Chapter Text
Percy was not the most brilliant of all demigods. That dubious honor belonged to the offspring of Athena and Apollo. But Percy had long ago decided that she wanted a life full of joy and fulfillment.
What no one knew was that Percy had a secret weapon that helped her pursue her happiness.
Percy was about seven years old when she first saw the threads. They were intangible and glowed in a cheerful green as they swirled around her, tentatively reaching out toward the people around her.
In her dreams, the threads whispered secrets and revealed probabilities, possibilities, and opportunities. They spoke of a chance for love and happiness, well within Percy's reach, as long as she chose the emerald-tinted path.
Even if the chosen road was perilous, she knew deep down that it would eventually lead her to the love and fulfilment her heart yearned for.
So, Percy made her choice, followed the path, and persevered.
She had proven herself time and again when she retrieved the lightning bolt for Zeus, when she held the sky for Lady Artemis, and when she pushed her powers to the limit to clean the stables in the Labyrinth.
Yet, she never revealed how the weight of the sky had barely streaked her hair with grey.
She kept to herself how time itself had slowed down as she battled Ares on the beach, or how she had wrestled Kronos for control of the gold-poisoned threads on the monster ship.
She never mentioned that each time she fell and allowed the water to envelop her, she felt more at home than in her own skin.
How delightfully the earth trembled beneath her feet as Percy brought about the eruption of Mount Saint Helens.
With every action and decision, she was claiming the Great Prophecy for herself, hoping it would be enough to save more of her fellow campers.
She may have been Persis, "of Persia," but she was also Perseus, the destroyer.
Poseidon's daughter with extraordinary power, she was an unexpected element in the Fates' design—a pebble in the immortals' shoes that they couldn't simply discard.
Percy desired to disrupt the Moirae's perfect tapestry, to cut through it, and rearrange it into new patterns.
So Percy was weird. She was petite and blunt. She had dyslexia, ADHD and quite a lot of anxiety buried under a lackadaisical attitude.
She had her threads and dreams, and she was content because she also had knowledge. She wasn't all-knowing, mind you, but sometimes she couldn't help but look, watch, see, and just know.
She knew that Zeus was a womaniser and a creep, who would have bedded her without any hesitation had he not been wary of Poseidon and afraid of Percy's potential.
Which, gross.
And it still astonished Percy that some deities tolerated her, if not outright liked her.
She doubted her cousin Hermes was in the habit of visiting other demigods to complain about his job or steal Sally's cookies (understandably, her mother's cooking was divine).
Well, and to bemoan Luke's fate, they tried not to dwell on it too much, considering that Percy might have to kill him in the future to preserve (or raze?) the entire Olympus.
Yikes.
Hermes delivered some excellent cookbooks and the latest gossip to Persis, while Percy set up a rat farm in her room to feed George whenever her tiresome cousin decided to visit.
("The best of all your cousins, Perce. Who else would you watch 'The Little Mermaid' with?")
Then there was aunt Hestia, who didn't have a single mean bone in her body. Hestia, with her quiet smiles and soft eyes.
Persis loved joining her as the goddess minded the Camp's fire and cooed every time Percy shared some of her adventures and little secrets with her. It was nice, as if they were a real family, laughing at their relatives' shenanigans.
The there was uncle Hades, in all his snarky magnanimous glory.
Percy could understand why Lady Persephone had fallen in love with Hades. He was considerate, even if he usually hid it behind an aloof demeanour.
And his sense of humour was so morbid it cracked Persis up every time she had the chance to meet him.
He was one of the gods to whom Percy always sent her prayers and offerings, accompanied by sassy quotes and colourful postcards from modern art museums for Lady Persephone.
He was a gruffy, scolding, but very appreciated part of her unexpected divine family, right alongside Hestia, Hermes, and the whole undersea crew.
And speaking of seas and oceans…
Oh, her father. How she wished she could despise him, but couldn't.
Not when she knew he supported them long after Sally married Smelly Gabe.
Not when the visions showed her how his threats and curses made that mortal swine unable to lay a hand on her mother or her.
Not when Poseidon defended her against Zeus' wraith, claimed her, clumsily supported her all these last years, gave her first Tyson, and then a whole second family.
Stepmother Amphitrite, with her regal beauty, sharp tongue and unshakeable confidence.
The first time Percy met Amphitrite, she thought the queen of seas would murder her, not smother her in hugs or berate Poseidon for "keeping her away from the family, really, Sei, you possessive barnacle" and "call me mother, dear, you are family, after all."
Her brother Triton, with his overbearing tendencies and overprotectiveness, because she was "a girl and a mortal one. Might as well look after you so that Olympians don't dare to harm a hair on your flighty head."
The threads around him whispered of sorrow and memories, of Pallas and Athena, and that's not a story Percy wanted him to dwell on, so she rolled her eyes and hugged her grumbling brother as tightly as she could.
Her sister Rhode, with her pretty dark hair and deep-seated yearning for a long-since lost husband. She sang to Percy of Ancient lands, of kings, and queens. As she braided the mortal's unruly hair, she whispered to her about their sister Kymopoleia, whom they longed to find but couldn't for centuries.
