Chapter Text
His hands were covered in the cuts he just finished putting on them, his eyes not believing the gold that spilled out of them.
Gold like the rare treasures Hazel had a skill for unearthing.
Gold like the cruel eyes Luke wore when he hosted the essence of Kronos.
Gold like the ichor that now burned through his veins, giving them a slight glow. It hummed beneath his skin, the vibrations feeling almost too much for his body and they’ve only begun increasing in frequency.
The Fates once more proved how much of a practical joke they liked to make his life seem and he had accomplished the one thing he never wanted: he ascended into godhood. The effect wasn’t instantaneous, which might be why he didn’t know until after Gaea was defeated, the scattering of her essence rippled through the very earth as she crumpled back into the ground. Annabeth seemed to figure out it much quicker than he did, she knew the moment he ascended but didn’t say anything until afterwards. He didn’t know it then, but she was already mourning him by the time they got off the Argo II.
Leading him to this moment, where he’s testing out whether or not it’s true. And it was. There is no other explanation of why he could feel the pull of the sea much more acutely, feel the vibrations in the humidity of the air as people moved, no other reason for why his body feels like a prison. There were two things he could do:
1. Confront the repercussions of his godhood. Go to Olympus, face Zeus and his inevitable wrath at his ascension without his permission. He would somehow pin the blame on him and there would be another vote on his life, immortal or not, as he doubts Zeus cares what form he takes. This option is becoming less and less appealing the more he thinks about it.
2. Run away and push his problems to the back of his mind until he’s ready to confront the inevitable. It’s not a very honorable or dignified option but it’ll allow him to wrap his head around what had happened to him at his own pace without any meddlesome gods getting in his way. He won’t avoid them forever, just for a while, which could now mean anything between a few weeks or a few decades considering he’s got an eternity before him.
Option 2 was sounding much better than the first. Option 2 it is. So, before the Seven were called up to Olympus, Percy plotted out his escape and ran with only Annabeth’s mourning eyes watching his back. He didn’t want to confront the gods, not about the war and especially not about his ascension. One day he’ll come back, sooner rather than later, but right now when he’s facing the worst existential crisis of his life, he felt that this was the right choice for him. But, there was someone who he actually did want to see.
He found himself knocking on a familiar blue door on the fifth floor of an apartment building in the Upper East Side. He didn’t have to wait long until he heard hurried footsteps getting closer and a frantic twisting of the door knob and saw the timeless face of his mother. Her blue eyes were shining with the same storm he knew was in his- he always said he got his rebellious streak from her and he stands by that statement.
Immediately, they both threw their arms around each other, her arms catching him without fail. The panic attack that was on the precipice of forming was both soothed and exacerbated. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh now that he’s finally seeing her again, so he settles for an awkward mix of both.
His mother dragged him further into the house before settling down on the couch together. Somehow, he ended up half-sitting in her lap, his face tucked into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, a difficult position considering his build, but she held him like he was still a child running away from his step father. They both needed the comfort of having the other in their arms.
Rubbing his back soothingly and wiping his tears while ignoring her own, he was able to calm down to a few sniffles. When he pulled away to meet her eyes, he found none of the confusion that he expected but rather her eyes were soft and understanding.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, honey. I’m just glad you’re safe and alive.” She smiled.
“But mom, you-you don’t understand. During the-the war, something happened. I-I ascended. I’m a god now, don’t you see? It’s everything I never wanted!” Everything he put in the back of his mind just came rearing forward, settling in as his new reality now. but somehow, it felt easier admitting it to his mother than to himself.
Her smile stayed on her face, but there was a tense line to it now, and her eyes became worried. Still, she refused to crack. “Well, it’s a good thing I have a few batches of cookies left over. How’s it about you telling me whatever it is you’re ready to tell me over some blue cookies?”
He found himself smiling, he didn't think it came out very well, but he sank into the couch, nodding his head, his shoulders relaxing. His mom gave a short laugh at how much the promise of cookies appeased him, but she made sure to take them out of the fridge and heat them as quickly as possible.
It took him a while to explain the whole situation to her. Paul came not too soon after he began his tale, and he started over again, because Paul deserved to know just as much as his mother does. He gave him a tight hugging, rocking him back and forth, and it quickly rose into one of his top five hugs of all time.
