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Chapter Text

To love and be loved is both a virtue and vice as not even gods can live forever— even immortals are not exempt from death and it's cold clutches. We learn from Hades, or Pluto if you rather, that death is a certainty in the end much like love. It is rare to go through life and live without being loved— it is likewise impossible to live and not die. To love and be loved, and die all the same, is a tragedy most can understand, but to be loved by an immortal, by a god—there is no greater tragedy.

Very few mortals can escape unscathed after falling for a god, or more often, a god falling for them. Many loose themselves to the all encompassing emotion, the overwhelming lust in their brain and feeling of butterflies awakening in their stomach folds. Many like to blame this on Aphrodite, the face of love and lady of the doves though the true one to blame would be her son. Eros is the one true god of love, the immortal blessed and cursed to watch the mortals flounder over how to cope with such intensities.

It had become a hateful and bitter game to the divine being over the eons— displacing his anger at the loss of his wife onto others. For if even the gods of love couldn't find happiness, why should anyone else? His mother, trapped in a loveless marriage to Hephaestus—carrying on an affair with the god of war for eons now, and himself, forever forced to go from bed to bed in the hopes of filling the loneliness of loosing his own wife.

Even gods could die, and so could their wives—perhaps, that is the reasoning for his meddling in others affairs. Hades would argue that even his meddling wouldn't have stopped natures due course of life, love and death, but Eros was known to overlook the specificities. If he could not live forever with his wife at his side, then neither could others. He would live with his general bitterness by trifling others good fortune. After all, it's a fine line between love and hate and Eros very much enjoyed toeing it every so often. 

There was Medusa, who had bewitched the God of the Sea and paid the ultimate price by tainting the stones of Athena's temple. She never recovered from her tumble, falling into the bitterness many now know of a woman scorned— with eyes that could turn any man or woman to stone. Perhaps, Eros had persuaded the Wisdom Goddess that evening, or nocked an arrow far too heavy to plunge into the chaotic Poseidon's chest, nonetheless those involved paid heavily on the misstep in relations. With Medusa cursed and forever in hatred of her once lover, Athena forever resentful and hating on the unnerving Sea God, and Poseidon equally despising that of the Godess of Wisdom and Minor God of Love. Where love once stewed hate evolved, and there was nothing more Eros liked to create and meddle with.

He liked think of himself as a chaotic puppeteer, pulling and tugging at the strings of fate so delicately intertwined by the Three Fates. If a few strings snapped and snagged along the way, well— that was the Three Fatws issue in the end, not his. He wasn't the master of prophecies and pre-determined destinies he was but the God of Love with a bitter and cold heart, an immortal encased in ice and devoid of empathy to those left hanging.

Truly, thousands of stories and poems could be written of, most of those once lovers of Zeus and later repented on by Hera, his immortal wife, regarding the tragedies of loving a god. Yet, that is not the reason for this tragedy—not the purpose of it's creation.

No, the tragedy that is to be focused on is that of a lesser knowing. One few have heard before, and for those who have never retell it for it's sheer despicableness. For not only did a god loose his love, but a child lost his mother and later his identity. For you see, in all of the god’s follies with love and death never has a child been forced to bear witness of the act, and squandered of his choices in fate. Prophecies and fate work in mysterious and unknowing ways, like that of love and death—though admittedly interwoven in their design. The only certainty to all those listed was that no matter what anyone attempted, each would come to pass in given time.

No god was above death as eventually we all repent for our sins, and no immortal could outrun destiny. No hero could defy all odds or escape the tragedy of their stories. It all repeated in an endless circle of history. Life, love and death—never one without the other.

There is nothing more tragic than loving a god, but it is equally as tragic to be bore of one. Ask any hero in any myth or story of the ancient times—it is the hero that pays the price, and the mortal lover who is condemned a sinner. Tragedy always befalls those who damn themselves for the immortals that house golden ichor for blood. Ask Medusa, ask the wife of Eros, ask the many lover’s of Zeus and those condemned by his wife of the heavens.

Though if the mortals are to be blamed, their godly children are equally so—it is blasphemous to think of drinking the blood of a god, even more so to procreate with one. The heroes of ancient times, like that of Jason, Achilles, Hercules or Odessyus— they all learned this bitter tasting fact. It is tragic to love a god, and a hero— the child of the divine always pays the price for their creation.

Perseus Jackson was just another child damned to this bitter truth. The son of a god, the child of a mortal mother who condemned herself to a tragic end. He was riddled with misfortune the day of his conception and would be until the day of his death. After all, to love and be loved is both a virtue and vice, much like to live and never die—though that in itself is not possible either. Even gods can die, heroes and mortals all just the same. Death is a change of conditions for the living, not the end. Perseus Jackson knew this well, though that didn't make his life any less tragic in the end.

Sally Jackson had been a loved woman, holding darkness and sadness as forever burdens deep within her chest. She had been dealt a hand of cards so misfortunate that the few moments of joy she was given were few and far between. She had been orphaned as a young child, sent to live away with her recluse uncle whom was terminally ill and paranoid of all things divine. When he finally passed on the eve of her twenty-first birthday she was left with nothing, and that too was another misfortune on her part.

She had been the one to care for him for years, to spend every penny of her meager earnings as a waitress in the hopes of finding some cure to his sickness and mangled mind. Cancer didn't just rot away his body, but his spirit too—it seemed only logical that depression would set in once the barriers came down. Sally Jackson had prayed to any god listening that she wouldn't loose the only living member of her family— like most she was left nothing but a wake to attend either way.

The gods were cruel in that sense, listening but never acting, gambling and watching the misfortunes that fell onto the mortals below them like some twisted television show. Though one god did act, one most forgotten and labelled as a warning and myth in the ancient stories. Poseidon had been a beam of light, an ace slipped into the woman's terrible hand of cards, but even that was not built to last. They were destined to be apart, mortal and immortal—they could never coexist in their joint panes of existence.

But Poseidon had acted, like most god’s wouldn't in his place and gave the woman a small light in her gloomy horizon to keep her steady, to give her strength. The gift of a child, her son, her only family member—Perseus Jackson. He would be a hero, as all children of the gods were meant to be, but tragedy would befall him like all hero's did. Poseidon had warned the mortal woman of this fact but she had not cared. Begging and pleading to keep this small ray of light to herself, she had loved Perseus more than life itself and that would be her downfall—Poseidon and Sally Jackson both knew it.

Poseidon had loved that of her, more than he had any other mortal woman. She was fierce in her loyalty, compassionate and loving in a world that tore all that she cared for and destroyed everything in it's wake. Perhaps, it wasn't the gods that were cruel but the world, yet it was easier to place the blame on a who, rather than a what.

Poseidon knew the danger he was offering the woman, the danger he was bestowing on his illegitimate child—that his brother Zeus had forbade such acts. No children were to be bore to either himself, Poseidon or their wayward brother Hades. It was a pact made, a law— their children were too powerful, too reckless with their abilities and dangerous to their existence. They could save the world or burn it down at the flip of a coin, always going one of the two extremes and never the lessers.

Yet, despite knowing this, he gave Sally Jackson what she so desperately craved on a whim as he had watched and admired her from afar. He gave the mortal woman of his affections a family, one shred of light in the never ending darkness of her world.

This too was a tragedy in the making.

Perseus Jackson had been born in mid-August inside a small hospital not far from the coast side in the middle of a hurricane. Storm born is what the nurses had proclaimed him to be, screaming late in the morning as he took his first breaths. The doctors on call had claimed that he would be chaotic and wild from being born in such extreme circumstances—Sally Jackson hadn't disagreed.

He looked very little like her, all pale and gangly limbs and a mop of chaotic black hair. Even his eyes, barely lasting longer than a day on newborn blue before settling into a set of sea green irises. Sally Jackson had hoped for a boy with brown hair, curly and waved like hers with soft blue eyes—never had she thought him to become the carbon copy of his immortal father.

It seemed that even her most minuscule of wishes couldn't be granted by the cruel world she lived in. She loved him though— from his wailing at all hours, or quiet giggles when trying soft food for the first time. With every smile and scream she adored him more so just as any mother would—it was instinctive and all that she had ever wanted. Perhaps, she regretted falling for a god as she knew the day she had that it would end with her tragic end but in those moments, with her softly cooing son with far too much energy for a small being, she smiled. She smiled at the little gift she had been given, her light and joy in a world of darkness.

It was tragic that her life was cut short, that she had never been given the days to watch he son grow and prosper into the hero and man she knew he would become. The storms had grown more violent over the summers of Perseus' sixth birthday, with lightning strikes and hurricanes as the sea waged war against the skies. Sally had knew her life was slowly coming to an end, Poseidon had warned her of his vengeful brother and the pact they had shared. It had been what they fought about most in their secluded cabin at Montauk.

Poseidon hadn't wanted anything more to fall onto her already weighed down shoulders, for any more burdens and darkness to drag her down into that chasm hole in her chest. Yet, Sally had fought against it—screaming at the man that she had fondly come to love, that she deserved a family, that she wanted and yearned for a child. For someone to be her own. They had fought for most of their time together, the god often flickering between his conflicted personas as they did.

Sally had never cared for his Roman aspect, finding him far to sharp around the edges with little redeeming qualities. While Greek he was loose lipped and relaxed in most things—reminding her of calm seas and sea foam, Neptune had reminded her of the storms at sea. The ones capsizing entire ships to their watery deathbeds, to hurricanes that flattened entire coastlines in seconds. Neptune had always been volatile and vicious in his display of power, Poseidon comforting and in control of his temper before exploding as the final thread was cut.

Though as vicious as Neptune could be he had been the one most collected over the conundrum, the level head towards keeping Perseus safe from his vindictive brother of the skies. Like most secrets however, the truth was found out and they were coming for blood.

Perseus had only been three when the monsters first started to appear, excluding the odd run-ins at bus stops, and subway stations in New York City. Sally had been prepared for them, she had known that danger would always loom over her fragile family—she did not however, anticipate an assault of the magnitude that followed her son's sixth birthday.

They had been running for weeks, from motels to rural countryside cottages, to small lakeside cabins—never staying longer than a week before moving forward. Zeus had been angry, it was easily shown in the constant rainclouds overhead and billowing winds that whistled around them in the dark cabin of Montauk. Sally had knew the end was coming long before it had arrived.

She had been given six splendid years of happiness with Perseus. Sally Jackson was willing and ready to meet her death, hence her diversion to return to the place where it had all started. Montauk, the cabin with the shores of rocky beaches and treacherous seas—the first and last place she had seen Perseus' father Poseidon. The place they had struck a deal and fallen in love, tangled in dark shadows and warnings of tragedy of the divine.

Sally Jackson had been sitting on a jagged sea rock, her son sitting next to her when the howls first made themselves known in the distance. Perseus had been shaking like a leaf next to her, as she explained it as simply and vaguely as possible the danger that was following them. Her son had always been perceptive and curious, not about to ignore the strange monsters he saw in strangers or the way the water called to him like a foreign song he had never heard but could strangely understand.

"I'm afraid mom," He whispered amongst the rocks, his side burrowed against his mother's. Not for warmth but comfort at the darkening skies and chaotic waves on the rock and gravel covered beach.