Sister Kym, the wild, unruly stormbringer in her own right.
As Percy dreamed of her, she thought she would like her very much. And those she let into her heart the demigoddess was too greedy to free out of her tender clutches.
"The sea never relinquishes what it claims as its own," Amphitrite smirked smugly when Percy mentioned it. "You are your father's daughter, my dear child. You may have inherited his finer qualities, but even the calmest waters can sometimes conceal the darkest currents beneath the peaceful surface."
"Too true," thought Percy the first time she saw Apollo and his Maserati chariot. The sun god was known to be as possessive as the seas and as turbulent as the oceans: playful on the surfac, yet still reeking of blinding might, with danger lurking in the corner of his mouth.
The first time the campers met Apollo on a quest, with his teasing smiles and sharp blue eyes streaked with gold, Thalia blushed and the then fourteen-year-old Percy blanched.
As the persistent headache caused by the surge in dreams subsided, Percy found it easier to breathe. It was as if the soothing presence of the god of prophecies, truth, knowledge, and healing enveloped her. For the first time in her life, Percy felt relaxed in the presence of a deity.
She didn't remember what she had said back then. And then their eyes met.
And what eyes the sun god had! So many emotions swirled within them, indecipherable, tender yet angry, and deeply sorrowful.
He smiled, and in that smile, Percy sensed an echo of the contentment promised at the end of the journey.
For better or for worse, they shared an intangible connection, a profound understanding that transcended ordinary comprehension.
And she smiled in return.
Apollo was a being full of contradictions.
He was an annoying yet loving sibling, an exuberant parent that doted upon his progeny from afar. He claimed all his children, and the rest of the camp was envious to see Cabin 7 showered with gifts.
He was as generous as he was cruel, that possessive god.
Percy still remembered the warmth turning into scorching heat as they discussed Artemis' capture. She recalled the mocking tenderness of the sun upon her skin as she held up the sky.
As Zeus again failed to smite them on Olympus, she recalled his dismissive attitude. She also remembered his exuberant visage when she tried and failed to avoid accepting his offer to ride in his chariot and shoot arrows from it.
Stupid sunny gods and their perfect beach-boy looks and pearl-white teeth, ugh.
Over the next year and a half, sometimes Percy felt like it was all too much and not enough.
Sometimes they talked, sometimes they did nothing but ride the chariot in comfortable silence. Sometimes the grief in Apollo's eyes looked ready to spill over, and they somehow would find one another and go on a spontaneous ride somewhere across the globe.
Riding in the chariot with Apollo was fun. And the horses were a riot, always spilling some hot tea and generally embarrassing their rider.
As the war progressed, Apollo's mood swings became increasingly intense and erratic. They were giving her whiplash, and she was, after all, the daughter of the most changeable and unpredictable god!
"Planning on ditching me soon, Persis?" He asked once as they were flying yet again.
His smile didn't reach his eyes, and his knuckles looked pale from the tension as if he worried that she would leave him. Which she could, maybe, but didn't want to.
"Nah, I try not to be rude to such gracious hosts, Apollo.” She enjoyed spending time with him.
Okay, so maybe she was a tiny bit infatuated with him, come on!
Thank Amphitrite that dad didn't get involved, though, when he learnt of their little trips. The grumbling, the threats of "smiting that upstart"...
Unlike Rhode, who laughed and claimed that the unions of sun and sea might be running in the family, which… Yeah, Percy didn't want to think about it right now.
What good has ever come of mortals dallying with deities? Still, seeing the resignation on Apollo's face made her stomach churn.
She wanted to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead and just hug him and never let go.
"Apollo, you know that I like your chariot, right? And your company, just, don't go all Billie Ray Cyrus on me."
"But what if you could jump off it? Would you?"
What a question!
"Well, if I felt threatened or panicked, maybe? It'd be easier to hide in my dad's home turf," she considered. "Or maybe I could just slip off".
"Slip off?" The incredulousness in Apollo's voice sounded better than all that doom and gloom.
"Well, yeah, I can be quite a disaster, Mr. God of Knowledge, stop laughing, you!"
This was much better than all his pouting. Not that she didn't like him that way too, but when he was this warm and relaxed, oh, how her heart stuttered and drummed.
Gods, Rhode was so right with her teasing, wasn't she?
"That you are, little destroyer", he grinned. Honestly, it was unfair to be so attractive.
"Hey, dude, don't hurt my fragile mortal feelings” The joke fell flat, however.
"I never wanted to, Percy," his eyes were so bright blue and sincere, so wide and sad. "I can be a dumb fuck, an egoist, but I never -"
Despite Percy's occasional obliviousness, the tenderness in her heart and the wave of heat in her veins were undeniable, even to her. Somehow, through their interactions and non-talks, she fell in love with Apollo, with his mood swings, haiku obsessions, and holy red cows.
Percy's crush on Annabeth dwindled over the years. Annabeth's pining for Luke made it easier to ignore the budding feelings for the girl.