“I don’t really understand why it happened. It might be because of the fact that the offer of godhood was even given to me. Even though I declined, I proved I had powers that were, I guess, abnormally powerful for a demigod? Maybe proving I’m capable of withstanding the powers that come with godhood? I’m not sure honestly. I just know Tartarus changed something in me. I-I felt something, like, crack in me when I used my powers on Akhlys’ poison, but I thought it was just me passing my limits.” He sighed before taking a chomp from his cookies, “I don’t know, but that’s the best I got.”
When he finally looked up from his story, his mother was staring intently at him, like she was trying to pick him apart. It was a rare look for her. “I don’t think that’s all there is to it, Percy.”
“What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “Most other mortal beings that rise to godhood usually have already died beforehand, like Chiron or Dionysus. They already let go of their mortality. But you went a different route than most. Before the final battle against the Titans, you asked for my blessing to allow you to bathe in the River Styx, and that gave you a taste of what immortality was. Save for that one mortal point you picked, you were invincible.
“Most mortals perish at that much power contained in their bodies. But, thankfully, you didn’t. You prevailed. The fact that your body, your soul, already knows what it feels like to be immortal, might have made the ascension easier, might have even been the catalyst for it.”
“But I only had it for a few months, max. I had to get rid of it once I crossed the Tiber River. Why would it still have that sort of effect on me?”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart, but mortal bodies aren’t supposed to be able to hold that sort of power in the first place. They implode on themselves trying to contain more essence than their body can safely hold. But the fact that you survived not only receiving that sort of power, but also being able to remove it, almost without any side effects or pain, you might have shown that your body has a large threshold for power, and when the chance to ascend rose, it took its opportunity. Either that or, or suffer through the same fate as every other demigod with greater powers than they were destined to have- death.”
Percy couldn’t meet either of their eyes after that. He took another cookie to keep his hands busy. Either he was supposed to die soon after Tartarus with the powers he had as a demigod or be forced to upgrade into a god so he’s able to live. What an impossible decision. Die young or live forever. Only thing is it’s no longer a decision he can make; it’s been taken completely out of his hands. A part of him feels relieved that he doesn’t have to make it, but another part of him, the part of him that hates being restrained, is snapping its teeth, grieving at what it lost, might have even picked to live out his final days as a mortal than ascend.
“I never wanted any of this. All I ever wanted was peace. Was that really too much to ask for?” His voice felt weak, probably sounded it too.
“I know, baby, and more than anyone else, you deserved to have that respite. But there’s nothing we can do about it now but make the best of it. You’re owed that much at the very least.” He finally looked up when he heard his mother sigh, taking his face in her hands.
“Percy, I know this may be selfish of me to say, but, for whatever comfort it might bring you, I’m not mad or disappointed at this turn of events, and especially not at you, never at you. A part of me is admittedly relieved that I’ll never have to see your body buried in a grave, never have you return home, or see your funeral shroud burned.” She gave a rueful smile, like regretting a past memory. “I’ve always prayed that I’d be blessed enough to keep you for the rest of my life, that you’d outlive me and not succumb to the gruesome fates of so many other heroes. That’s why I named you Perseus. I’m sorry that it came at the cost of your free will and mortality being stripped away. I can only hope that we’ll have more happy memories together for you to remember us by and ensure you know that I have loved and will love you for the eternity you’re forced to live.”
Percy already felt tears he didn’t know he had left to give when Paul spoke up for the first time since he came. “Percy, I’ll admit that I may be the only one that didn’t see this coming from what your mother said. I’m so sorry that you were put in this situation without any forewarning or even a heads-up. You’re a lot stronger than most would be in this situation.” Paul was getting a little choked up, the somber mood settling on all of them like a heavy cloud.
“But your mother is right. God or not, it doesn’t change our love for you and we’d do anything if only you asked. Even though you have more power than you thought yourself capable of, more responsibilities, you’ll never lose our support. You deserve to grieve the life you thought you’d have but can’t, but,” He paused, making sure he held Percy’s eyes, “You’ll never lose the both of us, we’ll always have your back.”
“Well, three now.” His mother had a watery but warm smile as she put a hand over her flat stomach.
No way. As if he didn’t have enough reasons to cry.
“You-you mean, that you’re-” His mother was already nodding.