Perseus Jackson had never liked storms, thunder and lightning had always been a fear for him just as much as heights had been. Perhaps, it was because of the stories his mother had told him when he was younger. Of other children of the sea being smited for so much as daring to cross the simple boundaries of their home field. The skies would never be safe for Perseus Jackson, it was best he avoided them at all costs.

His mother hummed and pulled him a bit tighter to her side as she replied to his fears. Sally Jackson was treasuring the moment, committing it to memory as a safe place before the darkness took control. For when the monsters finally reached them, her end would come. Sally Jackson wasn't afraid of death, there was no reason in fearing the unknown and the always approaching fact of life. No one lived forever, not even gods.

"Don't be, Percy," She softly consoled with a soft kiss to the crown of her child's unruly hair. She would miss this, she would miss him— but if everything went as planned he would be safer with her gone. Hidden deep under the depths of the sea with his father. "—just remember what I told you and you will be safe. Your father will protect you."

"But why aren't you coming with me?" Percy asked with his eyes wide and filled with salty tears. The saddened look nearly had Sally second guess her choice, but she willed herself to stay strong. It was too late to change the outcome.

"Can't he protect you too?"

Sally Jackson sighed, as she glanced at him with loving eyes, warm and bright in the darkened skies of thunder and slowly building winds. A storm was on the horizon, she could feel it deep in her bones as the waves began to thrash harder against the shore in warning and the air began to smell of ozone.

They were coming.

"That's not how it works, Percy. I have no place in your world, but you..." she paused with a small grin filling her face, pulling at her weathered and worn cheeks. "—you will be a hero greater than Heracles."

Howls ricocheted across the rocky and woodland terrain in the distance. The monsters were close— the scent of her son and his lineage a beacon to any blood thirsty beast within a three mile radius. It didn't help that Zeus had sent only the worst of the pit after them, the most brutal and blood crazed monsters to finish the job. Perseus wasn't supposed to be a possibility, it didn't matter that Poseidon hadn't been the only one of the three to break the oath. A daughter of Zeus was already acknowledged and punished, Perseus was not the only one punished for his father's sins and nor would he be the last.

Tragic, that was the life her son was bound to live out. Though she couldn't recall ever hearing of a story where the hero was happy, where he lived a long life without violence and pain. All hero's lived and died in tragedy, that was the price of being a hero. The price of a mortal loving a god.

"They'll be here any minute," Sally Jackson brought up slowly with her voice clear and not wavering in her instructions as she pulled away from her only child. She pulled them both to their feet on the gravel-like sand, Percy wobbling slightly in his trainers on the uneven ground. "You best get to the waters edge."

"What will be here? What's after us?" Percy asked with his lip wobbling, as his eyes darted to the brush over the hills and near the cabin. It was no more than twenty yards away, with nothing but uneven paths and dead branches and fallen logs to slow the attackers should they appear. And they would appear, Sally was sure of it. They had been lucky to make it as far as they did.

"Just do exactly as I said," Sally replied, ignoring her son's questions as she urged him towards the icy waters edge. Most mothers would be urging their children away from such dangerous waters but Sally Jackson knew this to be the right choice. Perseus would be safe at sea, with the currents to guide him and the creatures of the deep to protect him. It was his birthright, his father’s legacy to him.

"Follow the current Percy," She said at last, as she watched the sea calm ever so slightly as her son’s feet sunk into the gravel sand. The waves licking at his mud covered trainers and sock covered feet. "—it will always lead you home."

"Mom—,"

A howl much closer than before ripped the young boys words from his mouth in seconds as he fearfully tumbled back. They were out of time.

"Quickly, Percy," She ushered urgently, a small prickle of fear racing up her spine as she did. Despite being ready for death, knowing what was to come and how it would end didn't ease her conscious. Percy needed to leave, he needed to get as far away as possible.

The wind rippled across the water in an icy blast, Perseus stepped further into the tide, the waves now crashing against his knees and soaking his upper thighs and shorts. He buckled against the force of the waves but didn't scramble away from their movements. He wasn't cold either, despite the chilly temperatures, the water would normally feel like ice to any other mortal, hypothermia being a likely illness to recover from such cool temperatures.

"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" He asked suddenly, his eyes seeking out his mother’s as she stayed planted firmly with her feet on the beach. Away from the waters edge and closer to the jagged rocks. She was holding that strange knife of gold that Percy had always asked her about. The answer was always the same. That it was a gift from an old friend, that it protected them. Percy had always hated the knife and all it signified, that they were never safe.

"No," His mother replied her voice soft but not apologetic in the slightest. "But don't be afraid, never be afraid— I will always be with you."

Percy wanted to be strong. He wanted to say he wasn't afraid ,that he understood what was happening, but he didn't. He didn't understand why his mom needed to send him away to the Sea God, he didn't understand why she needed a knife and why these things kept following them. He didn't understand why bad things always happened to them and he didn't feel strong, he felt weak and afraid. He was terrified, petrified even, and his mom just kept telling him to leave. That it was going to be okay but it wasn't— because she was going to die. He knew it the second she started to tell him those weird and strange stories, the ones that talked about gods and goddesses, and monsters, and titans and giants.

He didn't get to say this though, not a single word because his mother was speaking again and Percy didn't want to forget her voice. The voice he had known ever since he could remember and would never hear again because she was going to die. For some reason this felt like his fault too.

"I love you, Perseus."

"I love you too."

He barely got to utter the phrase before the brush at the top of the hill, the very same trees he had walked past on their way down to the beach an hour prior rustled and ripped away as a hoard of monstrous dogs trampled towards the shore. Even from a distance they were terrifying, all snapping jaws and pointed white teeth with beady red eyes. Their faces were square and hard looking like a pit bulls, but their body's as thick as a lion and just as powerful. They were the size of a lion too, much larger than any dog Percy had ever seen— though if their size wasn't terrifying enough, the fact that there was at least twelve of them had Perseus nearly wetting himself in fright. 

"Don't look back." His mother said, as he watched the hoard of canines approach with nothing but indifference. Percy wanted to shout at her to run, to join him in the water and pray that they didn't know how to swim, but his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. He couldn't have screamed even if he had wanted too. He was paralyzed in fear and didn't think he could move. It was his mom’s last words that broke him out of his trance.

"Swim, Percy. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

He did as she asked, but the screams and sounds of metal and teeth tearing through flesh would haunt him for years. Percy Jackson swam as far as he could, as deep as he could muster into the cold oceans of Montauk Bay, sobbing soundlessly with nothing but the currents and thrashing tidal waves to hear him.

If the mortals documented a sudden hurricane demolishing what little was left of Montauk Bay, or the surge in oceanic storms along the coastline they weren't documented. Meanwhile in Olympus, sitting watchful and proud upon his throne of gold and marble, Zeus, Lord of the Skies and King of Olympus looked down at the wreckage that he wrought from his brother’s grief and sighed.

He didn't enjoy his position of power, not in that moment at least, but it was for the best. Perhaps, Sally Jackson and her son Perseus could have died more calmly, less brutal and bloodied but what was done was done. The threat to Olympus was now on his way to the afterlife, for that he was certain. It simply wasn't possible for a boy of six to survive the worst of Hades' beasts.

Thinking the deed done and the threat vanquished he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters. Those of which did not include the possibility of Perseus Jackson being whisked away to his father's hidden palace in Atlantis in a deep sleep.

Nor did they include Hades sitting on the iron throne of his Underworld, pondering just what to do about the little peculiarity he had come across. He knew that Perseus Jackson ought to be dead, that the nephew of his ocean dwelling brother should be gracing the gates of asphodel at any minute and yet... the fields were empty and his register did not change. Perseus Jackson was very much alive, and Zeus was ignorant to his schemes imminent failure.

Chapter Text

Death was not to be cheated. It was an unspoken law, a rule to be followed and never questioned. You don't cheat death, it cheats you.

Hades, or Pluto for those that prefer it, was not the personification of death that so many dared to make him. He was not the god of the dead, but his employer— the ruler of the Underworld. The one who wielded the power of death, but was not the reaper in black that carried a scythe of silver and iron. No, that would be Thanatos, often confused with Eros when stood next to one another at mandatory meetings on Olympus. Thanatos is the one to collect the souls of the recently deceased, the one to journey through the many caverns and tunnels in and out of the Underworld.

He placed them upon the boat with Charon to be rounded up and placed on trial for the judges of the dead. Those who were guilty were punished, those who had achieved nothing were sent to the field's of Asphodel, and those who were heroes were granted Elysium. Thanatos was the god of death, not Hades, and likewise he was never cheated.

He had been befuddled to say the least, confused and shocked to find a soul missing in his collections. The god of death had been sent to collect two souls that night, one for Sally Jackson and one for Perseus Jackson, yet instead he only was given the former. Perseus Jackson for all intents and purposes had vanished off all mortal panes of existence and cheated death. A thing that one does not do, not mortals, not heroes, not even gods. Death was not to be cheated, bewitched or bargained with.

With his mishap in soul collection the minor god was given no choice but to take this matter to the higher authorities of the Underworld, to ponder and peruse on where Perseus Jackson could be hidden from his date of expiration and soul collection. Though most bizarrely, he had been taken as fool in front of the Ruler of the Underworld, as Hades was already privy to the news and not at all interested to discuss the matter.

No, Thanatos had been promptly dismissed at the wave of his ring-clad hand and sent on his way to collect the next batch of souls. Death waits for no one and truly, he did not have the time to waste as he was already behind in his schedule— so Thanatos took his leave. Though while he walked through the front gates of the obsidian carved palace and it's many poppy covered paths he pondered.

If Perseus Jackson could cheat death and be excused, who was to say others could not follow his path? Thanatos quickly shuddered at the thought and pressed forward however. His Lord would solve this issue, that was for certain— he was fretting for no reason at all. At least that was what the younger god told himself on his way to New Orleans for the wicked would of Madame Johnson.

Hades was an outcast amongst gods, after all no one loved and rejoiced over death, they mourned and grieved— it was terrible press to say the least. He wasn't flashy like his brother's with their lightning storms, hurricanes and landslides— he was a man of solitude. A god of wealth and riches—, the ruler of the dead.

Unlike Zeus, he didn't sit on a throne of marble and gold but one of iron and obsidian. He clothed himself in darkness and was the unnamed bogeyman of all children's dreams. Hades wasn't the god people prayed to for good health or fortune, but the one they confided in fear, in terror and in sickness. He was the god the damned, the sinning, and condemned turned to. That was all.

Hades was a god of secrets, a god of schemes and deals. So to be hoodwinked by his brother, a brother who was chaotic and unyielding was a mystery to say the least. He cherished his younger brother that wasn't to be doubted. Out of the two he was given, Poseidon was ultimately his favoured one to converse with. Zeus, with his big head and righteous sense of Justice, always rubbed him the wrong way, it didn't help that the younger god was far too prideful and arrogant for Hades to stomach most days. That was without even bringing up the topic of his horrid wife and sister Hera.