And honestly? The daughter of Athena never stood a chance against the epitome of all things blonde, competent, and ridiculously hot.
Percy never wanted to fall for a god and never expected to. Her ability allowed her to learn random, disgusting facts about everyone, and she could see their atrocities and failures.
It was hard to overcome those impressions, but "You are none of those things, trust me."
Not Apollo, despite all of his feats, and misdeeds.
"But it wouldn't hurt if you kissed me to make it better.”
"You don't realize what you're asking, my dear seashell," Apollo said, as still as a statue.
The chariot had been put on autopilot. He appeared both hesitant and pleading, as if her request was both a dream come true and the worst torture he could ever imagine.
"The pain I'll cause you, the suffering... Even the sweetness of your lips isn't worth it. I'm a selfish creature, Percy. I have no moderation or restraint. And yet..."
They were so overwhelmingly close now, Percy almost felt the precipice on which the world teetered. She knew it in her bones; the thing ahead of them was both beautiful and terrifying.
She thought of the road she chose once, paved with good intentions, painted with mortal blood and godly ichor, the whiff of ephemeral happiness somewhere in the end.
Their breaths mingling, their eyes meeting in an unflinching gaze -
She couldn't wait to see what happened at the end of the road.
"Phoebus", she said, channelling her stepmother's haughtiness and Percy's own brand of recklessness. "Kiss me."
And he did.
In her short life, Persis kissed quite a lot of people. None of it could compare to kissing the sun.
"My sweet, sweet ruin, Πέρσης, you will be my undoing, my dearest," Apollo murmured. His appearance was dishevelled, his pupils dilated and dark, his golden skin a sharp contrast to her paler complexion.
But the way he looked at her, already possessive as he swept her onto his lap. The feel of his muscled arms around her, his fingers unbraiding her hair - it was exhilarating.
"It's mutual, I'm afraid,” she whispered. "Do you mind?"
He could do anything he wanted to her, this powerful, bright god. This plague and cure simmering beneath his skin, prickling beneath her fingers.
She was nearly sixteen and living on borrowed time. A visit to the River Styx had been reluctantly planned, and she might not even survive long enough to fulfil the prophecy.
All that remained for her were moments, fragments of time. If those moments could be spent basking in the sun's rays, well, her small, mortal heart was as generous as it was greedy.
So let it burn.
"Never, seashell,” Apollo pulled her even closer, and Percy forgot everything except the softness of his lips and the firmness of his body. How perfectly she fit into his embrace, how protected she felt. "For as long as you will have me, dearest, always.”
The summer passed in a blur of rushed meetings, desperate kisses, and tight hugs.
The reverence in Apollo's eyes soothed her longing. His touch was hurried and possessive as he laid his claim.
She was falling apart as she rode his muscled thighs, shattering into completion under his tongue and fingers.
Suffocating, crashing, and being reborn.
The more she had of him, the more she wanted to hold onto him and never let go. Breathe in his moans, press her lips to his throat, bite into his heartbeat as he succumbed to pleasure.
Or give in to him and allow him to worship her with words and touch, as if she were a goddess and he a humble priest attending to his deity.
In those moments her mind, ever fretful, ever alert, was filled only with Φοίβος, his name a litany of its own, a brand on her soul and body.
As if he was made to exist between her thighs, and she in his arms, to use and console and complete this intricate puzzle with their two jagged pieces.
Her mum was thoughtful sometimes as she watched them hold hands, and banter playfully, speaking more with eyes than with words.
Despite knowing that rumours spread quickly on Olympus, Percy couldn't help but feel apprehensive as she sensed Hermes' thoughtful regard and Hestia's anticipation while they observed the unexpected couple.
Especially when she started thinking about Lady Artemis' possible reaction, and then there were the campers, and Grover, and Annabeth…
It was alright, as long as she could find solace in Apollo, the sun god who erased the darkness that brewed inside her with each determined kiss.
"It's starting. Beckendorf said we've gotta move on the next week or so,” they were set for a mission, and she just knew it'd end badly, but they had to do something.
Once set in motion, the prophecy had to pass.
A battle lies ahead for all of us. Wherever you go, I can't follow, Seashell." The summer was too short while it lasted. Perhaps... No, for once she would stay positive.
"You're missing out on the fun stuff: blowing up monsters, diving into rivers, running from the police...”
"That didn't reassure me, if you must know," he grumbled as his hand teased that thin strip of skin between her shirt and skirt. "Especially when your future is so uncertain that I can't even begin to guess the outcome."
Percy frowned, thinking of the emerald threads she had been seeing. To her, they looked brighter and clearer as time passed, losing their golden shine.
"I'll do my best to return to you, worrywart," and that was all she could promise. But that had to be enough, right?
She had tonnes of reasons to survive this war and spit on the Fates' prophecy, which content she still didn't know, no thanks to Chiron, one of them being that look Apollo gave her, right before they flew to the Camp.
If not for others, she would have done it for him.
