Chapter Text
By now, you know that Percy never wanted to be a halfblood. You know that he wishes that he could just go back to his mom and live a peaceful life.
But you also know he can’t do that. Because the gods wouldn’t let him.
He has friends now, at least. He has a beautiful, amazing girlfriend. He knows people who understand the situation he’s been in.
And yet he stills wakes up in the middle of the night with everything feeling terribly wrong. And it always has something to do with that damn sword.
After Luke died, he left his sword to Percy. Percy for the life of him could not figure out why. Grover? Sure. Thalia, of course. Annabeth? First choice.
Nowhere on that list did Percy see himself. And yet there it was. Sitting in the otherwise empty cabin where Percy kept all of his personal belongings. Who would’ve thought the weapon of his mentor who betrayed him would sit with all of Percy’s greatest accomplishments.
After Luke, and subsequently, Kronos, died, the sword went back to its original form. It was no longer a scythe, but Percy could feel the remnants of its past form. Sometimes Percy went by it and he felt that awful dread that he felt when facing Kronos. Other times, it felt like it had slowed time, just enough to bother Percy, but not enough for him to truly believe it.
He didn’t know why he kept the sword. When he had first gotten it, he had wanted to throw it into the lake and bury it, to forget about Luke’s betrayal.
But he couldn’t. Because no matter what Percy tried to convince himself, Luke’s approval meant a lot to him. Luke had been the first friend Percy made at camp, at least the first friend Percy had thought he had made. Luke seemed so perfect, and Percy wanted nothing more than to look good in his eyes. Luke had been the big brother Percy never had. He had convinced himself that if he had known Luke all along, then Smelly Gabe couldn’t have done anything.
That with Luke, he was safe.
And Percy was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.
When Luke revealed himself as the traitor, something broke inside of Percy. He couldn’t believe the boy he had put so much trust in could do something so cruel.
The worst part was Percy understood where Luke had been coming from. It made Percy wonder if that was his own doing, or seeds placed in his head by Luke. What if without Luke, Percy would’ve been the perfect little soldier of the gods? What if he never learned to question them and he snapped up the chance at godhood?
Percy believed he wasn’t like that, but the doubt always sat uncomfortably in his throat. It sat right there with the thought he was doing the wrong thing. What if by helping the gods, he was only hurting his friends and loved ones? What if Luke had been right?
Was the sword just Luke final attempt at bringing Percy over to his side? The final bit of psychological warfare before Luke died?
It didn’t matter. Percy had Riptide, he had no need for a second sword. Even if he had grown into it, and even if Backbiter felt nearly as comfortable to hold as Riptide.
Sometimes Percy would look in the mirror and see Luke smiling back at him. Whenever Percy was training younger kids, he would hear Luke’s voice instructing him. If he stayed in one place to long, he could hear Luke showing him the camp.
The forest was the worst. If Percy let his guard down, memories of Luke would weasel their way to the front of his mind. Because that was wear he had talked with Luke the most. That was where Luke had slowly tried to convince Percy to turn to his side. That was where Luke had mentored Percy and taught him things outside of fighting. That was where Percy realized Luke was the traitor.
Percy was sure he wasn’t the only person who felt this way. Luke had too big of a presence for it to be possible.
In a way it made it hurt more. If Luke was this mentor figure to everyone and Percy was no one special to him, why would Luke give him Backbiter?
It was probably just a ploy. All Luke had wanted was the get the impressionable, powerful little son of Poseidon on his side. He hadn’t actually cared about Percy. Not in the way he cared about everyone else. Not in the way Luke cared for Annabeth.
It didn’t matter if Percy viewed Luke as a big brother, even now. Because Luke would never see him that way. The only family Luke had was himself. And the only person he cared about outside of himself was his baby sister, Annabeth.
Occasionally, Percy would have this bitter feeling knowing Annabeth had what he had wanted. Then he would feel absolutely horrible for those feelings. He wished to be Annabeth? To go through everything she had? He was just being self-centered.
Percy wanted to believe that was an effect of the sword that hung above his bed. But he knew it wasn’t.
The feeling that Luke was always watching didn’t leave with time. His voice never left Percy’s head. When Percy would practice sword fighting late at night, he could hear Luke going through the motions with him.
The Greatest Swordsman in 300 years.
That was Percy’s title to bear now.
It was enough to make Percy pick up Backbiter. It was near midnight when he did, and everyone else was asleep. He took Backbiter and put Riptide away in his pocket, and then walked out to the forest. There he sat on the rock where he and Luke would sit and talk.
“What is it you want Luke? When will you leave me alone? Everyone else seems to have gotten over your death but me. When will it end?” Percy asked, staring at his own reflection in the sword.
After a couple of minutes, Percy threw Backbiter to the ground. This was useless! It had been six months since Luke died, and he clearly wasn’t leaving Percy’s head anytime soon.
Percy was about to storm off and leave Backbiter in the dirt, but his heart panged painfully at the thought. He turned around to pick it up, inspecting the sword.
Half steel, half celestial bronze. It could harm mortals and monsters alike. It wasn’t a perfect fit like Riptide was, but that could change if he trained with it more. Percy would never stop using Riptide though, it meant too much to him. But Percy would like to have another weapon to fight mortals, just to be safe. The gods knew that there had been mortals that worked with Luke.
As Percy was thinking about the possibilities when he heard Luke whisper in the back of his mind,
“Do you remember the rules I taught you about sword fighting Percy?”
Percy tensed. He didn’t remember this conversation with Luke. He did remember Luke’s rules though.
Understand warfare. The more you know, it will only benefit you. If you know everything your opponent can do, you know how to counter it.
Keep a strong defense. Always guard yourself. It doesn’t matter how good your opponent is if your defense is better. You don’t need fancy moves, you just need to time it right.
Master disarming techniques. An opponent without a weapon isn’t an opponent.
Use your opponent’s knowledge and strength against them. If they’re any good, they’ll know different techniques. They’ll be analyzing everything you could do, and expect your next move. Throw them off. Do something a little crazy, and suddenly everything they thought they knew is useless.
Always control the flow of the fight, Percy. If you direct your opponent and not the other way around, it’ll be much easier for you to find moments to strike.
Luke had practically drilled those rules into Percy. Every time they worked together(which was a lot, mainly because Percy would find Luke during free time and ask him to teach Percy more), Luke’s voice was a constant. Percy knew these things by heart. He used them in every time he fought.
“There was one other thing Percy. Come on. I know you remember it.” Luke said. Percy whipped around. What the fuck? This was definitely not a memory. Was Percy being haunted? He swore to the gods, he would march right down to Hades and—
“Always know where your opponent is.” It was the first thing Luke had told them. “Only once you identify who your real opponent is can the fight start.”
Percy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What was going on? What was he not seeing?
Before Percy could fully process his surroundings, he glanced down at Backbiter. In it’s reflection, he saw Luke standing behind him. But behind Luke was…
Shit.