“We don’t know the gender, it’s still a fairly new development but yes, we’re expecting!” His mother’s smile was bright and honest, and he couldn’t help looking at Paul for confirmation, who was looking between them with a fond look in his eyes before agreeing.
“Yup, we found out a few days ago, we wanted to wait to tell you until things cooled off, tell you when you weren’t still geared up for war, but I guess this is as good of a time as any, since you don’t seem to have a calm moment in your life to receive good news.” He winked at him playfully.
He pulled them back into another hug, this time one filled with mirth and celebration. Not for the first time in his life, not even the first time that day, his family has brought him a peace of mind that each time he never thinks is possible.
He never wanted to lose this feeling.
He left after a few hours, when the rumbling in the sky was getting louder and louder, taking the bag his mother forced him to pack and the cell phone that Paul gifted him with.
“It’s just for emergency contact so we can talk to each other, or if we had news that would take longer than a prayer. You’re a god now so I doubt there’d be many monsters left lined up to fight you.”
Percy took the phone as the gift that it was, touched that they would spend this much money for him (“It’s no big deal, sweetie, it’s more for us anyways!”) but old habits were hard to break, and he resolved not to use the phone too much. He preferred seeing his parents in person anyways.
“Don’t forget to visit us, baby, or I will come find you this time, god or not.” His mom laughed but her smile was just a little too sharp for him to believe she’s joking. “We’ll even give you parts of our dinner as offerings for you.”
“Yeah, though I’m not too sure how you’d like having the smell of burnt chicken as your dinner, but we don’t judge in this household, no matter how weird.” Paul was definitely laughing at him now, moved on from the grieving stage to the jokes.
Percy just waved his eyes at them, biting back a smile though, judging by their smirks, he didn't think he succeeded that well. He waved them off as he went down the stairs, feeling their eyes on his back until they couldn’t see him anymore. Once he was far enough away to ensure they can’t see him, he tried his hand at flashing away from New York. He tried imagining somewhere that wasn’t New York. It felt like his spine was a rubber band that was pulled too tight and finally released, shooting him to his new location.
He didn’t have a particular place in mind, so at first he didn’t know where he was until he saw a sign saying “Entering Des Moines - 5 miles.” Iowa it is then. Surprisingly, he was just able to read the sign perfectly. His ascension must have cured his dyslexia, or at least made it tolerable- he doesn’t know about cursive handwriting.
At least he landed somewhere no one could pinpoint on the map. No one’s gonna think of coming to Iowa of all places to come look for him. As with all his plans, he’ll wing it as he goes along until he’s forced to come up with an inevitably death-defying idea, so for now he’ll take to exploring the world on his own, starting with Iowa.
He stayed there for one day.
Needless to say, Iowa was not fun. Their corn wasn’t bad, he’ll give them that. Unfortunately, everything else failed to reach anyone’s standards. They’re known for their corn because that’s the only thing they have. Iowa can’t be known for anything else because they don’t have anything else. He traveled the state for hours and saw only miles of corn monoculture, it’s the most boring place he’s been to. He’s not coming back.
He traveled to different states and countries, seeing new people and tasting new food. This was when he used his phone to take pictures to show his parents on his occasional visits. He somehow always made friends with the children, playing their games in public parks and making sure they were safe. Every time he left them, he abused his powers, just a little bit, and gave them a subtle blessing.
He picked up on it pretty fast: blessings. He just had to focus on what he wanted it to accomplish, how the ones receiving it would use it, and he was able to gift it to them. Sometimes he left them with heightened athletic abilities, or the will to stand up for themselves whenever they were confronted with bullies.
There’d be times where he found kids who were abused or neglected by their families. They were always the ones he had the hardest time leaving, seeing himself in the dullness of their eyes and slump of their backs, completely hopeless. He knew empty promises of “everything will turn out okay,” accompanied by fake smiles, get nothing fixed and lose their meaning after the fourth time they’re received. Instead he tried to watch over them, leaving a little part of him behind in a blessing to heal their bruises and enough money to get them food whenever they were hungry. He always made sure to check up on them and come by to give them a fun day.
Some of the kids realized he was more than what he said. They didn’t know what exactly, some thought he was an angel. Others thought he was a kindred spirit who watched over kids and had adventures. Either way, they too began praying to him, usually for safety or another day at the park.