The war raged on, its casualties and cruelties mounting. Beckendorf's death was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. There was no turning back now.
Sometimes she wanted to weep. Would she be just another casualty?
Maybe it wouldn't matter, in the end.
Judging by Chiron's grim face and Annabeth's pallor, the prophecy the centaur had shared was a nicely wrapped death sentence. Well, even if Percy had to die, she would go with a bang, helping her father and saving as many demigods as she could.
To go head-to-head with a Titan lord, Persis would need every trick she could think of. This meant contacting Nico and bathing in the River Styx.
And wasn't that an adventure!
Her uncle Hades, Percy decided, was either obtuse or in denial. The very idea of saddling his own kid with this stupid prophecy was preposterous.
Of course, her cousin was powerful enough to fulfil it, but he was a child!
Persis would have smacked her uncle were she not on a time limit. Instead of helping her dad or even Zeus deal with their enemies, he was hiding in the Underworld, twiddling his thumbs! It felt like these fucking immortals shared a single brain cell among themselves!
Bathing in the River Styx was dangerous, but it was necessary, so Percy gritted her teeth and put her trust in Nico. It was terrifying; drowning was not a sensation a child of Poseidon was familiar with.
As she felt her very being consumed by the deadly waters, she thought of Apollo. If he knew of this stunt, he would definitely kidnap Percy. Or would he? She was already forgetting his hugs and kisses, the gold flecks in his sky-blue eyes.
Behind her left ear, she felt his ghostly kiss, soft and chilly, unlike Apollo's. All she remembered next was a blinding flash of light and water as the river cast her out.
As Percy gazed at a bewildered Nico, the small spot behind her ear tingled ominously. It seemed that she had actually received the Achilles curse, tethering herself to a god.
Thank the ever-loving fuck nobody had to know about that titbit like ever.
Although Percy wouldn't recommend this to anyone, the benefits of near invincibility were too good to be true. Even if she felt both stronger and weaker than before. Didn't they say you leave a part of your soul with the Styx? And what did it mean that her anchor on this mortal coil was immortal?
The treads chimed ominously as Percy battled the hordes of monsters all around her.
The Battle of Manhattan was a massacre, pure and simple. Titans, monsters, and traitorous demigods clashed in a chaotic spectacle of bloodshed, gore, and violence.
Through sheer dumb luck — she owed so much gratitude to Tyche — Percy managed to pull Michael Yew to safety just as the bridge collapsed.
"Fucking moron! I'm so telling your father about it. I hope he turns you into a fucking jackalope and knocks some self-preservation into your stupid blonde head, you asshole!"
"Oi, Perce, you make me blush. Who knew you'd care so much?"
"Stop grinning, you cretin. Go help Will before you kill yourself," grumbled Percy. "Drink nectar, fuck off, and don't pull any more death-defying stunts, dumbass."
"Love you too, Mom," he sauntered off, "Don't take too long, Mama Bear, the fledglings will worry."
Cheeky brat. Were all men mentally impaired by design? Was Artemis onto something?
And if Percy was just a mother-hen, sue her. She would never forgive herself if another child of Apollo, or any child for that matter, died on her watch when she could have prevented it.
As Percy rode the elevator to Olympus, she checked her threads. They were almost entirely green, with the poisonous gold rarely, if ever, present.
The girl didn't know where her ability stemmed from (her father? Or maybe even grandfather?) but the sight of them always calmed her down. They were growing and becoming stronger. Although she could hear nothing but soft whispers and echoes at the moment, she felt hopeful.
The path she had chosen remained as bright as ever.
And then Percy had to battle Kronos, and all the speculations were out of her mind.
It appeared that her threads were somehow linked to the Titan's powers. The more she tugged at them, the more challenging it became for the dethroned deity to manipulate time. The gold and green energies clashed violently as the two beings wreaked havoc in the Council chamber, with no sign of Aunt Hestia anywhere.
Thanks gods for that!
Percy hoped she was okay, just like the other deities. With her dad's help, they would crush Typhon in no time. And while uncle Hades dealt with the enemy on the streets (blessed be Nico and his strong-headedness!), Percy would do her best to preserve Olympus.
Well, maybe not the Council chamber.
And then Annabeth decided to interfere, only to have her vain blonde head almost chopped off by Kronos' sword. As Athena's daughter spoke and pleaded with the remnants of Luke within the Titan's shell, Percy couldn't help but feel a pang of pity.
Their relationship was strange, barely healthy. Percy despised and mourned Luke in equal measure. How could he be trusted with the fate of those very gods he had hated and waged war against?
Percy did it anyway.
She gave him the blade and watched him take his own life. Rachel's words and Aunt Hestia's warnings echoed in her mind as she observed the threads lose their golden hue and swirl in various shades of green. They grew larger, sprouting new lines and pathways that formed a beautiful tapestry of pasts, futures, nows, laters, and soons. The threads became so numerous that she could no longer count them.
It was too much!
"What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know! Hey, can someone call for Apollo's cabin? We need a medic!"
"Percy, look at me, it's Will!"