That wasn't to say that Poseidon didn't have his faults—his temper being unmatched amongst many and his flickering moods always changing like the tide. Hades would say that as unpredictable Poseidon was, he was at least grounded in his principles. The same could not be said for Zeus, there was also the small matter that while neither brother opened their arms and welcomed him into their abodes, Poseidon at least didn't insult him at every chance and opportunity when he did fancy himself some divine company.

It was for this reason that the ruler of the dead didn't hesitate in his decision to visit his brother of the seas. After all, he had many questions to ask and ample curiosity to how Poseidon had managed to cloak his child  from death— something that was simply not done, not ever. He left his throne room in a smoke screen of darkness, calling the shadows around him to conceal him, and appeared in the not entirely familiar throne room of his brother.

It was similar to Olympus in style, all smooth marble of white and beige sand stone. The sculptures however, depicted that of the sea, rather than that of the many gods. Instead of Athena staring down her spear with marble eyes along the entrance there was Amphitrite, with her mermaid-like tail of green scales and long dark hair—carved of that same beige stone with gold and silver accents. There were murals of aquatic battalions, the greatest and most ferocious of creatures in the deep, and many said aquatic creatures flurrying in and out on business errands. The sea was a business, just like the Underworld was, but instead of apocalyptic uprisings of the dead trying their luck, their were sea storms and battles against Pontus, the Titan of the deep.

"Hades," The god of the seas spoke whilst sitting on his throne of white and sand, next to him was his wife in shimmering tunics of teal looking as unhappy as ever. "I did not know you were stoping in."

"Poseidon," Hades greeted firmly in reply. He looked both eerily similar and different to his brother. Both held the characteristic dark hair of their family, though Poseidon's was untameable and curled. Shorter than his brother's too, as his would only reach the nape of his neck while Hades' would dangle like straight, silk curtains to the edge of his jaw bone. "—to be blunt I'm not here on a social call."

Poseidon was also more ivory coloured in skin than Hades, who held the colouring of ashy paper— though perhaps it was the circle-like bruises beneath his eyes that made him so ill-looking. Hades was also lean in build, with toned but thin arms and legs. He was all pointed edges, sharp and severe. Poseidon in contrast was shorter, with broad shoulders and pointed ears. Their mother Rhea had always though him to resemble a troublemaker from his glinting eyes of mischief and smirk-like smile. The very smile that he was giving his eldest brother at the moment.

"You never are, brother."

"If we could speak alone this matter could be settled swiftly." Hades brought up suddenly, ignoring the way a few aquatic creatures all but darted from the room.

He knew he was not welcome here, it was adamantly clear in the nervous twitching of his brothers wife. No one liked surprise visits from the Lord of the Underworld—except Poseidon. Poseidon had always been strange in that sense, never fearing him or his element of ruling. To his younger sea-gifted brother, he was always his brother first and a god with unimaginable power second. Family came before everything else in his chaotic and unpredictable mind.

Sensing the urgency of his unprompted drop in, Poseidon nodded swiftly before giving a knowing glance to his dolphin-billed advisors and fish-tailed wife. "Of course, let us convene in my back rooms. Shall I offer you a refreshment?"

Hades snorted at his brother's words before coldly replying with a roll of his eyes. "If your refreshment is some sort of sea creature recently slayed, I think not."

Poseidon grinned brightly at his brother's dry humour before leaping off his throne of sand and marble and leading him towards the archways behind them. It was one of the few hidden rooms that Poseidon refused most of his company and employees entry too.

"Very well. Follow me."

The god of the seas lead his brother through a series of archways, and to a hidden parlour with a marvellous view out towards the training grounds of his godly son Triton. Hades could easily see his fish-tailed nephew twirling about with a gladius as he completed some training. He was an impressive swordsman, for that there was no doubt, but Hades wasn't there to socialize on his nephew's skills and abilities. He was here with a far more pressing matter—it seemed that Poseidon soon understood this and locked the stone door behind them with a resounding click and had the curtains drawn over the window panes.

The two gods sat in a set of velvet armchairs, with a coffee table between them holding a pitcher of Dionysus' wine and a tray of ambrosia and other divine delicacies for immortals. Hades refused the offer of refreshments, while Poseidon helped himself to a square of ambrosia. A moment of silence passed between the two, before Hades spoke as he crossed his ankles in timid relaxation against the chair he sat on.

"I assume this day has been trying for you."

Poseidon quirked a brow quizzically at his older brother, before carefully measuring his response. Hades watched his brother's eyes turn dark and deep like the seas they sat in, and his emotions become carefully guarded as he spoke. "How so?"

"Well, with the death of your mortal lover and hero child I expected you to be in mourning," Hades replied clipped-ly, not about to hide behind a facade of knowing something the other did not. It would be unlikely that Poseidon didn't know of Sally Jackson's death, as he was often more attached to his mortal flings and lovers than most gods. It was both a strength and weakness for the god, his unparalleled loyalty to those he cared for. "—not going about your usual business."

Poseidon pursed his lips and replied, cautious and stern.

"Don't play coy, Hades." He reprimanded tightly, his usual flair of ease and indifference lost to the tide. "Tell me what is on your mind."

"Thanatos has delivered some peculiar news." Hades started off bluntly. "He was expected to collect the souls of Sally Jackson and Perseus Jackson, and yet he was only able to collect the one. So I have come to ask—," he licked his drying lips, "—where is your child, Poseidon?"

If Poseidon was surprised by his brother's sudden, but not entirely unfounded, accusations it didn't show. Instead, the god of the seas carefully poured himself a small glass of wine and swirled the cup twice before replying vaguely.

"Safe."

"Safe," Hades dragged out in mocking, his eyes dark like obsidian as he stared at his brother with a mix of irritation and disapproval. "From yourself, or from Zeus?"

Poseidon did not offer a reply besides taking a long sip from his golden goblet of wine. Hades didn't let this dissuade him in the slightest as he pushed forward into his pre-made speech on the matter. He simply refused to watch his younger brother bury himself into his own watery grave from such stupidity.

It simply wouldn't do as he was likely the only god in all of Olympus that didn't ostracize him out rightly. Of course, his wife wasn't included in that statement as she was and always would be a constant for him. Perhaps, he could include Aphrodite and her wishy-washy nonsense as well, seeing as they could agree on many fronts to their powers and strongholds of abilities. Love and death after all, were oh-so similar to their ends and beginnings. Still he would not sit by as Zeus destroyed him for disobeying his orders. He would do his best to keep Poseidon alive and without breaking any by-laws to their many years ago pact.

"You and I both know the politics of the thread you are tugging at." He reprimanded tightly, his hands clasped tightly overtop of his ebony coloured slacks. "We all swore a pact and you broke it, just as Zeus did."

Poseidon said nothing, but Hades was not finished in his dressing down. "Perseus should be dead and yet my records show he lives."

"Hades..." Poseidon tried to amend only to be swiftly and jarringly cut off with a raised, ring-clad hand.

"Death is not to be cheated, Poseidon and you know as well as I that I cannot go against our brother." He finished pointedly, before adding more as a mumble than a statement. One that which he didn't like to voice often, even to those he marginally trusted. "He has proven often to us both just how disposable he thinks I am."

"I'm not asking you too—!" Poseidon tried again before cutting himself off and setting his goblet down harshly on the wooden table between them. The god of the seas eyes were swirling like hurricanes in a mirage of greens and blues with unspoken emotions hidden in their depths. Hades almost hated his brother for how he changed his tactics of wordplay to reassurance from that of arguing his side of the narrative.

"...you're not disposable, brother."

"To you perhaps not, but to him I am a simple pawn in his game of chess. We all are." Hades lamented with a tired sigh and a bored expression. He looked at his brother in his swirling hurricanes of eyes with an urgency that had been absent for most of their conversation. "Now, tell me where is the boy so this mess can be cleaned away."

"I won't give you my son." Poseidon seethed cold and sharp as the bitter winds of the tundra. The cold had never bothered the Lord of the Underworld but in that moment, goosebumps appeared along his spine at his brother's sudden fury. "I won't have him slaughtered at your hands or Zeus' so that some pre-determined prophecy of our downfall doesn't exist!"

Hades didn't interrupt, didn't try to end his younger sibling's rant as he pushed forward, like a tidal wave shoving all it's power out at once before returning to calm but unforgiving seas. "—He's just a child! Perseus doesn't know how to tie his own shoelaces, much less how to lead an army or brigade on Olympus!"

"Be that as it may," Hades conceded, hating himself and the situation the more it was brought up. "He is still dangerous. Your blood runs through his veins."

"You are not killing my son!" Poseidon snipped, with cold fury and Hades retreated from that particular negotiation tactic. His brother would explode if pressed any further, or wipe out half of the world in his fury if he wished it. It didn't matter that he was displaying his Grecian roots rather than his Roman—Hades knew the line between them was much thinner when angered.

For as calm and collected that Poseidon was, Neptune was vengeful and vicious. The last thing he needed was a war with the unpredictable and volatile sea god. Besides, he never wanted to harm Perseus to begin with, he had no issue with the child... yet. The only reason he was doing this was to save his brother, as that was where his allegiance laid. He would damn the world to Tartarus for Poseidon, for the simple phrase that before anything else they were brothers.

He didn't want Poseidon to fall to their youngest brother's hatred and wrath as he once did. To become bitter-filled and angry at everyone and everything. Poseidon was one of the best of them, as dangerous he was— he was likewise calm and clearing. He was the ocean through and through. Dangerous, undoubtedly, but he was also purifying in a sense that religion or any god for that matter, could fully comprehend. His brother was just as good as he was bad and that was what set him apart from the rest of them and their immortal lives.

Heaving a great sigh, Hades reached forward and poured himself a glass of wine from the pitcher and took a long drink from it. He would need the alcohol to lower his guard to get through the terrible tragedy and narrative he was about to divulge to his younger sibling.

"Let me tell you a story of our brother's wrath."

"I am not a child, Hades." Poseidon all but sneered at the god, though it looked fragile on such a face. "I don't need a bed time story or to be tucked in."

"Once," Hades began, ignoring his brother's rolling eyes and obvious annoyance to the story he was about to tell, and reminisced to a time before he had gone dark and cold to the world and their many, many heroes. "I loved a woman very much. Her name was Maria Di Angelo and we had met during the Second World War in Italy."

Despite his protesting, Poseidon laid back and listened to his brother's baritone voice as he retold his story. He knew Hades didn't share much with the world, not anymore. So to be given the chance to know of his past, to know anything about him other than what he exhibited to those that respected him out of fear, was a privilege that in and of itself.

"...She had been beautiful and clever, and not afraid of anything. Not who I was, or what I could do and I loved her, fully and beyond all sensible reason." Hades paused lost in the memories that were once of his greatest mortal love.

A woman with ebony hair in tight curls, bright amber eyes and a loud, belly-filling laugh. She had been so bright and full of life—, wanting for nothing and happy. Maria Di Angelo was the type of woman who was always positive towards even the worst of situations. Hades had loved her beyond all sense, ignoring all reason that said it was not to be. But the longer he stayed with her, the more her life was in danger, and despite knowing it would never end well he stayed.

He stayed, knowing it was wrong as to love an immortal was a tragedy, even Gods knew this. He was the reason for his demise, he knew this even now—yet he could not regret it, not a single moment. As any moment spent with her had been like drinking the worlds sweetest and most potent of wine— addicting and well worth the pain the next day.