His parents unsurprisingly kept their promise of sacrificing food to him, even with random prayers which are really just updates on what’s happening in their lives. Like clockwork, every night and every morning he’s washed with the warm and loving feeling of receiving offerings.
“We went out for sushi today to celebrate me finishing one of my chapters! Take care of yourself for me, baby!” His mother’s voice echoed in his head, feeling the ghost of her arms hugging him, and tasting something both salty and sweet on his tongue.
“Your mother just ordered five different fish rolls as her appetizer. Her appetizer. I don’t think I’ll survive her pregnancy cravings- I can’t imagine how much worse it was when she was pregnant with you-don’t give me that look, Sally, I’m right-” Paul’s voice came right after, his laugh finishing off the prayer. His stomach settled like he just finished eating a big meal and he felt more energized than he ever remembers. This must be the power of offerings by your devout worshippers. No wonder the gods could live off of this.
Some of the campers have been offering him parts of their camp meals too. The news of his ascension must have spread around, so everyone knows he’s a god by now, but he’s still surprised every time someone decides to sacrifice a part of their meal to him.
A prayer of “I hope you’re doing well and you’re safe wherever you are.” was accompanied by the smell of a hot, summer sun and the taste of brisket. He smiled at the familiar hug he always felt whenever someone wished for his safety.
“Please give Apollo’s cabin- especially Kayla, she’s way too cocky- your blessing in archery, I’d like to knock them down a peg or two.” He laughed at that. A whole plate was actually offered for that one and he got a little zing up his spine, like a shock telling him he needs to get up and do something.
“Congratulations on your ascension, Prissy. Don’t come back.” That one came with the smell of gunpowder but, surprisingly enough, also along with the taste of a whole fried chicken sandwich, which was very nice of- he’s cut off by a sour taste overtaking the taste of chicken- ugh, pickles. That was totally on purpose on her end. Nevermind. He takes back whatever he said before.
“When are you coming back? Clarisse is driving the camp up the wall and someone’s gotta put her in her place. A new place opened up and you owe me and Thalia burgers, so I‘m cashing it in.” The smell of a full happy meal entered his nostrils, and he was suddenly hit with the nostalgia of the three of them and their adventures.
Annabeth began offering him food about two weeks after he ran, and hasn’t stopped since then. Every day during the time he knows camp eats dinner, she offers him a portion of her food into the hearth. Sometimes it’s updating him on her life (“I’m finishing up the plans for the temples of Hermes and Aphrodite. I tried starting on Apollo’s but he’s nowhere to be seen.”), or what’s going on at camp (“Some of the kids from the Aphrodite cabin have been teaming up with the Hermes cabin in their pranks and I never thought they could work so well together.”) but everytime, they end with the hope that he’s happy.
It’s always accompanied by a large portion of food, usually blue too, and the taste of something bittersweet, similar to cranberries and dark chocolate. It always invokes a pang of loss, not unlike when he ends up visiting a lot of monuments and architectural tourist spots, and remembers her egghead facts. She was always the anchor to his wayward ship out on sea, even when they had their last conversation back right before he left.
Annabeth caught him by the straps of his bag just before he passed camp borders. She dragged him into the surrounding forest, and he followed without question, just like every other time they’ve followed each other into danger. He had the feeling this would be the last time he’d do it.
She turned around, her sharp, gray eyes locking into his immediately and her shoulders tense, her posture tall like she was being pulled upwards by a string. It took them almost no time at all to collapse into each other's arms.
The shoulder she was tucked into was becoming wet, and he wasn’t faring any better. “Damn it. Damn it. I just got you back, we were supposed to go to New Rome and have the rest of our lives together.” She let out a frustrated noise before getting choked up again, her cries muffled in his shirt. He only clutched her harder in response.
They stood there until he heard people calling out for Annabeth and him, wondering where they were. Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other until they were only connected by their hands.
“Annabeth, I-I just need you to know that I’m so sorry-” Percy started, but Annabeth was already shaking her head, having none of it.
“No, absolutely not. There’s nothing-none of this is your fault. What are you even trying to apologize for? What you did back in Tartarus? Your ascension? The fact that yet another obstacle comes between us?” She scoffed, tightening her hands around his. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong except do what you needed to to keep us alive, what was necessary, and I’ll never blame you for that.”