"Hold on, Mama Bear, let us help you -"
"Dad, it's Perce, she is… we don't know what's wrong, she just fell down!"
As warm hands tilted her face up, Percy recognised the touch. Oh, she knew those hands.
"Apollo,” she whispered as she forced her eyes open. Even after a gruesome battle he looked like a model for armour. "I'm alive."
So many threads, so beautiful!
Why could she see them now? Was it a boon from beating her dear old granddad?
"Seashell," he gently brushed a lock of hair from her face. "You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?"
Fortunately, no one paid them any attention as the gods were embracing their children and helping to care for the wounded.
"I have no idea what you're talking about,” she winced. Ah, she might have a concussion. "Michael, on the other hand – "
"I just saw him. What's wrong?"
For all his faults Apollo was the most dedicated godly father Percy ever met except for Poseidon. It was sweet how he fussed over them, following their exploits, sending gifts and giving blessings at the slightest opportunity.
Suddenly, Percy had a vision of twins with sea-green eyes and strawberry blond hair.
She swiftly dismissed it. No use in dwelling on such things right after averting the end of the world.
"Well, as much as he could be, considering he wanted me to destroy a bridge while standing on it,” snitched Percy.
Let's see how Michael would deal with this.
"I'll ground him,” Apollo muttered as he finished the check-up and helped her stand up. "No arrows, no gifts, lots of counselling until he is grey and –"
Another wave of dizziness washed over her, making Percy swallow the bile rising in her throat.
Something was unravelling and disrupting her thoughts. But she knew that Apollo's assistance was needed elsewhere.
Unlike Percy, the other campers didn't have the Achilles' curse to protect them.
"You do that, sunshine,” she managed to smile.
"And you,” he pointed suddenly. "I'll deal with you as soon as I heal all the kids, and we resolve this clusterfuck. My uncles shared some stories, Πέρσης, and you will tell. Me. Everything."
And with this parting shot he strode off to the demigods, leaving Percy without his warmth.
"Persis!" The scent of the breeze and sea salt filled the air. Hello, father, "What in the name of us have you been thinking?"
Now that was a conversation she wanted to avoid for as long as she could.
"The Olympians needed your help, and I couldn't be so sure that uncle Hades would come. He did, actually, with lady Demeter and cousin Persephone. It was really dramatic, dad, you should've seen it. All the skeletons and flowers - I think the Stolls have a new idol to worship, with all the chaos they caused –"
"You need to work on your deflection skills, fishie,” Poseidon deadpanned.
"Well, now I'll definitely have time for that," Oh, and here was a hug for her, too. That was nice, really nice.
"Dad?"
"Yes, daughter?"
"Can you tell me about mother and everyone while I light the tower for mum?"
Poseidon sighed and ruffled her hair.
"Of course, fishie. Let's make that signal for Sally."
Chatting with her dad about Amphitrite and her siblings, cleaning up the debris, and helping other demigods distracted Percy from the threads.
She shouldn’t have forgotten about them.
As soon as they were standing in front of the divine council, all clean and pristine and Grecian in their new clothes, waiting for the verdict from Zeus, Percy felt the threads tug at her as if their visions were trying to suffocate her.
Where they used to be hazy and short, they were now blinding in their clarity and dizzying in their ever-increasing randomness.
To stave off the upcoming migraine Persis decided to look at Annabeth. Which turned out to be a worse choice.
She could see her as a child: fighting monsters, living on the streets. Her crush on Luke, bordering on obsession. Her dismissiveness and jealousy of Percy herself. Her distrust, her possessiveness.
There were friendship and comradery, but there were also pride and narrow-mindedness.
Their path was riddled with obstacles, fights, and miscommunication. They could've been happy once. Now they would be miserable because they'd never overcome their differences.
Where Annabeth strove for order and precision, Percy thrived on chaos and unpredictability. In Annabeth's eyes, Percy would always be too uncontrolled, too dangerous.
They were too incompatible, Percy mused, watching Athena reward her daughter for her deeds.
And now Percy would never choose anyone over Apollo.
Percy sneaked a glance at the frowning god and smiled. And then the threads screamed.
Pain. Did her musings provoke it? This searing, mind-consuming PAIN!
Past and future colliding in her head, close your eyes, don't breathe, painpainPAIN!
Visions, warnings, knots and holes in time, knit them or reality would collapse – oh, it was all Kronos' fault, only a vengeful Titan could think of such torture.
Too much, TOO MUCH
It scorched Persis' mind worse than the waters of the Styx. She could hear something crack and spill open.
Control, you should control it. Failure, another, yet another.
Time was drumming in her head and devouring her psyche. She needed to go somewhere, she couldn’t stay here!
She wanted to go home, she wanted it to STOP, PLEASE, NOMOREPAINGODSPLEASE.
And then she felt a pull in her navel.
A dizzying vortex surrounded her as she tried to hold onto the thread between her and Apollo, and then the demigoddess knew no more.
"Well, that's not Olympus", mumbled Percy.
The consciousness returned slowly, as did the vision.