"She was a goddess amongst women and against my better judgment I sired two children with her—, a girl and a boy." Hades thought of his little girl with her buck-toothed grin and his son with eyes bright and his mother's same and infectious laughter. They had been innocent, and naive to the world all it could do to hurt them. It was then that Hades' happy expression dimmed and his eyes lost the light they had carried for just a moment in his memories. Flickering out like a match in the darkness, his happiness faded to be replaced with the familiar, cold facade he often wore.

"—Then our brother made us swear a pact before the Styx, and the Prophet Delphi paid me a visit."

Hades could remember that terribly tragic day like it was yesterday rather than near a century prior. It still caused his blood to boil and his heart to feel as though it was caving in. He didn't think he could love anyone so fiercely after Maria, not so fully and bright. She would be his last he thought, even if it wasn't for the pact made.

"She had been angry," He recalled from the seer of Apollo, the woman with crimson hair and a cruel-lipped grin. She hadn't been at all apologetic in her actions for she had thought them to be right and true. Poseidon could feel the man slip into mourning the more he spoke.

"She lead our brother to my children as he blasted our home with lightening." He stated like one would describe the weather, added shortly in vagueness but fierce. As if this was one of the man's most deepest secrets— held to his chest for centuries to never eve uttered or spoken of. "I was forced to send my children away to keep them safe. Even now they stay hidden, never aging never growing into their potential."

Poseidon watched his brother shrug, lost in his wallowing thoughts as he added, "It's for the best."

The sea god had wanted to disagree, but how could he—as wasn't that what he was doing for Perseus now? Keeping him hidden from the wrath of his youngest brother in his palace—hidden and cloaked under an eternal sleep, least it was lifted by his own hand. He was just the same as Hades in this instant and it was unlikely that it will last long.

"Maria, my last love," Hades resounded quiet and soft, a tone Poseidon couldn't remember his brother ever uttering before that afternoon. "—died that day in a flash of light and from that bitterness I cursed that insufferable oracle for her blabbering."

Poseidon felt his words reverberate against the stone walls around them, the darkness that his brother's words held. This was the reason for the failed prophecies for years to come, the reason Apollo was convinced he had lost his sight. Perhaps this was the greatest secret of his brother, one of the many cards he held close to his chest. He wondered what the curse on the now deceased woman was, but knew better than to ask—as Hades would likely never tell.

"The dead tell no lies, and so she was made dead—," Hades replied cold and blunt, his eyes seeking out his brother's in a wordless question. "—forever forced to speak from her mummified corpse."

The quiet that followed was eerie as the god of the Underworld finished off his glass. Poseidon could only stare in empathy at his elder brother, feeling pity and grief rolling out to him on instinct. Zeus, the youngest of the trio, had always been cruel and filled with a sense of Justice that could rival that of Nemesis. He refused to think of others in his plans and wishes to get what he wanted. He was cruel and manipulative in some instances, like that of Hades' mortal lover. He had not broken the pact, the children did not need to die. Yet, still he sent for their heads, and their deaths were expected to follow. It was once again the shrouding of death that had saved them, by their parents. Poseidon and Hades were so major in that singular moment—acting out of love for their children rather than oath to follow their brother's wishes as King.

"Children," Poseidon spoke suddenly, his face pale and eyes wide in disbelief. There were m ah things he wanted to speak of, many things he wanted to ask but instead he focused on the lesser of his words. The ones that didn't scream of mutiny and backstabbing to Zeus outright. "—you have two children...why have you never...?"

Hades shrugged noncommittally. "Why have you never spoken of Perseus? We are one in the same brother."

Poseidon did not like the statement but didn't argue it. He knew he had loved Sally Jackson more than any other mortal fling. Being with her had been indescribable to say the least, for a moment he wasn't feared or revered, nor was he all powerful and chaotic. He was just himself, a god with too much power and too little forethought. An immortal blessed with time and cursed to watch all those he loved disappear. Sally Jackson had this light about her than even the darkness of her world couldn't dampen. She was his lighthouse in a sea storm, always leading him home in the night. Sally was and likely forever will be his lighthouse at sea.

"Now, I can wipe the record clean, hide him away like I did with my children," Hades replied slowly, having recovered enough from his memories to get back to the matter at hand, the reason for his sudden drop in.

Despite his previous statements, Hades added in warning, "But know of what rage you will be inciting. Zeus will find out and when he does he will be wrathful, angry and gone of all rational thought."

Poseidon frowned openly at his brother's words in disagreement.

"I won't have Perseus locked away like some damsel in a tower. He is worth more than that. Sally—," the god of the seas voice broke over his deceased lover's name, "She would have never wanted it."

"But would she rather her child alive and safe, than hidden in constant danger?" Hades countered with gruelling patience. He had no wish to argue with his brother who controlled the tides, but he wasn't thinking clearly. Poseidon didn't understand the consequences that his actions would bring, the harm that they will undoubtedly inflict. "A hero's life is never a happy one."

Poseidon glared at his brother unwaveringly for a moment before rushing out in measured paces. "I appreciate your concern, brother, but my mind has been made up."

"Made up?" Hades asked with a shiver running up his spine at the implications. Poseidon's planning was unpredictable at best and usually caused more of a mess than it ever solved. Hades had always loathed Poseidons plans—namely the ones he got involved in. "What are you planning? Poseidon, you're best to leave the schemes to Athena."

In his answer, Poseidon's form flickered. His Bermuda styled button down and cut-off shorts changed to a roman-styled toga of white with navy accents, with golden clasps. His hair became more chaotic and darker with a hint of blue, and his eyes went a mirage of blues in colour. Gone were the pleasant sea-greens of his irises or the laugh lines around his smile. Instead, deep furrow lines were hidden above his brow and his lips pulled back into a deep frown. It lasted no more than second, just long enough for Hades to understand exactly what his brother planned in remedy to the situation.

It was foolish— insane even. A trick that was bound to explode in their faces within seconds. It was an unspoken bylaw of their world—the Grecian demigods and Roman's were to be kept separate, only death and endless slaughter followed their interactions when they weren't. It was for their own good. But, for just a moment, inbetween his horror and shock Hades contemplated it. Perseus as a son of Neptune, as a Roman demigod—it was so insane, blasphemous even, that it might just work to keep him alive.

Though logic persuaded him to shove such thoughts away in an instant, as he asked in horror, "You're not contemplating—,"

"It is the best alternative." Poseidon remarked, his appearance returning to what it once was. Hades breathed a sigh of relief when he came face to face with the familiar green irises, and the tacky Bermuda button down. Though his relief lasted shortly as he attempted and admittedly failed, to persuade his brother away from such dangerous schemes.

"Perseus Jackson is Greek!" Hades all but seethed before sending his brother a withering glare as he enunciated clearly and stern to the unmoved god. "—And meddling with the fates! The She-Wolf will never agree to it."

"She would out of understanding," Poseidon countered, adding shortly with a glimmer of a cruel smirk falling from his lips. "...and perhaps fear. The Roman's have never liked the sea."

Hades was many things in that moment, but not an idiot. He could tell that Poseidon wasn't about to be persuaded away from his dangerous and ill-thought plan, and yet he still tried to pull him away from it. Will cold facts and bitter truths that he doubted the other god had even contemplated thus far. It was for that reason that he coldly stated the following words, minor glimpses to what life his son would lead as a pseudo-Roman demigod.

"He won't be treated well." Hades argued, in the hopes to convince Poseidon of another solution, any other solution. "He'll be outcasted and labelled a threat the instant he crossed their borders. That's if the She-Wolf doesn't rip him limb from limb at her first opportunity."

"But he would live a life not trapped in a cage."

As much as Hades wanted to stomp out and cuss out his brother, he didn't. As much as he wanted to say the opposite and that it wasn't true, that there was no guarantee that Perseus would live at all from the motions of this ridiculous plan, he couldn't. Because Death and the Lord of the Underworld were many things but never dishonest. They were always a terrible truth, while life was as the terrible lie. He shuddered a deep breath, both in exasperation and exhaustion at what he was preparing himself to do. As his last attempt, he said these final words to his sea worthy brother.

"You're playing with fire, Poseidon, and you will be burned."

The sea god only grinned with mischief dancing in his eyes, "And who knows fire better than the god of hellfire himself? Help me Hades, and I'll be in your debt."

Hades huffed out a deep laugh, despite the draining and exhaustion topic that was nowhere near at an end, as he coyly taunted, "Hasn't mother Rhea told you not to go making deals with the devil?"

"But you're not the devil, truly," Poseidon countered offhandedly, rolling his eyes like that of a young teenager ignoring the obvious signs of a bad idea. "—you're my brother first."

"Very well." Hades supplied, pulling the wine pitcher much closer to his glass and filling it to the brim with a quick flick of his wrist. He was concluding his attempt at being the responsible one of the two and caved to his younger sibling's wishes. After all, he always did love blackmail and bargaining tools—this was far too interesting of an offer to refuse.

The Lord of the Underworld took a long sip from his glass, smacked his lips twice, and then asked in begrudging interest. All the while, Poseidon grinned into his goblet as if he had just won the lottery prize. Hades knew he should have fought him harder on the matter once meeting his mischievous glance.

"Tell me your thoughts, and perhaps we can come to an amicable agreement."

Chapter Text

It was a gruelling visit, with far too much wine and very little proper made plans but the brief layout they had created was well enough to get them through until Perseus turned eleven. Hades of course cursed his brother backwards and forwards throughout the entire evening and mid-morning as he was being pulled deeper and deeper into his schemes. The one positive was knowing how much his brother truly owed him for such favours.

Towards the middle of the night they had decided on hiding Perseus more or less in plain sight of their brother. They were planning to use their brother's arrogance to their advantage to have him not question the boy's true origins, along with some not-so complicated blood magic. Blood magic, that they in fact did not have to make on their own, as sure enough the Three Fates offered their own visit onto their private discussions. A visit neither of the gods approved or liked in the slightest.

The Fates were more gloomy than the Lord of the Underworld himself, with their milky white eyes, and leathered faces of old age. It didn't make matters simple either, as despite knowing and seeing all both past present and future, they thought it necessary to bring their rusted scissors and threads of life along for the impromptu drop in at Atlantis. The very scissors that had ended so many lives far too quickly—both that of Sally Jackson, and Maria Di Angelo.

Before either god could come to a proper greeting or response to the unnerving triplets of fate, the three hobbled into the room and snipped at them in their unnerving riddles. It was one habit that many gods and goddesses alike had hoped would be broke over the years, but only seemed to get more and more complicated as the centuries passed. Hades, for one did not enjoy having to pick apart senseless rhymes to find out the true meaning of the most simple of phrases.

"Seas and death untied once more," Clotho, the first of the three snipped with her milky white eyes. Seeing nothing as she stared at them endlessly. Her second sister, Lachesis, who was tall and thin as a skeleton finished with a blackened tooth sneer. "—meddling with things that are not yours."

"Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos," Poseidon greeted stiffly, on edge at the three's sporadic meeting. The Fates didn't journey far from their hidden cave, they spoke their riddles and snipped their strings in solitude—a wonderful arrangement in the eyes of many. A visit from them was never a good omen, and that was coming from an immortal, a god who had seen far more terrible things in the eons than he had wished too. "...how lovely of you three to pay a visit."

"Lovely he says, the god of storms," Atropos murmured to Lachesis with a snicker, with the later replied in mind with a cruel sneer, "—lovely he mumbled with grieving sores."

"Enough riddles," Hades snapped coldly, his mind already in knots of their complicated and overbearing rhymes. It was for this reason he avoided most of the other immortal beings at all costs. While his siblings and most Olympians weren't cursed or filled with such nonsensicals, the Fates could only reminded him of the sun god who thought riddles were the next best thing since fire. Fire, which had been stupidly gifted to the mortals by Prometheus. If there was one immortal Hades truly did pity it was that man, for as foolish as he was, his punishment far outweighed his crimes.

"What is your business here?" He added in distaste, hoping this horrible meeting would come to a quick end. As expected his hoping was futile as they picked up their rhyming rambles where they had last left off.

"You know of our business, shadows and bone," Lachesis, taunted with that small unnerving grin.

"—We know what you seek, and it can be easily sown." Clotho added with her lips spreading wide in a toothless smile.

"But the price to pay, oh you'll see!" Lachesis exclaimed with a short cackle, that did nothing but knot the two Olympians thoughts and intestines. They both knew that anything they thought to be cheerful was not in fact a happy ending at all. The Three Fates, like many older and darker deities enjoyed and revelled in the pain and terror they brought– their knitting of lives was always much more fun to tear apart.

"For one boys life," Atropos spoke emotionless and plain, "—another must bleed."

"Our threads were once tidy, without a snip or snag," Clotho remarked clipped and terse, as if in the middle of scolding a small child. "—but with you meddling, unsteady becomes our hands."

"Perseus Jackson was doomed from the start," Lachesis lamented with a hefty sigh, "with predetermined prophecies and a morally grey heart."

"Then there were two lost in time," Atropos muttered with a sharp edge to her tongue. She looked directly at Hades through her unseeing eyes. "If Jackson is to be saved, the son of bone must not be confined."

"They'll be killed—," Hades went to argue with absolute certainty, only to be cut off instantly by Clotho who was vehemently disagreeing.

"Oh, that they will not! The prophecy of sixteen will commence no matter who is at the start."

"If Perseus goes east, then Nico goes west," Lachesis stated, without a question to be asked in between. "Then the Angels of Death will be prophecy set."

"Choices, choices, that is what you're left," Atropos hummed, as if bored of their overlapping rhyming too.

"We will aid you of course, that is what we do best." Clotho added on with a mischievous grin.

Hades didn't know what to think, his mind more or less in shambles at the moment. From the paled features of his brother, he looked to be about the same. So much and so little was thrown at them at once—he needed a drink, that was all he could possibly conclude. Perhaps, the Fates were being honest though, it wouldn't one be the first time that they tried to lead someone astray—Hades had always been cynical and untrusting. Then again who else was there to ask? If only the three old bats could stop speaking in riddles then perhaps everything would feel a lot less confusing.

"And if we didn't? Meddle that is?" Poseidon asked slowly, after casting a glance to Hades, unsure of what to say. Frankly, the god of riches and the Underworld was far too lost to even keep up at this point in time. All he knew was that they were gambling many things at the moment, that the Fates were offering help but had yet to say the price for which such a favour would cost. Nothing came free, Hades knew that with certainty.

"Then Jackson will die a hero's child, long before his journey is set to start." Atropos replied quickly, as if it wasn't a question at all but a statement. Perseus Jackson would die if he wasn't given to Rome, placed under a false identity of his lineage.

"The Di Angelo's," Lachesis hummed for a moment, as if thinking up the proper way to give the terrible news, or purposely looking through their expected life choices. Though she didn't hesitate long before replying, "Lost in a land without rain and the other perishing by loves cruel heart."

Hades heart slammed into his chest, whilst Poseidon looked seconds from fading away into nothingness. That was it then, it wasn't a question to what they should or should not do. Perhaps, Perseus Jackson was dangerous in the future, as were his own two children but the plausibility of danger versus the outcome of death... the answer was simple. At least for Poseidon it was—though Hades was still at the crossroads. He knew that death wasn't the end, that there was more to living and dying but for the god of the seas who had already lost his mortal lover that day—the likability of his child's impending doom was far too much grief and pain to stand. He wouldn't, no couldn't, allow that to become a possibility.

"Oh watch them doubt what little they've thought," Clotho snickered to her taller sister, Lachesis, "—watch them question their meddling thus far."

"Enough!" Hades shouted, his breathing rapid and his hands clenched into fists. He was far past irritated at their vagueness of such personal matters. He wanted answers, concrete evidence if possible to what was being said. "Be straight for once."

Clotho sighed, as she replied more to her sister's than the furious god, though she did address, though not until the end.

"Doubt comes in with tricky fingers, Doubt comes in with fickle tongues." She paused before adding almost in taunt, "You know this Hades, so why gamble with threads still undone?"

Poseidon sighed, exasperated and exhausted from the little bit of sense that was in their reply and instead asked his questions as statements—it was likely the only way for them to get a proper reply. At least, so he thought.

"If Perseus goes to Rome, he will live."

It was a statement despite the way his voice heightened just slightly in tone towards the end. It was Atropos who answered him, despite it not being a question.

"Without a doubt."

Hades raised a brow at this and quickly added, this time following his younger brother's lead on finding answers. Though Hades knew Poseidon wasn't the least bit stupid, he most surely wasn't the smartest of gods. Athena made it plain to everyone one that Poseidon was most definitely not one of the sharpest of swords in Hephaestus' forge.

"But if he stays hidden?"

Lachesis grinned as if the two gods had finally sorted out their long winded riddle after so many false answers. Hades had to force himself not to smite the woman for her audacity, no matter how old and important she supposedly was.

"A hero child is all he will amount."

Though Lachesis didn't stop there. No, the middle sister of the Three Fayes was not done with their strange words and double meanings. She added with a shrug, and unwavering milky white eyes, "And if Perseus goes to Rome the Di Angelo's will make it to sixteen."

Catching what she was up to, or perhaps all three sisters only a shared one braincell between them, Hades wasn't sure, Clotho begins to add in her bored and emotionless tone.

"But if he stays hidden..."

"One will be lost," Atropos confirmed with a sniff and a stutter in her words, as if it truly was a sad tale. "—in a land of desert winds."

The silence that fell was uneasy, as the three woman all turned to one another as if debating something neither Hades nor Poseidon could gage in their frazzled states. Hades was in deep thought himself, brows pinched and lips tight, as his mind whirled and buzzed. Poseidon on the other hand looked to be carved from marble. Cold with a look of neutrality, as his mind spiralled with storms on what to choose.

He thought there was only one obvious choice but their wording was so frustrating—as there was nothing truly concrete about any of it regarding Percy. None of it stated a long life nor a happy life. None of it alluded to whether Zeus would end him before his journey began or if he'd always be living on the tail-ends of a prophecy. He was beyond frustrated and wished more than anything that these three women could answer a question without speaking in riddles. It was also perhaps the one time in his immortal life that he wished to have Apollo's talents with poetry so he could dissect such garble.

What ended up sealing his deal was not the fate of his son, which was the one life he truly cared most about in the entire situation but that of his brother's children. Hades had lost their mother once, loosing his children as well, after keeping them hidden and safe for so long—he didn't wish to see how grief took form in the God of the Underworld.

So, Poseidon made his choice, begrudgingly admittedly. But he had faith in his brother at keeping to his word, to his favours that were always sealed with absolute prayer to the River Styx. His brother was known for his deals and always upholding his end, he held much in common to Nemesis in that sense. Just as he had come to terms with such thoughts however, the Three Fates began to speak once more.

"So which threads are we to unravel?" Lachesis spoke with a glimmer of a grin.

"Which ones are we to un-spin?" Clotho echoed in the same manner.

"You've made your choice unwilling, but one in the end." Atropos ended swiftly.

The three ladies then began to magically unweave the threads they had been previously tied together. Threads of silver and gold were stripped apart and ones of red, rerouted or snipped quickly to an end. Knots were undone, fraying was mended with weathered hands running along them. It happened in seconds, minutes even, as years of threading and spinning came undone. It was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying how easily an entire life could be veered down a different course through one not entirely large decision.

"Perseus to Rome, that will save your brother's children," Clotho stated to Poseidon, as she carefully untangled a golden line with that of a blackened one. A silver one instead, melded and weaved together a ways down in a simple tie.

"But—," Lachesis interrupted as she remedied a knot in the middle of a golden thread, and spun it back into pristine condition. The fading ends that turned to black and a blood-like red were wiped clean with it, as it shone brightly and new. "Perseus to Greece, and death is but a question of when."

As they worked and the two gods were stuck to helplessly watch, they muttered and jabbered on in their hidden truths and complexities.

"Meddling's of prophecies are not to be done," Lachesis spoke once, her voice grin but her hands not stopping in their work.

"Though on a hidden record, know we are pleased with what you have done." Clotho added in finality as she spun the last string with gold from a tangle of knots of seven others, all varying in length and colour.

"Perhaps our snips are a long ways off," Atropos brought up, as she snipped off loose ends, and tied a few back to their new placements. "—but with this change, perhaps the world will not fall apart."

The three fates hummed their agreement before slowly spinning their threads back to their spindles and tucking away their scissors and shears. Hades didn't know what to say, just as much as Poseidon stood their wide eyed and in shock. So much had happened in so short of a time and all they could do was hope that they had made the right choice in the end.

"Twelve Blessings to you," Atropos said in farewell, though quickly interrupted by Lachesis all but shouting in triumph, "—and long prosper New Rome!"

"Lachesis, Atropos," Clotho scolded sternly, as she closed their large knitting basket and all it's newly spun thread, "Come, we have much more spinning to be done."

With the three ladies hobbling out the doorway, and disappearing in a cloak of grey smoke, Hades breathed a sigh of relief while Poseidon reached to finish his goblet of wine.

With what little was revealed from the Fates unwanted visit, the truth of the matter suddenly hit them both as they sat with their minds in a fuzz of wine and too many thoughts. They knew that Perseus was to go to New Rome, and by extension Camp Jupiter but the question of when was much more difficult to decide.

Hades wanted to drop him off at the gates and be done with it, Poseidon argued that he ought to train with the Camp's Guardian Lupa beforehand. Hades retorted that throwing him the wolves—quite literally—was not going to help matters in slightest. Lupa's children, as those trained by her at the Camp were called, were shunned in their own way.

They were too volatile, too vicious in their values. Hades feared, though not vocally, that if they sent him to the wolves and he was claimed as a child of Neptune he would never have any acceptance with the Roman's at all. Poseidon rebutted that with Lupa's training perhaps his Grecian tendencies could be rerouted, that perhaps the She-wolf would be able to make him appear less of an outsider and more of an ally. Both points of the argument had their advantages and disadvantage's— but in the end they came to a compromise, though one neither of them were particularly thrilled for.