At that admission, Percy didn’t know what to say. He was fully ready to take the blame for everything that happened. Every reason they couldn’t be together always stemmed from him, this time is no different. But her insistent assurance in the face of destruction, like every other time in the face of adversity, left him breathless.
“I love you, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” He was missing her already even though she was right in front of him.
She gave a watery smile, her tears reforming, and let go of his hands. “Go. I’ll make up an excuse for you in Olympus why you can’t be there. I’ll always be watching your back, Percy, even when no one else is.”
The voices got closer, and that’s what got him moving. He started moving back, towards camp borders when he stopped. He turned back around. “When you find yourself in need of assistance, or in trouble, or just want some-some company, pray to me. I’ll always answer.”
He turned around before she could answer, making sure she knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer and left camp without looking back, because then he’d lose his resolve and walk right back.
Sometimes, when his soul feels too stretched out, when there’s too many parts of him out in the world fulfilling the responsibilities he’s taken upon himself, he’ll find a small alcove tucked into a mountain and take a nap. It’s not sleeping, not really, but it’s the closest description of it he’s got. Most times, his consciousness is still aware of the real world. He’s able to move around as he leaves his body behind to rest. He always comes back with the strings that were pulling his body taut loosened and he no longer feels the crushing weight of so many lives on his shoulders so deeply.
There are a few rare times, where instead of the cold departure of his spirit leaving exploring the space around him, he’ll be transported through time, looking into futures to come and pasts that can’t be changed. Those are his least favorite slumbers. He always wakes up more tired than he was before, burdened with more knowledge than he wanted to know.
The aftereffects of these dreams continue to haunt him days after he wakes up. The first few times he tried going back out and interacting with other beings after one of these episodes, he was overwhelmed by all the strings of Fate he could see connecting everyone to their loved ones, their birth place, and their deaths. It can come to the point where all he can see is the all-consuming sea of bright red and glittering gold strings, The worst are the crumbling, black strings because those always point to a death. Each time he happens to touch a string, he’ll see the future contained in them. Usually all he saw were deaths, some peaceful, taken in their sleep, and others brutal, usually by someone else’s hand, all tragic. He’s learned to stay by himself for at least a week, just to be safe.
It was during one of his better sleeps, where his consciousness- he started calling them ‘astral projections’ ever since he saw that wizard movie in Hong Kong- is allowed to travel the world as he sleeps that he stumbles upon an odd duo bothering his mom at her blue front door. A prepubescent girl was standing behind a teenage boy, both looking worse for wear, but in completely different directions. The girl looked like she blindly picked out an outfit from her closet, all the pieces clashing against each other. Her glasses were pretty though, so he had to give her credit where it’s due.
The boy however, it’s best he didn’t say much. He’s cute in a pathetic sort of way if you look past the coffee grinds covering his body and his smell, like he’s one more wrong spill from becoming a dumpster himself. He had an acne-ridden face with curly brown hair and a desperate gleam in his eyes disguised behind arrogance, the way people try to convince themselves that their life hasn’t yet fallen apart.
His mom looked faintly amused, but her shoulders were still tense. Probably because the kid claimed himself to be the sun god Apollo and was probably being followed by malicious spirits. He got even closer when he heard his name mentioned.
“Sally Jackson, we are in need of Percy Jackson’s assistance! This is Meg McCaffrey,” the teenage boy said, “a demigod that needs to go to Camp Half-Blood. She helped rescue me from street thugs.”
“Rescue, you say? Why would a god need rescuing? Is this form… not just a, like a gimmick?” She gestured at his beat-up form. Percy was wondering the same thing. He never thought the dude who drove around in a Maserati, had to be the best-looking and most well-kept in the room, would willingly give himself white-heads and be shorter than six feet.
The boy cringed. “I was a god. There’s no need to continue to rub salt in my wounds. I’m well aware of what’s happened. Self-awareness is one of my most abundant qualities, as I’m sure you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She gave him an indulgent smile, one only a mother could give, that he beamed at. “Well, come on in then, I’m not in the business of turning away demigods who need help. I’ll see what I can do about that nose of yours.”
