilty tone. “I said we were friends, and used that to manipulate him into helping us. I even convinced him to kill his own brother, just by asking him if we were friends, and then telling him that he was a good titan, but that Krios was a bad one. I asked him to decide what to do. He killed Krios, so he wouldn’t hurt his friends. So he wouldn’t hurt us.”

Percy’s voice grew lower, shame dripping from every word. “We met up with arai. They told Bob what I did. That I destroyed his memory. That I had stolen his life, left him to scrub floors. I couldn’t deny that. I still tried to say I was his friend. But I knew I was lying. I’d only convinced myself we were friends, just because I needed him. I only cared about him when I could use him to get what I wanted. Just like Hercules. Just like the gods.”

He inhaled a shaky breath, exhaled, and continued. “He left us. He didn’t attack us for tricking him. He just left. I fought off the arai as best I could, but it wasn’t enough. As I was dying, I begged Bob for his forgiveness, and to help Annabeth at least. I didn’t expect him to help. I didn’t deserve it. But I needed to say it at least.”

“And he came back.”

“He remembered the truth, but he still helped us, KNOWING that I had lied. Because he wanted to keep his promise to Nico. He guided us through Tartarus, to a good giant. Damasen. Damasen healed Percy, but was too afraid to try to leave. He thought it was a fool’s errand. Still, he helped us with supplies, gave us shelter for the night, and only asked for stories and company in return.

“He took us all the way to the Doors of Death. He ran into some of his brothers there. They thought he was on their side still. They would have welcomed him with open arms if he had turned us over to them. Instead he bluffed and got us safely past them. We talked afterwards. He said that he had remembered what his brother was talking about, when he talked about Bob’s past. But he wasn’t sure whether he wanted the memory. I told him that he could choose what to keep of Iapetus, and what he wanted to maintain as Bob. That his future was what mattered. He told me that “the future” was a mortal concept, that he wasn’t meant to change, even as he called me his friend. But if he had been the same, then we would never have become friends. Annabeth and I would have died already.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. I sensed that whatever came next would be especially painful. He opened them and continued the story. “We had to ascend the elevator through the Doors of Death. In order to do that, someone had to press the button for the elevator down for twelve minutes, all while fighting off Tartarus and his forces.”

“Wait...” I interjected, hoping that he misspoke, even as the sinking feeling in my gut said that he hadn’t. “You meant Tartarus’s forces, right?”

Percy let out a wild, hopeless laugh. “Nope. Tartarus made himself a physical body and tried to kill us personally.”

WHAT.

“HOW ARE YOU STILL HERE,” I screamed. I thought being stranded in Tartarus was bad, but facing down Tartarus himself while WITHIN Tartarus? That was a new level of suck.

He gave me that bitter, self-loathing look again. “Because of Bob and Damasen. Oh, and a skeleton kitten Bob found and named Small Bob.”

At this point, I didn’t have the energy to be surprised at them finding a skele-kitten. It was the least weird part of this story.

“I wanted to press down the button to let Annabeth, Bob, Damasen, and Small Bob escape. But he insisted on pressing the button. Those three sacrificed themselves so that we would escape, knowing that they’d be absorbed by Tartarus in the end. He asked me to tell the suns and stars hello.”

Tears shone in Percy’s eyes. “I guess I didn’t know for sure whether immortals could change, back when I told Hermes I believed they could. But I do now. If a Titan like Bob could change, then other immortals can too. Even ones you never thought were capable of it. Ones who thought that THEY weren’t capable of it.”

I stared at him and slowly nodded. If even Titans could change, then we gods had no excuse. And if any of the gods protested that change was impossible, I’d tell them Bob’s story, along with my own.

We would be better.

We had to be.

#trials of apollo #the trials of apollo #lester papadopoulos #percy jackson #annabeth chase #meg mccaffrey #toa #the last olympian #fanfiction #apollo

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