Luscious trees and wilderness loomed around. The air smelled of summer warmth and sea breeze. The whole place was new. It seemed wilder and cleaner, and her powers…
"Fuck. That's unexpected".
The threads felt loose, they looked just like they did before the rise of Kronos: converging around Percy rather than spreading out and encompassing others. They remained strong, but dormant, which meant that the Titan of Time still existed here.
Okay, so it might have been the future –
Or the past, given how young and untainted the world around her felt. No skyscrapers, nor even a hint of air pollution. It was cool and freaky, like, panic-attack level of freaky.
Did Pan exist here? Gah, brain, start braining!
"I really, really hope I'm not at the dawn of the Age of the Gods."
Percy tried to transform her sword from its hairpin form. And – surprise! – it refused to.
Inhale, exhale, no need to cause any earthquakes. Good news: she wasn't completely helpless here.
But damn, she couldn't even contact her dad cause if she was that far in the past, there weren't any demigods yet.
Fucking great. Now what to do?
Okay, so she was dressed appropriately for the period. Olympic ceremonies, everyone, hooray.
She didn't have a weapon, which sucked, but she could still use her abilities, which was good. Cause, you know, no help from the undersea fam.
Did she say that this whole time-travelling shindig sucked?
Nevermind. How did one survive in the wilderness?
First thing first, Persis'd have to find a shelter. Then some water and sustenance.
"And then I can have my meltdown and start thinking on steps three, four, etcetera. Awesome, let's go."
Of course, just when Percy was about to munch on some fruit, she heard a woman's desperate cry.
Moments later a gorgeous auburn-haired lady almost ran the girl through. A heavily pregnant lady, at that. Her belly was so huge she looked ready to pop the sprogs any second now.
A young woman, nearly a girl, alone, in the wild?
"My lady, are you well?" Percy asked. Time and experience hammered some cautiousness into her head.
The woman didn't look like a monster, well, that belly looked monstrous but in a normal, sorta pregnant-females-weird-me-out kind of thing.
"I wish you no harm, I swear so by the Styx."
Oh no, she wouldn't cry, would she? Shit! That's bad for a baby? Babies? Did she swallow a balloon? She was huge!
"Thank you for your kindness, dear child.”
Her voice was warm and soft, the Ancient Greek melodious from her tongue. Right, she could call Percy “child” or whatever as long as she stopped crying.
"Alas, I can't help but weep at the fate befalling me".
Ugh, those Ancient Greeks with their speeches.
"How so, my lady? Can I help you?"
Polite and helpful, Percy, extremely polite and helpful. Always improves your chances of survival.
"No one can help me escape the wrath of the Queen of Gods,” the woman bemoaned. "As she decreed, I can find no land to dwell on, no place to rest and give birth to my children for I made a mistake to succumb to the charms of her husband".
And didn't THAT sound familiar? It wouldn't be Zeus's mistress, would it? Keeping up with the Olympians, godly edition. Fuck.
"What about a place unbound to lands?"
See? She could be smart. That might work. The place would be in Poseidon's domain and out of Hera's control, and there would be a place for the woman to recuperate and to give birth.
But if it didn't sound so familiar, Percy would eat her sword.
"As if any god would hear the lament of a daughter of Coeus and Phoebe. They have no care for my mother but my father, this one they despise for good reason. They would rather condemn me than oppose his sister.”
Hm, and what about dad? He's always been salty about Hera, so maybe he could help - but what could she sacrifice?
Her sword, she might need it back home, if she ever came back home (could she?). Dad had a sweet tooth – fruit, maybe?
Well, in for a penny and whatnot.
"My lord Poseidon, hear your humble daughter's call. I'm praying to you not on my own behalf but on that of another. The lady –"
"It's Leto, child", the woman replied, "And while I appreciate your concern, it is not –"
"It really is,” Persis cut in.
She was helping out a Titanness, she just wanted a cuddle with Apollo and blue cookies. How was this her life, again?
"My dearest father, you may know not of me since I'm, well, not even born yet, but I besiege you on behalf of Lady Leto to help her find safe lands in your domain to rest and give birth for she suffers greatly. I plead with you, father, to help this woman, help your future nephews. Please, accept my offerings and my prayers for I seek no personal gain but aid for another.”
As Percy approached the waters, she tossed in her fruit. Then, as an afterthought, she unclasped her mother's necklace from around her neck and offered that as well.
It was a delicate golden seashell on a chain. She never took it off, not since her 5th birthday, the only gift from Sally. Not even Smelly Gabe could take it from her.
It was a gift imbued with motherly love, and Percy hoped it would help convince dad to help Leto. Leto, as far as she knew, was a deity of motherhood, modesty, and womanly demureness.
Leto, who was Artemis and Apollo’s mum.
Talk about awkward first meetings with the in-laws.
"I knew not of any children of Poseidon other than those he fathered with Amphitrite. What is your name, daughter of the seas?"
"It's Persis, my lady", Percy blushed. "And I'm yet to be born, at least for some millennia.”
"Now that's a story I'd like to hear,” a familiar voice replied.
