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On the one hand, Percy knew eavesdropping was rude. On the other, any respect he had for most of the gods had been put in front of a council of his own, and that council voted to kill it. On a third, related hand, Percy was mad that he was going to have to deal with the gods’ bullshit for literally forever, and if semi-obviously eavesdropping on a conversation between a few of the gods that annoy him the most was a petty, underhanded move to let them know that? Well. What were they gonna do about it, kill him?
“A god that bleeds red—a, a blood god, if you will—it’s unheard of,” Ares was saying, completely unaware, as most were, of the fireplace where Percy and Hestia sat, clearly listening intently to anyone who bothered to look their way. “Every other mortal that’s risen has immediately gotten ichor. Hell, even the few who have tried and failed over the millennia have developed ichor of their own, only for it to burn them out. Why not him? I don’t like it.”
“He’s clearly something new,” Athena said. “Something unknown, yes, but we do know that he’s ascended on his own and he is immensely powerful. Part of it is his parentage, but only a small part. The majority of his powers have grown and developed purely because of him.”
Zeus harrumphed. “And because he has these powers, he decides he is able to berate the entire council.”
“I find myself agreeing with the boy,” Dionysus yawned. “Clearly, if you all have the time to stand here and grouch about him, you have time to claim your children.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” Ares remarked snidely.
“When you don’t claim your children, Cabin 11 finds itself…overcrowded. And when that happens, Peter comes to me to complain—“
Demeter raised an eyebrow. “Perseus, do you mean?”
“That’s what I said, Perry. And then I have to sit and listen to the insufferable little sea brat being right about how useless we all are when it comes to being parents.” He tipped his can of coke at the others. “Do you have any idea how infuriating it is, agreeing with him? By the Fates, I’ve been so irritated, our strawberries have produced record highs this year. He’s already convinced Chiron to use the profits to build a cabin purely for the undetermined children to use before they get claimed.”
Hera pursed her lips. “His focus doesn’t seem to be on the Council, right now. It’s on the demigods. Perhaps we could—“
“We have had enough ideas out of you, I think, for the next few eons,” Athena intoned, still butthurt that Hera’s idea had led to a Roman returning her statue to Camp rather than her favored daughter, who was just, you know, a little bit too busy saving the world.
But she was definitely right. Hera could take her ideas and shove them up her podex.
Percy turned to Hestia. “Five drachmas on Athena.”
Hestia examined the enraged look on Hera’s face. “Make it ten and you’re on.”