Chapter Text
“Now for the Ophiotaurus,” Artemis said.
“This boy is still dangerous,” Dionysus warned. “The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”
“No.” Percy looked around at all the gods, his heart hammering. He hadn’t said much while they discussed his own demise, but Bessie had declared him his protector. He couldn’t let them kill him. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here in Olympus. But you have to protect him.”
“And why should we trust you?” rumbled Hephaestus.
“I’m only fourteen,” Percy said. “If this prophecy is about me, that’s two more years.”
“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena said. “Much can change in two years, my young hero.”
“Mother!”
Percy glanced at Annabeth, gratified by her outburst. A year ago, Annabeth wouldn’t have dreamt of questioning Athena.
“It is only the truth, child. It is bad strategy to keep the animal alive. Or,” Athena studied Percy intently, “the boy.”
Percy swallowed, not liking the intense look on Athena’s face. She looked like Annabeth had a long time ago, when she’d come up with a brilliant Capture the Flag strategy that put him right in Clarisse’s crosshairs. Except somehow, her calculating expression was harsher, colder. Annabeth had been there, invisible, ready to step in before the Ares kids killed him. Athena would throw him to the wolves without hesitation, if she thought it was the strategic thing to do.
And she did think that.
He was used to dealing with terrifying situations on his own, with no adult or mentor to turn to. So, it surprised him as much as anyone else when he instinctively glanced at Poseidon for reassurance. Would he let this happen?
Poseidon stood. “I will not have a sea creature destroyed if I can help it. And I can help it.”
He held out his hand, and a trident appeared in it: a six-metre-long bronze shaft with three spear tips that shimmered with blue, watery light. “I will vouch for the boy, and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”
Percy blinked. Shock paralysed him for a moment, followed by warmth at the gesture. What did vouching for him mean? He didn’t know exactly, but by the way the gods had shifted, looking between Percy and Poseidon with renewed interest, it was serious.
But now Zeus was on his feet as well. “You won’t take it under the sea! I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”
“Brother, please—”
The room smelled like a storm. Zeus was holding his lightning bolt.
Poseidon met Percy’s eyes briefly—just a flash of green—before sighing. “Fine. I will build an aquarium for the creature here. Hephaestus can help me.” He nodded to the god, but Percy couldn’t read Hephaestus’s expression. His face was still fixed in a scowl. “The creature will be safe. We shall protect it with all our powers. The boy will not betray us.” He slowed his words, looking around as if to make sure they found their marks. “I vouch for this on my honour.”
Oh. So, he was vouching on his honour. Yeah, that was serious.
Zeus looked suspicious still but thoughtful. Then Athena said, “You also swore, once, that a boy like this would never exist, uncle.”
Poseidon looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You question me?”
“I do. The sea is changeable, as are you. The boy’s existence proves it. If he is the same,” she turned her grey eyes back on Percy, and it took all his power not to back away, “the last thing we want is a changeable prophecy child who has not yet turned sixteen.”
Artemis came to Percy’s defence. “Our father also broke the oath, Athena. If you are to question Poseidon’s honour, you must also question his.”
“And I would, were Thalia still a threat. But you have saved her from ever turning sixteen. It is unfortunate that the boy has no such recourse.”
The worst part was that when she looked over at him again, Athena did seem almost sorry for him. She glanced at Annabeth, and Percy got the feeling that she regretted every word she said, especially that she said them in front of her daughter. But she believed they were necessary points to make.
“Enough,” Zeus said. “Poseidon has vouched for the boy and the beast, on his honour. All in favour of letting them both live?”
Poseidon and Artemis raised their hands. Apollo followed his sister’s example, looking serious in a way Percy hadn’t seen him before. Aphrodite raised her hand delicately, shooting him a wink when she noticed him looking at her. Percy wasn’t sure what to think of that. Finally, Hermes and Hephaestus twitched. Hephaestus raised his hand with the slowness of a winch, his gaze on Bessie like he was already thinking up aquarium designs. But after an initial movement like he was going to raise his hand, Hermes glanced at Poseidon, glanced at Percy, and looked away. He remained still.
“All opposed?” Zeus asked, tone neutral. He raised his own hand, mirrored by Athena, Ares, and Dionysus. Hera and Demeter followed, and finally Hermes did too. He wasn’t looking at Percy anymore.
Poseidon was staring at his fellow Olympians in shock. “You doubt my word?”
“Silence, brother. The votes have been cast.” Zeus stood, his lightning bolt back in his hand. He ignored Bessie to look at Percy.
Percy remembered returning that bolt to him, less than two years ago. He had looked up at Zeus then, and he had watched his uncle’s expression soften minutely as he looked down at him, even as he still glowered. It was much the same now. Just like his daughter, Zeus pitied Percy.
But not enough to save him.
Poseidon surged to his feet. “Brother—”
There was a flash of white. Ozone billowed through the air. Every molecule of Percy’s body ignited—and he knew no more.
On the banks of the River Styx, Charon’s fleshless face grinned at him. “Finally drowned in that bathtub?”