Chapter Text
“I want to schedule a meeting with Diana,” Percy says quietly. He can’t call her Wonder Woman anymore, not even in his head. There was nothing wondrous about missing two wars and leaving children to fight in your stead.
Tim hums, the sound vibrating where Percy’s head is nestled in the curve of Tim’s shoulder. “If that’s what you want, we can see if she can come to the Cave. I just–” he hesitates. “Is this going to be a conversation or a screaming match? Not that you don’t deserve to be angry–”
“Tim,” Percy sighs. “You’re fine. I don’t think it’ll go to screaming unless Diana tries to argue and absolve herself of guilt. She just needs to understand–”
His voice cracks. “She needs to know the cost of missing two wars, in leaving children to fight or die or both.”
“I understand,” Tim says softly. “Do you want us there?”
Percy hesitates. “If you guys are okay with it and want to come, you’re welcome to be there. Plus,” he added, “it’s not like I can kick you out of your own Batcave.”
“I’ll ask and set up a time. And, Percy,” Tim says, guiding Percy’s chin up to make eye contact, “we’re all here for you. We are all firmly behind you.”
Percy is quiet for a moment. Then, “can I kiss you?”
Tim’s response is to close his eyes and guide his face closer. Percy rarely feels safe anymore, but this is just as much a home to him as the Jackson-Blofis apartment in New York and Cabin Three at Camp Half-Blood.
Tim tastes like coffee. Percy knows he himself tastes like seasalt, and always will.
When they finally break apart, Percy promises, “I’ll even explain anything you have questions on after the meeting.”
Tim, who has shown boundless yet respectful interest in anything Godly, grins in response.
…
“Diana,” Percy hears Bruce greet from across the Cave. Diana says something back, but Percy chooses to focus on Tim’s hand on the small of his back. It still sends a jolt through him some days, despite the Curse of Achilles being washed away by the Little Tiber, but, more than that, it’s incredibly grounding.
Call it the child soldier in him, but something about having a warm hand on his biggest weakness clears the haziness in his mind. He wouldn’t call himself battle-ready–no more than his instincts constantly demanded of him–but it definitely brought a certain clarity.
‘Okay?’ Cass signs from across the Cave. She isn’t wearing her suit; none of them are, save Bruce. Percy manages a weak smile, shoving his emotions into a box somewhere in his mind. He imagines it looks like Pandora’s pithos, and pictures it melting in Hestia’s flames.
Spine straight, he turns around, meeting Diana’s eyes evenly. She bows, and Percy cringes. “Perseus.”
“It’s Percy,” Percy replies tersely. Diana nods. An awkward silence settles over the group.
Alfred, bless him, intercedes with his typical grace. “Miss Diana, Masters, might we move this discussion to a more comfortable area?”
No one responds, but they all follow him to a side room in the Cave. Percy keeps his hand tightly intertwined with Tim’s.
The Bats spread out in a semicircle with Percy in the middle, an obvious show of support. Percy’s spine stiffens into the posture of a Roman praetor, a Greek general. “Well?” he asks. “What’s the excuse for this war?”
Diana swallows. “My mother, Hippolyta. She forbade all Amazons from giving aid after Hylla’s Amazons joined the conflict.”
“That’s Queen Hylla,” Percy snapped. “So, your mother just told you to condemn a group of children to their deaths, and–what? You just listened?”
He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Do you know how helpful your assistance could’ve been? My cousin, Nico di Angelo–”
Percy doesn’t say our cousin. No demigod will claim Diana as their own.
“--nearly faded into the shadows himself because he was trying to get a forty-foot tall statue of Athena back to Camp in time to stop a war between the Romans and the Greeks on top of the war with Gaea. By the end of the journey,” he hissed, “Nico was partly transparent and only sometimes tangible. Do you know how it feels to try to hug your little cousin and your hands go right through him?”
Diana blanches. Percy doesn’t pause. “He was fourteen. Tell me, Diana, do you still praise Zeus?”
Diana hesitates, expecting a trap. She walks into it anyways. “I–of course, he is my father, and a higher power than I.”
“Nico and his sister Bianca were born in the 1930s, but put into stasis at the Lotus Hotel after Zeus struck down their mother for the crime of having children with Hades. When they finally came out, they still thought FDR was the president. Nobody at Camp worships Zeus besides Jason Grace, and he prays to Jupiter, anyway.”
