Work Text:
Percy didn't know what was happening to him.
His head was spinning, his blood was pounding in his veins.
His body screamed.
"Perseus."
That was his name, Percy recognized. His name was Perseus. Not Percy.
Perseus.
The destroyer. The dismantler. The looter.
Perseus, the slayer.
Perseus, a name taken from the only hero who had had a happy ending, a name that was supposed to give hope to Percy's future, a future that didn't seem likely for the son of Poseidon.
It had done it. Percy didn’t die, not for the gods, not for the titans, not for the giants and not for the primordials.
None of them were able to kill him.
Perseus had no need for hope, not now as the chains were lifted from his hands, not now as Fate lost the hold it had held on him since his birth, that had bound him to the mortal world for so long.
"Perseus, arise, my son."
Percy looked up, hearing the voice blurry, feeling unfocused.
Before him, Poseidon stood, the possessive and protective gaze of the Sea resting on the young demigod.
On the young god.
"Rise, my son. It's time for you to accept who you really are."
Perseus looked at the god, standing up. “Will you show me, father?”
Poseidon's smile was nothing but ferocity, love, and possessiveness to the extreme. "I will, Perseus."