If Poseidon pushed for Perseus to be trained by the She-wolf, then Hades would title him as a Champion of Pluto. Not that this would help him gain any popularity status but it would make people fear him just enough to respect him, hopefully. Of course being a Champion of Pluto wasn't simply a title—for it to be true to it's name Perseus would have to train with the dead, and go on quests in Pluto's name as well as Neptune's.

It was a strange and unorthodox predicament to say the least. A slight advantage to this however, was that it would show their younger brother that the two were a united front and that touching a hair on Perseus Jackson would leave him without a proper foothold in Olympus at all. For a god to strike down another's given Champion was a crime punished by Lady Styx herself, even Zeus would not be foolish enough to concur her wrath.

With such measures and compromises agreed upon, it was settled that Perseus would be given to Lupa in a few days time, then at age ten he would begin his training as a Champion of Pluto. It was only after this was all completed that he would he be given his trials into Camp Jupiter. With Perseus with Lupa for a few years, Hades was given the time to retrieve his own children from the Lotus Casino, train them and send them on the spiralling pathway to Camp Half-blood. Perseus to the east and Nico to the west, just as the Three Fates had decreed not even an hour prior.

The other issue that they stumbled upon in their plans was convincing Lupa, if she believed Perseus to be a danger to New Rome she would refuse him. Poseidon was given the task of convincing her before Hades was to drop him off at the Wolf House. Hades prayed that his brother was up to the task and this wouldn't be yet another roadblock in their way.

In the agreement to Hades receiving Perseus as his Champion, Poseidon offered the same to Hades' children to which the god adamantly refused. His children didn't need the added protection of water, they would likely only see it as a debt to be paid and they didn't need the extra eyes on them. Poseidon of course tried to argue his brother's tight-lipped rebuttals but they all ended swiftly and the matter was then closed—, well mostly.

Hades did agree to his offering of safety for them should it ever arise—that both Nico and Bianca would be given safety at sea no matter the circumstances and refuge if so needed. It wasn't quite what Poseidon wished to offer but he agreed to it nonetheless, aiding a little for his nephew and niece was better than not at all. Plus, despite what Athena preached, Poseidon did know when not to push his luck.

It was nearly twenty-four hours later that the two gods said there farewells and Hades returned to that of the Underworld. When Amphitrite cornered him later that evening in curiosity to what was so urgent and long laying for their discussion, Poseidon was tight lipped and evasive.

Though when she noticed him sneak into the hidden archways of where the demigod child of his lay slumbering in a magical sleep, she knew not to press the matter. Perhaps, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her—after all, no matter how close Poseidon was with his gloom and doom brother, Hades would never challenge the rules of the dead. Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon was destined to die with Sally Jackson. Not even Hades would save his nephew on the pleas of his brother.

When Hades returned to the Underworld , it wasn't his wife who cornered him that evening, as she was still in the mortal world. Summer had just came to an end and the autumn solstice was yet to pass, but Thanatos was there waiting on the wings. Their conversation had been quick, a simple inquiry to that status of Perseus Jackson and his missing soul. Unable to help himself, Hades grinned and replied that the son of Poseidon was indeed dead, though his soul simply misplaced.

When Thanatos offered to collect it, Hades denied him such a request saying it had been handled. So when the God of Death checked the records of souls collected he wasn't the least bit surprised to see Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon with his soul collected and judged. Though if the minor god had scanned the page a little longer, stared at the script a tad bit closer he would have noticed the subtle change. As just as Hades had closed his deal with Poseidon, Perseus Jackson, the son of Poseidon ceased to exist at all. In his place Perseus Jackson, the son of Neptune appeared, with his soul perfectly in tact.

Chapter Text

Perseus Jackson had terrible luck. Not just the usual, stubbed my toe and lost my homework type of bad luck but the sort that had him remembering being on the run with his mom because of something he did, or was, to watching his mom die, or so his weird dreams foretold. But Sally Jackson, his mom, who was the kindest and most caring person on the world couldn't possibly be dead, right?

The last thing the boy of six years could remember was agreeing to take a walk to the beach with his mom— then the rest was completely blank, excluding that of the weird dreams he kept reliving. So to wake up in an unknown room, with his mom nowhere to be found scared him immensely. It didn't help that the room was lavishly decorated as well, likely a fancy hotel by the looks of it. A hotel way too expensive for either of the Jackson family to spend a night in without skipping a months worth of groceries to pay for it.

None of it was making sense, and the six year old had a really big fuzzy feeling in his head because of it. He was also starving, like he hadn't ate anything for at least three days and his mouth was as dry as a desert. Just what had he gotten himself into this time?

It wouldn't be the first time for weird things to happen to him granted, there was fleeing every state to the coast with his mom to stay ahead of whatever they were being chased by. Or the small memory of him getting kicked out of pre-k and kindergarten just a few years ago. It didn't matter how many times he tried to explain that he didn't in fact try to bury the annoying girl Natalie alive in the sand—no one believed him.

No one believed that all he had done was tell the girl to leave him alone when he was playing in the sandbox, sure he was angry but he didn't even remember pushing the girl into the sandbox. It was like the sand had gotten a mind of it's own and tried to drown the girl alive for bothering him. It wasn't his fault. He was a good kid, honestly.

Preschool was a little harder to explain because truthfully it had been his fault— more or less. Granted, he hadn't meant to give his entire class an unplanned, up-close view inside the dolphin aquarium but it was one of the best field trip's he had ever been a part of. Percy Jackson had always wanted to go swimming with dolphins, so his class couldn't be too mad at him for simply including them in the excursion. The teacher had been less impressed as she wasn't a very good swimmer and was terrified of the dolphins—but his only friend at the time, Terrence, had thought it was wicked.

Suddenly, the door to the room clicked open and Percy Jackson was swiftly pulled out of his wandering thoughts to be met with the strangest looking man he had ever seen, sweeping into the room.

He was tall, more so than most grownups to a six year old and oddly thin. Almost like the man missed many meals, or was still growing despite being well past the age of hitting growth spurts. What was most unsettling about him, excluding his long limbs and height, was the familiarity of him. Percy Jackson knew he had never met the man, as he would have remembered meeting such a tall man, but there was something nagging him in the back of his mind that he knew him. That his dark irised eyes, and curtain-like, ebony coloured hair had crossed paths with the six year old at some point.

Percy knew it was rude to stare, his mother had told him so often enough, but the six year old simply couldn't help himself. The man was strange—walking like a panther on the prowl, with footsteps that made no sounds in the fancy hotel room. Even his facial expressions, which flickered from nothing more than a pinched set of lips to a neutral purse, had Perseus captivated in seconds. Which was a feat all in of itself, as the six year old had the attention span of a goldfish due to his excessive amounts of energy and ADHD.

"Good you're awake," The mysterious man addressed simply. Perseus didn't know what he was expecting but the soft tone that the man exhibited was definitely not it.

Every man he had ever met never spoke softly, at least not around him—especially at school. Sure, they would start out decent enough but sooner or later they're get annoyed with him or simply think he was dumb. Perseus wasn't dumb, he just... took a little longer to understand some things he supposed. Besides, the city of New York wasn't exactly known for its hospitality and friendliness.

"Breakfast will be up shortly and then you will get dressed and washed for the day," The man continued as Perseus stayed motionless in his bed in a half sitting position, unsure on how to respond. Especially when the man finished without question or pause, "We have a long journey ahead of us."

With his hazy mind finally catching up to his thoughts, and the blaring warnings sounding in his head about strangers and danger, Perseus was finally able to speak. He asked cautiously, whilst pulling the sheets up tighter to his chest. It was only then that he noticed that he wasn't wearing the same clothes she had at Montauk. Instead of the plain shirt and shorts, he was now in a thin but matching set of cotton pajamas.

"Who are you?"

The man ignored him outright, only offering three words in reply, "Don't ask questions."

Perseus frowned openly, "But I—,"

"No questions until we are somewhere safe," the man snapped, gone with his soft words and easy tone. He hadn't yelled but it was enough to make the young boy flinch.

It was like Perseus was back in kindergarten and the police were interrogating him on what caused the accident. Did he want to hurt anyone? Did he mean for this to happen? Was he a bad kid? It didn't matter how many times he said no—the policemen never believed him.

The man's tone was enough to make him realize just how important it was not to ask questions, especially when he added for clarification on the matter. "Do you understand me?"

Perseus nodded, and that was the end of the matter entirely.

Like the man had said earlier, breakfast was up shortly—literally minutes after the man had told him not to ask questions. Perseus didn't know how he knew such things, probably because he was a grown up and grown ups know all sorts of things that kids like him don't. Soon Perseus was seated at the desk inside the room with a plate of scrambled eggs, a small fruit bowl and some strange looking bread. He wasn't entirely a fan of the bread, far too salty in his mind but he ate most of it anyways. Mostly, because his mom always told him not to be wasteful, mainly because they never knew when the could stop to eat again while on the run.

The man seemed pleased about his eating habits though, and if Percy hadn't known better he would have even thought the man was amused by the faces he made at the bread. Not only was it salty but it had green stuff in it, and if it was the man's sneaky way of getting him to eat vegetables he wasn't enthused. He hated vegetables— though his mom still made him eat them.

After eating the man said nothing else besides instructing him into the bathroom to wash up and change. Perseus was about to ask what he was supposed to change into, when he noticed the small pile of clothes beside the sink basin. They were his clothes from Montauk, washed, dried and folded without a wrinkle in sight.

He cleaned up quickly, using the complimentary soaps to shower and the the toothpaste and brush to clean his teeth. The young boy debated on trying his luck at combing through his hair but soon thought better of it. With his luck he'd snap the comb in two, the only one who had ever been able to comb his hair smooth was his mom and even then that was only on occasion. When it came to his chronically messy hair it had an entire mind of its own.

While brushing his teeth, and gazing into the slowly defogging mirror, Perseus suddenly realized why the man had looked so familiar and the answer showed it self in his slightly hazy reflection. Though the man was much older than him, they had a few things in common. Though their hair colour wasn't exactly the same it was undoubtedly similar, but his nose was the same if a bit smaller. Straight and long, but not overly large or pointy. It even had the same crevice at the end that was barely noticeable unless you looked super closely. Their eye shape was exactly the same too, both almond-like—but not exactly, a little more rounded and wide. Perseus didn't exactly know what to make of it, seeing as the man was a complete and utter stranger, and only gave him more questions than anything.

Once he was dressed, pulling on his old beat up trainers and a set of folded white socks, the man escorted him from the room and towards the lobby. The entire hotel was ridiculously fancy in its decorations and because of it Perseus was more and more confused on how he ended up at such a place. His mom wasn't well off by any means, not even scrapping by at middle class. They lived modestly with the essentials but they didn't have a lot of spare cash. Mostly they lived pay-check to pay-check, so he was getting more and more on edge the longer he stayed about. As if someone would pop out from behind a golden vase and shout, "You're not worthy!" And douse him with tomatoes or something equally as embarrassing.

If the man noticed any of this however, he didn't let on. Instead, he simply paid for the room with a fancy looking black card that Perseus had never even seen before with a single swipe and lead him to the front doors. This of course was not before placing a firm hand on his shoulder and uttering just loud enough so he could hear him.