“The Lotus Eaters,” Diana murmured, recognition sparking in her eyes. “I admit my father has his flaws, but–”
“Flaws like familicide, maybe,” Jason commented, his eyes hard. Percy felt his gut twist in guilt, but he refused to acknowledge it. Diana wasn't worthy of being anyone’s idol.
“Uhh–question?” Steph spoke up, raising a hand. “Lotus Eaters? Can we get some context for us normies over here?”
Percy snorted at the idea of any Bat–or any Gothamite, really–being a ‘normie’. “The Lotus Eaters are a myth seen in the Odyssey. In modern times, they run a hotel and casino in Las Vegas where time slows down. You can get stuck in there really easily, trust me,” Percy said. He squeezed Tim’s hand–a silent I’ll tell you later.
Percy shifted, leaning forward in his seat. “After they got out, Annabeth, Grover, Thalia and I tracked them to a boarding school, where Annabeth was captured by the Titan Atlas. She was tricked under the sky as bait for Artemis.”
Diana gasped, her face ashen. “The physical strain–not even considering the mental toll–”
Percy knew that Diana knew all of these quests. He also knew there was a difference between hearing about it from a secondhand source versus a firsthand one. “That’s where we got our matching white streaks,” he said, reaching up to grab the few pale strands of his hair. “Of course, ‘Beth held it a lot longer than I did.”
“To rescue them, we were given a quest. Now, listen–before this quest, I was by no means an inexperienced demigod. I was certainly traumatized to Hell and back–well, not literal Hell quite yet. This quest, though, was where things went from bad to worse.”
“Bianca di Angelo was the first casualty of the Second Titan War.”
The silence rings loud. Steph’s face is unusually solemn, while Cass signs, simply, I’m sorry. Percy nods in thanks. Jason gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the glow of the Pits. Bruce looks like one of Medusa’s victims with how still he went. Tim presses closer into Percy’s side.
Diana looks stricken. Percy can’t bring himself to feel bad.
“Her death was prophesied, but that doesn’t make it any better. ‘One shall be lost in the land without rain’. The other death foretold on that quest was Zoë Nightshade, who had served as Artemis’ Lieutenant for thousands of years. ‘One shall perish by a parent's hand’ meant that she had known she was going to die since the Oracle had first opened her mouth.”
“The battle at the top of Mount Othrys was widely regarded as the first real conflict of the Second Titanomachy.”
Bruce, in a rare display of emotion, asks, “how old was she?
Percy draws in a shaky breath, then meets his eyes. “Twelve.”
The first tear slips down Diana’s cheek. Percy can’t empathize with her, can’t feel anything but the aching numbness of grief.
“I believe we ought to take a break here,” Alfred says, the slightest quaver in his voice.
The room breaks. Diana rises and leaves the room, presumably to recollect her composure. The others file out, their voices a low, incomprehensible murmur in his ear.
“Hey,” Tim breathes, close to his ear. Percy lets the warrior’s posture drop, burying his head in Tim’s shoulder.
“I shouldn’t be so distraught over this,” Percy says, his breath ghosting over Tim’s collarbones. “It was years ago and–” his voice breaks. Tim pulls him in closer.
“Was this the girl you were talking about when you were talking about promises?” Tim doesn’t need to specify which conversation, despite Percy being half-delirious during it. He nods mutely. “Trauma doesn’t ever go away, and her death was not your fault.”
Percy takes a deep breath, centering himself. He doesn’t affirm Tim’s statement, and Tim doesn't push. Maybe he knows that if he does, Percy will shatter. “Do you mind if I go jump in your waterfall? Or is that a Batcave taboo?”
Tim snorts. “All yours.”
“Come with? I can dry you off instantly.”
“Deal.”
…
Once everyone was reassembled, Percy starts again. “What do you know about the Seven? Titles, abilities, feats, anything.”
The Bats collectively lean in. It’s not that Percy hasn’t talked about his quests. Rather, he mentions them in passing and rarely expands on them other than to tell a story.
“Well,” Diana starts. “From the Roman Legion, there was Frank Zhang, a shapeshifter son of Lord Mars, and Hazel Levesque, a daughter of Lord Pluto who wielded precious metals and the Mist. From the Greek Camp, there was Leo Valdez, a fire-wielding son of Lord Hephaestus, and Piper McLean, a charmspeaking daughter of Lady Aphrodite, as well as Annabeth Chase, daughter of Lady Athena. She is best known for being the Architect of Olympus. Jason Grace, a son of King Zeus, is known for his skill as a lightening-wielder. Then, of course, there’s you.”