The queen Amphitrite looked as splendid as ever in her royal clothes, her presence all-consuming, and leaving no room for arguing.
Well, in the past they didn't know each other, so she might smite Percy but still the girl couldn't help but feel that desperate surge of affection for her second mother.
She’d missed her.
"You look just like your father, child,” Amphitrite mused. "It's a wonder, though, that you should inherit his softer nature. None of our children did, after all, not even Rhode."
Rhode and Triton, how she missed them! Oh, wait. There was also Kym in the past. Perhaps being stuck in the past wasn't so bad if she could meet her.
"Your majesty, I —"
"None of that nonsense, child,” she was so like herself in the future Percy wanted to cry. "Help Lady Leto stand up, we have an island to reach.”
Percy's stepmother summoned a dolphin-drawn chariot, and they travelled in the wisps of water, surged by tides, moving farther and farther from land. Thankfully, Leto didn't get seasick (could the deities get seasick?)
"While my husband couldn't greet you, he was quite gracious to make this place for you, daughter of Phoebe,” Amphitrite mused as they reached a magnificent island in the middle of nowhere.
"It is a moving island for it is not connected to any lands. Hera's curse will be unable to reach you here. Now, lay down and rest. I'll come later to aid you when birth time comes. I do so wonder what my niece or nephew will look like.”
Sea-fam for the win, Persis smiled. Good old dad and his oneupmanship, nice to know that some things never change.
"And as for you, dear,” Lady Amphitrite turned to Percy, "I return this to you. No daughter should be separated from her mother. You must not discard such gifts in the future.”
Percy was aware that the relationship between her father and stepmother wasn't ideal. However, in the future, they found happiness together.
Unlike Hera, the queen of the seas was very affectionate. She loved freely and passionately like any sea creature, and despite her husband's infidelity, she never let it affect his children.
"Then I shall cherish it as a gift from both of my mothers, my lady,” Percy replied, the seashell necklace warm on her neck, where it belonged.
"See that you do, daughter,” she smirked. "Do try to keep that troublesome woman out of further mischief. What all these women see in Zeus, I'll never know.”
"Thank you – " and here she goes again, disappearing with mist. What a drama queen. Well, they all were, and she loved them for it.
"I'd say you were an enchantress if I didn't know how possessive the sea is of its treasures.” The pregnant Titanness smiled at Persis. "Hush, child, do not protest. I can see it in your eyes how you cherish Oceanus's daughter. I hope my children will be half as devoted to me as you are to your family. How did this come to be?”
And so Persis spoke. While helping Leto bathe and finding some food for them to eat on the newly named island of Delos, the mortal girl shared stories of her future family with the immortal Titanness.
She omitted some things, like the entire Kymopoleia issue, and she didn't mention Apollo at all because that was another minefield she didn't want to touch, especially not with his future mother.
This didn't stop the woman from prodding and asking Percy more about her "suitor" or whatever.
Ugh, why was it so complicated, again?
"The future truly sounds intriguing. Fret not, dear, my lips are sealed. As a daughter of the Titanness of prophecies I know firsthand that some things aren't meant to be shared or spread around. I can't help but wonder, though, why we didn't meet one another. And why is it that you of all beings manifested the Crooked One's powers? Mayhap with time the truths will be revealed to you, dear child. I wonder if mother could –"
Leto suddenly stopped in her speech.
"What is it?" Please, don't say –
"My children are ready to see this world,” Leto stated calmly. "However, I don't know how I can give birth to them, seeing as Eileithyia is with her mother, who despises me, and I can hardly —"
"But other deities were born before without any issue, right?"
This was getting absurd! Rhea could give birth to all the gods, but no one else could? Did Hera's daughter monopolise the entire process? With Leto going into labour, how long would she have to wait before she could deliver her children?
What kind of nonsense was this?
"I think so?”
"Then you will have yours as well", Percy said with the confidence she didn't feel. "Some deities can bring forth children from their thoughts alone, but you may need to prepare to give birth the usual way. You better start pacing, okay?”
Pacing, then what? What would she need? Boiling water and purifying scraps of her himation was easy. Well, at least Percy still had her peplos on, no naked parades around.
It was creepy, she was about to help deliver a baby Phoebus!
Right, modesty and propriety aside, what did she know about childbirth? Almost zero to nothing? That Eileithyia goddess' help would be so appreciated right now.
What was there in that Wiki article she read for fun once? Dilations, contractions, head going first, watch for the umbilical cord, deliver placenta at the end.
Did immortals even have placental expulsion?
Keep calm, Percy, no time to panic. You were tasked with watching over Leto. You risked contacting your father for her. You can deal with this whole child delivery issue.
Well, maybe not.
"Breathe deeply, now, that's good, inhale, exhale. You're safe, you're gonna be fine, everything is going as it should Now, push!"
Percy wasn't squeamish, but this whole situation took the word "bizarre" to a new level. Reading Wikipedia a couple of times wasn't a substitute for some real-life experience and professional medical help. But by providence, they were doing well.