She ushered them into the house, towards the living room where she was working on her novel. “It’s not everyday a god shows up on your doorstep, especially one that’s been missing for six months.” Well, excluding Percy, but no one needs to know that.
Percy followed in behind them, his curiosity getting the better of him. He also wasn’t liking the way Apollo was looking at his mother.
“Six months? It’s been six month since the war?” Apollo looked shocked at that.
“Yes, dear. No one knew where you were during that time. If it’s alright to ask, what happened to you?” Apollo looked vulnerable when she asked this, like he hasn’t had someone ask him what’s wrong for as long as he could remember.
“I-ah, I don’t remember. There seem to be some gaps in my memory.” He admitted.
“Yes, amnesia isn’t the best. Percy’s struggled a lot with his own memory loss, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” She sighed, “Anyways before that, let’s get you both cleaned up and changed and think up of how we can get you to camp before anything disastrous happens over lunch, how does sandwiches and chips with salsa sound?” The girl, Meg, perked up at that and his mom smiled at her before taking Apollo and Meg to the bathroom and her bedroom respectively.
In the meantime, he went to the kitchen to help his mother make lunch. There’s not much he could do as an incorporeal spirit, but by exerting his power a little more than he ought to, he was able to move all the required ingredients from the fridge to the counter, bringing along some knives and getting out their chips bag that he knew his mother saved for special guests.
“Ah, there you are Percy Jackson.” Percy startled at the new voice, addressing him. He turned around and saw Apollo’s mortal form at the entrance of the kitchen. He was looking a lot better than he was before, standing up a lot straighter and his nose no longer taking up half his face.
He can see me? Percy stayed still. Maybe it was a fluke. After all, he was mortal now. Maybe if he was still a god, he’d be able to see him now, but right now he shouldn’t be visible in the physical plane.
“I need to reclaim my throne back on Olympus and I need a demigod’s service to help me on my harrowing quest. That’s why I’ve come for you!” Apollo stared up at him expectantly, like he wanted him to drop everything he’s doing to help him out.
Percy snorted, then started to giggle, the incredulity of what Apollo’s asking of him registering. Apollo looked confused, his shoulders falling.
“What? What’s so funny? Do you find my fall from grace amusing, Percy Jackson?” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“No, but the irony of the situation is too good. Apollo, or do you go by Lester now? Well, the ancient laws of the gods prevent me from directly interfering with the quests of demigods. Really sucks to be on the other side, hmm?” Percy giggled a little more, but his mirth died down when he saw Meg leave the bedroom with his mom.
Her face was scrubbed clean of the grime that was caked on, and her hair has been brushed and cleaned where it was once knotty and frizzy. Her clothes were clean, and went together, and she had a soft smile on her face as she looked up at his mom. He didn’t mind poking a bit of fun at Apollo, he was a four-thousand-and-something-years-old god, and will go right back to Olympus despite whatever he thinks. Zeus wouldn’t let the sun god die, and hopefully because he also doesn’t want his son to die, but he doesn’t have a good track record as a dad.
But the sight of Meg reminds him of what his main goal is as a god: to help demigods, to do what all of the gods have failed to do. And he wasn’t going to let Meg suffer, especially since a pretty thick gold string connects her fate to Apollo’s.
“Gods? You’re not a god, Percy. A powerful demigod, yes, I’ll give you that, but you’re no god. Truly the hubris of some demigods-”
“Percy? Apollo, who are you talking to? No one is in there.” He was cut off by his mom’s confused voice.
“What are you talking about? Percy Jackson is standing right there next to the turkey slices.” Apollo gestured wildly in Percy’s direction. Both of them were still confused, looking around the kitchen trying to see who he was talking about.
“Apollo, are you sure you’re all there? There’s literally no one here other than us. Are you hallucinating?” Meg looked suspicious now, her snazzy new jumper scrunching up as she crossed her arms.
Apollo was looking back and forth incredulously between Percy and the duo that just entered before directing his attention to his mom.
“Sally, where is your son right now?”
His mom gave him a weird look. “He’s not here right now. No one’s seen him since he ascended right after the war. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. Percy isn’t here and he probably won’t be able to take you to camp. I’ve called Chiron to arrange the-”
Apollo cut her off, waving his hands. “I don’t understand. He ascended? Why? When? How?”