Percy nods begrudgingly, then steels himself for what he is about to say. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me and Annabeth’s most notorious title.”
Diana nods, refusing to meet his gaze. “Survivor of Tart–”
“Do not invoke his name,” Percy snaps, jolting to his feet. “I have faced him once and I have no desire to return to the Pit.” For a second, he can feel the sulfur in his lungs and the firewater burning down his esophagus. Forcefully dispelling images of a wailing goddess of misery and the horrifying visage of Night, he slowly sat back down.
“Him?” Diana questions, bracing for a painful answer.
Percy snorts humorlessly. “‘Beth and I had the dubious honor of seeing the Pit in human form for the first time in millenia.”
“Dear gods…” Diana whispers, horrified.
Jason is the one to break the tense silence. “By the Pit, you mean the Greek prison-Hell where the ancient enemies of the Gods are imprisoned.”
Percy shoots him a wan smile. “Got it in one. Don’t forget it’s where all monsters go to reform. Annabeth and I fell into the Pit–which is also the domain of a primordial god–and had to fight our way out. The only three demigods who have ever made it out of the Pit are me, Annabeth, and Nico. Nico was dragged through Hell after he was captured. ‘Beth and I had to close the Doors of Death.”
“The Doors of Death? That sounds…ominous,” Dick remarked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.
“The Doors are an elevator that allows monsters to journey to the surface. My first quest in this war, we had to unchain Thanatos himself. During this one, we had to unchain the Doors.”
“Do you see, now?” Percy says, looking Diana in the eyes. “Do you see how unacceptable it is for children to be fighting these battles? By the gods, Octavian shoved himself in a cannonball and launched himself at Gaea! Do you know how many deaths could’ve been avoided in both wars? Lee Fletcher! Silena Beauregard! Micheal Yew! Luke Castellan! Bob! Damasen!”
Diana was curled in on herself, shoulders shaking. Percy wasn’t done. “When I was twelve, I challenged Ares to a duel. When I was thirteen, I watched gods argue over whether I should be killed for just existing. When I was sixteen, I turned down godhood in favor of the gods doing better by their children. And you can’t even defy your mother?”
Percy took a deep breath in, releasing his unconscious control over the Batcave pipes. He took a minute to really take Diana in. She was hunched over, shaking, with red, swollen eyes. She did not look like a warrior demigoddess; she just looked pitiful.
‘Good’, a small, vicious part of him hissed. The same violent, destructive part of Percy that urged him to stuff poison down Akhlys’ throat until she stopped thrashing.‘She deserves it. Some ‘hero’, indeed.’
Percy had only been with the Romans for a little over a week, but that was more than enough time to adopt Roman warrior mannerisms. Drawing his shoulders straight back and clasping his hands behind his back, Percy stood. He could almost feel the phantom weight of a praetor’s cape fluttering around his back.
“Diana of Themysceira,” Percy announced formally. Diana straightened in response. “By decree of Praetors Frank Zhang and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, you are banned from Camp Jupiter and New Rome.”
“By decree of Lieutenant Thalia Grace and Lady Artemis of the Hunt, you will find no sanctuary among the Hunters of Artemis.” Diana blanched at both names–her half-sisters forsaking her was a powerful message. Artemis especially, was taking a bold stance by firmly placing herself against Diana.
“By decree of Queen Hylla of the Amazons, you are not welcome among the modern Amazons, and they wish to have no contact with Themysceira.” Diana didn’t seem very surprised at this one. Hylla had alluded to a long-standing grudge between the two Amazonian factions.
“Finally, by decree of Chiron and Lord Dionysus as well as the unanimous agreement of the Head Counselors, you are not welcome in Camp Half-Blood.”
“I–what? Unanimous? How–” Diana stutters, her eyes wide. Percy doesn’t sit back down.
Instead, he mutters a quiet “excuse me” and all but runs to the hidden staircase leading up to the Manor. (Not the elevator, never the elevator. He hopes the Waynes understand his aversion, now.)
Chatter rises behind him, but Percy doesn’t stop to listen. He just goes straight for the pool and sinks like a stone to the bottom. He lets himself get wet, lets the water hum to him like an old friend.
If he cries, the grief catching up to him, the water doesn’t tell.