Chapter Text
The day was sunny, the air crisp with humidity and faint wisps of musk as demigods trained. The sound of swords beating against wood bark audible, Percy was sweating, his skin shining and tan against the suns unrelenting heat. He panted like a dog desperate for water after a long walk or excessive walk. The wood was scarred and bare from the recessive beatings it had received.
"Gods dam it all." He gasped out, his hand was bruised and hard after clenching his hand around a wood sword so tightly.
No one dared to ask why he was in such a mood, only Annabeth could, and she was off to Rome University, he was on a sick day. He had gotten in, he had gotten the recommendation letters from various gods. Ganymede, Hecate, the list went on. However, the words always rang in his head, 'Was this all worth it? Am I truly a pawn?' These words always rang in his head, everyday, every quest, every battle that he fought for the gods. Only for the same thing to happen. They would keep to their promises for a few months, before falling back into their old habits. Ruining everything that Percy had tried so hard to stand for.
'Care for your children!' A simple request, right? They had, being more active, before forgetting all over again. Ignoring their own blood. Chasing nymphs and maiden women. Taking no or yes for an answer, that sometimes they wouldn't oblige by. Question their honor or test them the slightest, say the simple 'No.' And you'd find yourself like Cassandra of Troy. Rejected, hurt, depressed, Cursed.
He tossed the wooden sword onto the ground roughly, uncaringly. The wood was splintered and battered, remnants from Percy's thoughts, none good. He was starting to understand Luke the more he grew. Percy had made a difference, but was it big? Was it worth all those deaths of children who would not live to see yet another day? He walked toward Cabin 3, The Poseidon cabin, his father, or was he really? On shaky legs he stepped through the doorframe. Fatigue washing over him from so much training, or rather say, lashing out. Percy ran a hand through his black hair, the black curly locks tangling around his hands almost defiantly.
He hastily took off his clothes, already setting on the shower to blazing hot, yet it did not affect him. Yet another reminder of his parentage. A son of Poseidon. He wasn't supposed to be here. He shook the thoughts away and stepped into it, the boiling and steaming water not bothering him in the slightest as he washed himself of all the filth he had acquired. Soot dusted his legs and arms, some even on his chest. He was filthy, in more ways than one.
Percy didn't know wether it was the steam making him dizzy from not getting enough oxygen, but he clutched his head with one hand, the other clinging onto the wall almost desperately. His breaths coming out in gasps despite not doing any labor. He felt like he was going to faint. And naturally, with his luck, he did, his legs failing him as he fell onto the shower floor. Water droplets making their way down his face and into his eyes, clouding his vision only temporarily until they fluttered shut.
**
Percy woke up to the smell of sweat and yet something sweet. On a bed certainly not his own. His clothes were changed into a loose light grey tunic, the color sticking out against his bronzed skin. He still felt dizzy, sure, but it subdued to subtle motion sickness. He swung his legs over side a bed, it was a bed right? It looked different. More like a couch with a thin mattress over it. There was window, rather a hole in the wall. And as he looked out, his seagreen eyes widened.
People laughed in camaraderie, woman spinning like tops. A few in rich colored chitons of warm hues. People of all different kinds. The smell of sweat came from the crowd danced to the sound of the lyre and bards singing poems and hymns to the gods. Everyone was in clothing out of the norm. But it seemed to be the standard here. Everything seemed back in time...However that was impossible. Right?
How did he get here?
Percy hastily ran down the steps, almost tripping once he stepped onto a faulty wooden corner of said steps. He cursed as his foot got stuck, the wood splintering against his skin, he had to admit it hurt. Red and pink marks forming around his ankle. Once he finally got his foot out, he stumbled off the stairs, falling in the process, and landing on his face against the hard wooden floor.
As he looked up, groaning and complaining. He saw tapestries of myth about the gods, the Marriage of Hera and Zeus, abduction of Ganymede, the birth of Apollo, and a couple others he couldn't name. They were all expertly crafted with soft silk and rich colors. He glanced out the door, people still dancing, dirt kicking up under their feet, wine spilt, and faces flushed. What kind of party exactly was this? And what for? 'Focus', he chastised himself, 'You need to find familiar faces, you couldn't have come here alone. Fate has done this for a reason.' He repeated, as if trying to assure himself, even when he knew this situation was very complex, he didn't choose to come here.
He didn't understand where he was, or why he was here. But if he knew one thing about the gods... They sure did like their trouble. And The Fates loved a cruel twist of well, fate. What he did not know, was that fate was going to be crueler than ever.