"Stay close."

Perseus didn't have time to offer a nod this time before being lead towards the doors, with three women winging the man like his personal body guards. They even looked like bodyguards, wearing all black suits and sunglasses were really tight buns— the only thing strange about them was how small they were in size, even for girls. Perseus half thought he might be taller than the one—smartly he didn't say as much.

They continued to escort them outside the hotel and towards the street, where one of them walked ahead and opened up the door to a long black car with silver accents. Perseus couldn't believe his ears when they gestured for him to get inside. It was like being stuck in some strange dream— limousines and fancy hotels. It was like becoming the boy version of Annie but without the whole orphanage act and adopting a stray dog.

"For the Master and his champion," the tallest of the three spoke.

Perseus couldn't help but think she sounded terribly sick, with how hoarse her words came across, the man however, dismissed her entirely after ushering Perseus inside the car and to slide over so he could get in himself. Before he closed the door he spoke to them directly, making eye contact with all of them in turn despite the dark tinted shades.

"That will do, Alecto." If Perseus was so boggled by their titles to the man he barely noticed the small bow the woman gave him as he added on, "Return home with your sisters, we have much to prepare and so little time."

Before Perseus could ask what the man meant by such a phrase, the door shut right, and they were sent speeding from the hotel and towards the freeway. It was only though the heavily tinted windows that he noticed he wasn't anywhere close to New York anymore. Which was an anomaly to him to say the least, his mother had always said that New York was the safest place for them, but even though he had never been, he had seen enough news channels and postcard pictures to know the Golden Gate Bridge of San Fransisco anywhere. It was just as massive as he'd imagined it to be as well, and a bright beacon of red that even a postcard couldn't do justice to.

He had so many questions, more and more kept flooding his brain the longer he sat in that seat. A seat that was made of fine leather, with perfectly clean floors. The limousine even smelled like a new car, so he knew the man to be rich— though why a rich guy would want anything to do with him he had no idea. Perseus had nothing, quite literally. His mom was missing, his dad was, well not exactly a typical come-and-go parent or a deadbeat but yeah... if this guy was wanting at ransom or something he was going to be out of luck.

Then there was the fancy hotel and the meals, the payment for the car and hotel, or even the refusal to ask questions, it was just so contradictory. It was giving Perseus a headache even thinking about it. He knew his mom didn't know anyone that high up in social status, which begged the question on who this guy even was, and what he wanted with Perseus. Knowing it was a bad idea, Perseus had to ask him—even though he told him not to ask any questions at all. It was eating away at him, like a hole slowly getting bigger and bigger in his stomach.

Stiffening his resolve, and attempting to rip the metaphorical band-aid off so to speak, Perseus stumbled out quickly and without pause. "I know you said no questions—,"

The man didn't even hesitate when cutting him off, midway through his introduction to the topic. With nothing more than a sharp and cold cutting remark that had Perseus wondering if he was about to be like the cat that was killed for his curiosity.

"I did."

"But—," Perseus continued, just after taking a deep breath before adding while fumbling with his hands. It was a nervous twitch his mother tried to break him out of loads of times. She always told him that he ought to look people on the eye when they were speaking to him, otherwise he was being rude. "But, crazy things keep happening to me and I... uh, well are you going to hurt me?"

The man met his eyes for the first time since showing up his hotel room, with an arched brow and confusion marring his otherwise gaunt but smoothed features. His eyes were dark, like eternal black pits that seemed to never end. Perseus half thought he was falling blindly though a tunnel before averting his eyes entirely.

"Hurt you?"

Perseus didn't reply to his question, he really didn't have time to delve into the trauma of public school systems in New York City—literally, stealing lunch money from pre-k children was so lame. Nor did he have the emotional stability to delve into the stories of his mom's terrible ex-boyfriends who were literally the worst people on the planet and deserve to burn in Hell. Instead, he prattled on, as if he had never been interrupted and ignored the confused look from the man seated next to him and his very creepy eyes.

"'Cause if you're looking for ransom I'm kind of broke," He said stopping short before adding offhandedly, despite not truly if it were at all true in the first place, "—and an orphan. And my organs aren't big enough to get a good price on the market so killing me this young is a bad move, really. Hobo Johnny, though Mom just calls him Johnny, told me so."

Out of all the reactions Perseus expected from the man, he had not expected a loud laugh, nor the way his lips curled up in amusement and stayed as so after chuckling more quietly to himself. He was a conundrum, and Perseus was at a loss on what to say or do in such a befuddling situation.

"Ransom," the man spoke in amusement, his lips still curled up at the edges and his eyes bright with mirth. "Gods, I haven't heard that one in ages."

"So..." Perseus paused, more confused than ever as he glanced up at the man, "you're not trying to sell me or something...?"

"No," the man laughed shortly with a snicker before adding with all seriousness and joking pushed far aside, as if he had just flipped a coin and shut off his joy. "I swore an oath to never intentionally bring you to harm."

Perseus raised a brow at that. He had broken loads of promises before and though he didn't think the man would lie to him —call it a gut feeling— that didn't mean he wouldn't break a promise.

"What kind of oath?"

The man looked at him then with a strange glimmer in his eye after such a question. As if he were impressed that Perseus was interested in what exact oath he had made—almost like the six-year old had not only intrigued him but shocked him marginally for the first time since strutting into the hotel room. Perseus of course, didn't notice this strange happening, or how the man's expression of strictness lessened ever so slightly towards him and his questions. He didn't even notice how the man's previous tone changed to a softer one—one that could even be described as an old man falling victim to a child-like curiosity.

"The kind," The man explained in a sort of patience that didn't last long, but stayed steady for those few moments. Seemingly harmless to others but filled in selfish perception's and intrigue towards the matter. "—that I would never break. Unless of course, I wished to end my existence entirely."

This answer however did nothing in reply to the boys question—in fact it didn't even seem like a straightforward answer at all. As if the man had intentionally worded it in a way that the six year old was forced to ask for clarification in a half-backwards statement with furrowed brows and curious green-blue eyes.

"So...," Perseus hesitated unsurely, "you're not going to kill me?"

The man grinned wolfishly, before clarifying. "I'm not going to kill you, nor—," He added on last minutely as he tore his gaze away from the boy and resumed his staring through the darkly tinted windows. "—would I allow anyone else of my station to do so."

"Thanks then," Perseus spoke clearly, as he then turned his gaze outwards to stare out into traffic through the dark coloured glass as well. He mumbled beneath his breath unthinkingly and characteristically sarcastic, still confused about the entire conversation. "...I guess."

It was hard to tell from the windows but Perseus assumed it to be well past noon and closer to nightfall than anything. Mostly because the farther they travelled in the car, which was going very fast in his opinion, it seemed as though the sun was ever so slowly creeping towards the horizon. It was weird to say the least because Perseus remembered it clearly being morning when he had first slid into the vehicle.

Not only that but he had thought San Fransisco was similar to New York in the ways that it took forever to manoeuvre in and out of the city. The driver of their limousine seemed to have no problems whatsoever though. Perseus swore he had only looked away for a second when the visions of buildings had mostly disappeared and he was suddenly on a less crowded interstate heading towards a ring-like road, a fair distance from the long and red coloured bridge.

Before he could stop himself, Perseus found himself asking another question to the man seated beside him,
looking strangely on edge.

"Where are we going?"

The man sighed exasperatedly, before flicking his gaze from the side to staring directly at the sliding window like area that separates the passengers from the driver. This little action had Perseus half wishing he had kept his trap firmly shut. Even more so when the mysterious and darkly clad man replied sharply, "What did I say about questions?"

"But I'm bored!" Perseus groaned, as he let his head bang against the leather seat.

The man wasn't at all impressed or convinced.

"Then be bored in silence," was all he offered in remedy to his problem, which had Perseus groaning even more so in boredom.

At least his mom would play eye-spy or put the radio on when they were in the car. Sitting and doing nothing was when Perseus got into trouble, and the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble with a guy he didn't really know in a fancy car. Knowing him and his bad luck he'd somehow start the car on fire or some sort of monster would appear and shatter all the windows just for fun. Then the mysterious guy would be super angry and Percy would be in a lot of trouble—like always. Bad things always happened to him, especially when he wasn't kept occupied. His mom always used to say he was a magnet for bad things.

"You could just answer my question," Perseus brought up, not about to stop talking simply because the mysterious man wasn't a big talker. He was good at filling the silences and really, the guy already knew lots of things about him, so why couldn't he know something as silly as where he was taking him. Perseus added on, "It's not even the dangerous sort of question— like my dad and him being a you-know-what."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as the car went to a screeching stop. Perseus nearly went flying, but somehow managed to lodge his arms onto the door handle just in time so he didn't bust his nose on the seats in front of them. Curious, he glanced out the dark window to find that it had only been a quick change in traffic lights that had them stopping so suddenly. As Perseus reacquainted him bottom with his seat, and carefully repositioned his seatbelt— he glanced upward to be met with darkly coloured, yet, burning irises. The man next to him, looked to have been figuratively slapped in the face by his words, by how he went so pale, and seemed to have many questions on how Perseus knew such things.

Perseus sighed as he clarified how he knew what he did to the stranger that had sort-of kidnapped him slash was acting as his pseudo-guardian at the moment.

"Mom told me some things at the beach."

The man looked, if anything, even more exhausted by that reply than anything else spoken in the last hour between.  Which wasn't exactly a look Perseus wasn't used too, most adults that have to deal with him get tired out pretty quick. His mom always said it was because he was a very busy child with a lot of energy. Some of her not-so-nice ex-boyfriends liked to say it was because he was a freak of nature and an annoying kid. If only Brian from the Target on South Avenue knew just how much of a freak he was.

The man looked pensive for a moment though definitely exasperated too. Percy waited silently as he stared at the man, waiting for any sort of recognition or statement to be said aloud. Finally, the man gave a heavy sigh, and replied leaving little room for Percy to argue, "Someplace safe."

"Is it that Camp my mom talked about at Montauk before..." Percy began to ask in curiosity, his eyes brimming with interest before he was swiftly cut off by a curt and resolute reply from the man next to him.

"No."

Percy frowned deeply at the man's reply. He was really getting annoyed by the guys refusal to answer his questions. They weren't even hard ones like math or English homework. They were just normal, everyday questions. The type even Hobo Johnny could answer with no issue. "But she said that's the only safe places for—"

"No." The man snapped coldly, cold enough that Percy let the matter drop entirely with his lip only barely pouting and not fully pouting. "Now enough questions."

A moment passed and then another and before he could
help himself (blame it on his attention issues and lack of focus) he tried once again to annoy the answers out of the stranger that made a promise not to sell him or his organs.

"But—"

"Perseus Jackson."

Percy found himself groaning loudly in agitation at the use of his name. His full name— the name he hated with an absolute passion. How was it fair that a complete stranger knew his full name? The one he hated, when he didn't even know the stranger's first name. It was just rude and creepy and a little bit weird. Why was his life so strange? He just wanted his mom and some answers to his not-at-all crazy questions. It's not like he was asking for a kidney. (Hobo Johnny said that those organs sold really well on the Black Market and people had two of them so they could easily donate them.)