She sighed, patting Meg on the head as she passed, “We don’t exactly know, there have been a few theories but-” She cut herself off when she saw the sandwich ingredients arranged on the counter just how she prefers it. “Apollo,” Suspicious, she looked around the room, “You said you see Percy in here?”
Apollo rolled his eyes, his whole body following. “Yes, He’s standing right there with a stupidly smug smirk on his face. Neither of you believe me of course, don’t know why, I am the god of truth.”
His mom let out a long suffering sigh in response, muttering under her breath. “Well, how about you guys help me with lunch and we’ll talk some more after we eat, yeah?”
Sally Jackson roped him and Meg into making an assembly line of sandwich constructors, reminding Apollo of the times where he and his sister used to help his mother with her garden and go on hunting trips together. He should remember to visit her when he has the time.
Sally must have had some godly blood in her to transform Meg from a gremlin child to someone who knew what style was. When he first saw her, he was struck with the memory of a past love, what her daughter might have possibly looked like… if she ever got the chance to grow old enough. He shook those thoughts away. Going down that route never bred good thoughts, and he wasn’t in the mood to burst into tears in the Jackson kitchen.
Speaking of Jacksons, there’s the interesting case of Percy Jackson’s ascension. He can’t lie and say he didn’t see this as a possible future for him, one of the many paths that were open to him, but when Percy rejected godhood in front of the Olympian council, he dismissed the idea, even if he always saw that one golden string emerging from the small of his back. That door was already closed.
When he first saw Percy in the kitchen, something about him seemed off, even to his mortal body, like something in the world was shifted. The world changed when Percy was born; the echoes of doom and prosperity rattling the fake bones of his body. He felt the same echoes when he first saw Percy when he was thirteen, and again when he claimed the prophecy for himself, the promise as strong as the prophecy itself. However, this shift was something different. It was like he got used to the world shifted two degrees over to the left and it just righted itself when he looked at Percy again in the kitchen, standing with equal parts of ease and vigilance, the kind of stance you only get when you’ve been raised as a war soldier to die since childhood.
Now, he knew why. Percy’s always been more divine than he tried fooling everyone, including himself, to believe. So he’s not particularly surprised that Fate took the matter in their own hands and forced the choice for him. Even though he can’t see his divine form yet (and he can’t wait until he’s restored to see the stars that lay beneath his skin), he can tell that godhood suits him a lot more than mortality ever did.
Percy floated around them, dropping snarky comments on how he arranged the turkey, and telling him the best way to cut open the sandwich so it doesn’t tear apart. Soon, they tucked into their food, followed by Sally bringing the chips and her “famous seven-layer dip,” according to Percy and he was right. Meg and he let out satisfied sighs in sync, falling back on their chairs. He’s never felt so full and happy before.
“So, Apollo,” Sally reentered the room, wiping her hands on an apron over her pregnant belly. “Since you’re the only one able to see and speak to Percy, has he said anything about your request?”
“He said because he’s a god now, he can’t help us on this quest so we’re on our own. Had a good laugh about it too.” Apollo responded bitterly. After all he’s done for Percy, the least he could do is offer a bit of help. Although, Apollo would have probably reacted the same, laughing dismissively at the troubles of demigods. What’s one life in the sea of beings he’s seen born and die over four thousand years?
“We also have to worry about those spirits that are following you. I’d much rather have them follow a trail than come sniffing around here.”
“Woah, I said I can’t join you on the whole quest, but I’ll get you to Camp Half-Blood. I’ll pay you back for Fred.”
Both Jackson’s spoke at the same time, and their voices overlapped, so Apollo ended up not understanding either.
“Okay, wait. One at a time. What did you say, Percy?” He pointed towards Percy.
“I said that while I can’t join you on your trip, I don’t particularly want to see either of you have a hard time getting to camp. I’ll repay you back for Fred. I’ll help you guys get to camp.” Percy shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, and probably to him, it wasn’t.
“What? What did he say?” Meg nagged from his side.
“He said he’d get us to camp. And, pray tell, how are we going? You’re not exactly sentient right now, so you can’t drive us.” Apollo redirected his attention back on Percy.
Percy had a mischievous smile on his face. He didn’t like what it implied, or the twinkle in his eyes. “How do you guys feel about flying?”