At some point, Amphitrite joined them. Another woman accompanied her, and damn, the resemblance was so uncanny that they could have been sisters.
That woman could be no one else than Percy's grandmother Rhea, who, according to her dad, absconded to gods-know-where sometime during the Second World War and was generally known as a recluse.
From what he mentioned, it was Zeus' fault. But her dad was biased, maybe the lady just wanted to retire and have fun without managing her grown-up kids.
And yet, here she was, her divine grandmother, approaching them with that inhuman grace that Percy could never hope to imitate. All these goddesses made her feel inadequate with her stained peplos and ruffled long hair.
Helping deliver a child (or twins in this case) was a messy business!
"Well met, granddaughter,” Rhea smiled, and Percy's shoulders sagged in relief.
Okay, no smiting, goog, good. She could do this. They could do it.
"You were right, Amphitrite, though she looks like me, her stubbornness is all my son's. Rest for a bit, dear child, I'll look after Leto while you replenish yourself".
"Thank you, my lady,” was all Percy could say.
Rest, rest sounded good, too. Some food, a short nap, maybe a swim in the water, and Percy would be as right as rain.
“Call me grandmother, dear girl.”
These smiles could have been weaponised.
"Is she addled with something, daughter?" Amphitrite studied Leto's pained face as if the Titaness were an unknown specimen. "What ails her, Persis?"
"With Lady Eileithyia on Olympus, Lady Leto now has to give birth as mortals do,” the look of bewilderment on Amphitrite's face was worth it.
"How… unfortunate. Well, then. Your grandmother and I shall aid her while you recuperate. And then you help this poor dear."
Or else.
A few hours later, Percy was fully prepared to continue.
Leto, thanks to her divine kin, was no longer in pain. But that did not make it easier for the gentle Titaness.
Percy attempted to divert her attention with stories from the future, recounting some of her amusing and not-so-amusing adventures.
Given the wide-eyed expressions around her, the deities wanted to swaddle her in bubble wrap. Ironically, Triton had done exactly that in the future, an incident that still ranked as one of Percy's most embarrassing memories.
Despite her diminutive size, she was far from helpless!
As long as it didn't involve helping pregnant goddesses.
Later, when asked, Percy couldn't recall the exact duration it took for them to deliver the children. It had felt like a meditative trance, a rhythmic process of pulling and pushing, accompanied by Leto's screams.
Then, there was a moment of silence, and suddenly, Percy found herself holding a beautiful, crying baby girl in her hands.
"Artemis, my little wolf," Leto sighed happily as she breastfed her child. She then passed her to Rhea, who blessed the girl and fed her a little nectar and ambrosia.
As her contractions resumed, she gasped, "I suspected I might have another, but twins—what a blessing!"
A titaness of motherhood, right.
As the demigoddess stood there, a young girl suddenly appeared beside her. Instead of resembling a newborn, Lady Artemis appeared as if she were ten years old, with liquid silver eyes and auburn hair.
Her appearance was nearly identical to the day they had first met in the future. Despite her youth, she appeared ancient, radiating a divine aura under the pale silver light.
"I'll help you deliver my brother, lady," she said."It is by the Moirae's decree that I shall be the patron of midwives. I can do it.”
"Of course, Lady Artemis", Percy acquiesced.
The second delivery went smoothly, the child emerging and bathing everything in a golden glow. As Leto fed Apollo and the elder goddesses cooed over him, she couldn't help but reiterate: he was unfairly cute.
Well, he's always been a bit vain, Percy thought as she looked at her now fresh and pristine peplos, her hair gathered in an elaborate updo and her skin gaining some healthy tan.
"My brother will be troublesome," Artemis smiled.
"You have no idea," Percy muttered under her breath.
"Watch it, little sister,” a familiar voice replied and Percy was treated to the sight of a ten-year-old looking Apollo, with all his boyish charm and troublemaker's smile.
She always enjoyed gazing upon him, the embodiment of beauty and grace, the most Grecian of all gods. Even when he was sad or angry, he was so mesmerising that it took her breath away.
"I just helped deliver you, brother, don't be such a dimwit, you embarrass me,” Artemis rolled her eyes.
"But Artie –", now that sounded terribly familiar.
Unlike the look in Apollo's eyes as he gazed upon her. There was something raw there. Something wild and hungry. A hunter ready to catch and devour its prey.
"Never you mind. What I'd like to know is who you are, you wondrous creature?"
"Well, I –"
How do you tell your future boyfriend that you were kinda dating him several millennia later in the future without telling him you're from the future?
Fortunately, it was at this moment that Percy felt the familiar tug in her navel. In an instant, with a shimmer of green, Percy found herself back in 2009, on Olympus, as if nothing had ever happened.
Not even a second passed between her disappearance and her return. The Olympians were still listing Annabeth's achievements and bestowing her with gifts.
And Percy could've even believed it was all a trick of her imagination, or another one of her dreams, if not for her golden peplos, her traitorous sword-turned-pen stuck in her hairdo, and Apollo's face turning ashen.