"It's not fair!" Percy exclaimed, not even caring in the least bit about how whiny and little he sounded. It wasn't his fault that the guy wouldn't tell him anything and now he was whining. That was all the other guy, everything was his fault. "How come you get to know everything and I don't. How am I supposed to trust you when I don't even know your name!?"

The stranger seemed seconds from blowing his fuse, looking much more menacing than he had before, even when he had spat out his full name like a curse. Percy knew he was close to getting the guy to crack, even just a little bit. Who knew that whining and complaining so much could get the tides to turn his way.

"Names have power," the man finally settled on, which was great to know but still not helpful when it didn't even marginally answer his question in the least bit. "You will learn this."

Percy was about to speak when a thought suddenly struck him over the head. Like full on frying pan clang and bang sudden realization. If the stranger said names had power and that he didn't want to say it and that Percy shouldn't ask questions maybe he was one of them. The you-know-what's that his mom said he shouldn't ever speak about unless he wanted to gain the wrong sorts of attention. Maybe that's what this guy was trying to avoid with him. The wrong sort of attention. He felt like a genius at the realization as he fired off with a sudden feeling that he finally got something right in this entirely backwards and messed up field trip. Maybe, he would see his mom towards the end of it when they finally got to where they were going.

"Is your name ... are you one of ,,, you know... them?" Percy questioned trying to find ways to ask the question without outright saying the words just in case he was just crazy. Which wouldn't be a stupid thing to think at all considering the strange things that happen to him on nearly a daily basis. "Does your name have power like my dads?"

Percy held his breath for a moment while the man contemplated his answer. The dark haired boy nearly passed out in waiting for his reply before he heard a disgruntled reply. It was more of an 'annoyed at myself' and less of an 'angry at the world' sounding which made Percy a little bit more cheerful in his endeavours to continue on pestering the strange man, "Yes."

"So what do I call you then?" Percy asked curiously because he knew the stranger's actual name was off the table. No winning that argument even if he tried his puppy eyes on him. But he needed to call him something other than tall, dark, scary guy and the stranger. He needed a name, or a title that works decently well that Percy can say without possible exploding universe and getting the wrong sort of attention. Or whatever it was that happened when he said the wrong thing.

That question in particular seemed to stump the stranger. As if he had never truly considered on what Percy could call him in turn, which was weird but made sense. If Percy was a you-know-what he'd be a little weirded out on the idea of nicknames too but maybe the nickname would stick and he'd like it better than his actual name. That's what happened with Percy, because no one can ever say Perseus right at his schools and it sounds more often than not like a rattlesnake is having a coughing fit midway through. There was too many hissing noises in his name.

Despite his mind wandering off the deep end, Percy was swiftly brought back to the present as the stranger spoke simply and almost shyly a minute or so later in reply to his previous question.

"...in another lifetime I would have been your uncle."

Percy knew he was not good at school... or remembering things... or math. Really, there wasn't a lot of things he was good at but there were a few things he would ever forget and one of them was that his mom had no one, much like he had no one besides his mom. So before he could even think Percy blurted out. "Mom doesn't have any brothers, she's alone."

"True," the stranger replied with a ghost of a grin. One that didn't make Percy want to crawl out of his skin but beam up at him almost in a mirror-like smirk. "...but your father does."

Chapter Text

As it turned out the final destination to this entirely odd road trip was in fact nowhere.

Not a place called nowhere, not a city or town or small cabin in the middle of nowhere, but legitimately nowhere. Percy had done reliably well at not asking any more questions and keeping his mouth firmly shut after the very strange conversation with this stranger turned guardian-like person, who literally swore an oath to keep him safe and was in fact one of his godly relatives. If that wasn't a mind bend and migraine inducing thought process in and of itself to begin with.

See Percy, if given the choice and chance, would have asked more questions about where they were going. Like millions really, he was naturally a curious person—sue him if you must. Never in all of his chaotic and out-there answers to his not-spoken questions did he ever contemplate there end destination being here though.

Here of course being a relative and rather horrid explanation to where exactly he was being dumped off. They had turned off the main roads at least two hours ago, and slipped onto an unmarked gravel road headed straight into a mass of trees. The trees of course, much like most in California, which is the state he presumed to still be inside of, were very tall, very thick and needled. Well, not all of them, but the tallest ones were excluding the very thick ones covered in chunky dark and lightly reddish bark.

Though driving through the never ending foliage on an increasingly narrowed dirt road seemed to be the least of his worries and surprises on this sudden road trip. As then the road decided to make itself a nice snake-like path. With sharp corners, random dead ends and increasingly less and less road to be driven on. The ground changed too as they continued on this weird journey, to less dark and reddish dirt to a slate like stone and staggering cliff like road sides over looking oddly shaped hills with only patches of grass to be found in increasing odd places.

Percy couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when they finally did pull to a stop at least an hour lost into this ridiculously weird detour into the Californian woods. He also recalled his mom saying something a long time again about never following a stranger out into the woods, or to his car, or to just not go with a stranger in general. Yet, here he was, in the middle of nowhere on an unmarked road ready for the taking. Or whatever the phrase was that people said before getting murdered and their organs sold on the black market. He'd have to ask Hobo Johnny the next time he sees him... if he ever sees him again that is. Being brutally murdered in the woods would make the conversation rather difficult to have.

The guardian-god, as Percy was beginning to call the stranger next to him as Uncle was too odd and he couldn't for the life of him remember which Grecian gods were his dad’s brothers and which his nephews, or own children, stepped out first. Percy stayed seated, fastened tight and unwilling to move before his own door was pulled open. It was with a rampant heart and sweaty palms that Percy forced himself to unbuckle and step out into the more rock than gravel road and glance around at their sudden place of stop.

Just like he had explained before, they were literally in the middle of nowhere.

"Can I ask questions yet?" Percy spoke up suddenly, his tone taking on a disturbingly whine-like sound. The one he used most often to butter his mom up into giving him another cookie from the cookie jar despite her saying he could only have one before supper.

"No."

Percy could only huff out in annoyance in reply. Since finding out his resident guardian god was in fact an all-powerful immortal being, he knew better than to push his luck. The last thing he wanted was to be chained to a rock and have vultures pecking out his eyes. Or be trapped under the sky and holding the weight of the world on his back for eons. He was many things—, a little dumb, a touch naive and a lot reckless— but he wasn't a masochist.

Kicking at a loose pebble near his shoe he patiently waited next to the guardian god. Said god who was doing nothing but just standing there patient as ever while tapping his foot and checking his watch ever so often. It was a simple watch, with a black band and odd looking numbers for a clock face that seemed to move at a dizzily looking rate. Percy wondered if it was imbedded with magic—that would be super cool. He'd probably like learning how to read clocks a lot more if there was magic in them.

Percy's scrambled thoughts were suddenly put to a halt at the crunching of tree branches towards the left side of the road. Anxiously, he peered up to guardian god in the hopes of an explanation only to be met with a neutral expression and an increasingly loud tapping of the man's foot. Percy half-wanted to ask if the guy was nervous. He seemed nervous anyway, Percy always picked at his shirt when he was nervous or began to ramble a lot. Maybe the guardian god tapped his foot when he was. He had a friend back in New York who did that, though he also liked to yell out random things that didn't make sense. Percy's mom just called him a special boy learning his inside voice—Percy just thought his friend hadn't been taught manners yet.

Percy had just opened his mouth to ask a question—one of many truthfully—on what they were doing in the woods and if the guardian god was anxious and if they were waiting for something when a strange looking lady stepped out of the woods.

Now Percy had seen many strange looking people, it's part of the overall living experience in a not-so-great neighborhood in New York. But this lady, she had to take the cake for the strangest looking person Percy had ever caught sight of.

For one she wore nothing but a patchwork styled fur coat for clothes, and her legs and what he could see of her arms were covered in white looking scars, scratches and dirt. Her hair, which was weird blonde-silver colour had literal twigs and leaves caught up in it’s mess of knots and matts. Her face had the darkest eyes he had ever seen, almost like black holes that narrowed quickly at catching him in her sights, and her face shape was just.. off. He wanted to call it pointy but it wasn't, not quite. She had a very strong looking jaw and a nose with a thick ridge down the middle and a piece missing from the one nostril. She was pretty, though in a wild and sort of intimidating way.

Percy however, couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was somewhere he truly wasn't supposed to be. His skin was quickly covered in goosebumps and his gut was screaming at him to get the heck out of there and cut his losses. It was wrong. So very and deeply wrong it was almost funny had he not been terrified of this very tall and very thin looking woman who looked five seconds away from ripping into him with her own teeth.

"Lord Pluto," the woman greeted stonily, barely bothering with glancing at Percy who was huddled inward at the other god's side. The younger boy was so deep into his thoughts of not-at-all concealed panic of whether to fight or flight that he didn't even register what the woman had called his resident guardian god.

"She-wolf," the man replied back, looking far more put together and normal about the entire situation than Percy was at the moment.

The woman huffed, seemingly annoyed at the lack of respect but knowing better than to push the matter. Perhaps, it was for that reason she felt comfortable enough in baiting the other god into a quick snipping of bitter word play.

"What troubles have you brought to my doorstep this century?" She harrumphed with little expression. "I am, after all, still in the dog house from that last scheme of yours going awry."

The man cleared his throat loudly at that, while Percy continued to dart his eyes back and forth from each of them. Purposely, forcing himself not to start running for the hills or leap at the woman and start an uncalled for altercation. He was fine, everything was fine. Despite that horrible nauseating feeling in his gut and the sweating of his palms and racing heart in his chest. There was no reason to panic about seeing some weird lady in the woods and being dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Everything was perfectly, and completely, fine.

"This time it's not my troubles I'm dropping off but one of my siblings." Percy half-heartedly heard the man next to him speak, though incidentally zoned out for much of the rest. Only clueing in towards the end when his guardian god slipped out in a not exactly warm statement, "...I am simply the messenger. You wouldn't shoot the messenger now would you, dear friend?"

Percy nearly fell over as the woman suddenly let out a loud bark of laughter, one that turned his blood to ice and burned his lungs with coals.

"Ask Mercury what your 'dear friend' thinks of lying and scheming messengers and that should be all you need in reply."

Percy was befuddled on why one of the planets in the solar system would know what this odd lady thought about mailmen but decided not to look too deep into it. It wasn't his business and his mom had always told him not to be so nosy. Not that he listened much to her advice before but he was trying his best now, alright?

"So testy," the god next to the younger boy drawled with a twisted smirk across his lips before letting out a soft sigh and a sarcastic roll of his eyes. "Very well. I'm assuming you have heard of Perseus Jackson?"

At his name Percy had to work double time to not sway on his feet and pass out right there. He didn't even care that the god had used his full-name, a name at which he hated because no one could ever seem to say it right when he was in school. Though between the adrenaline coursing through his veins that was making him very light headed that was the last thing racing though his mind. Even the nauseating amount of fear spinning like a spiders web in his belly was placed on the back burner of things worthy of being thought about in his muddled head space.

"Perhaps," the woman supplied in a sultry voice that was almost worse sounding that her usual bite of tone.

It was one that seemed almost more dangerous, sharper and more cruel. Especially when she stated, almost like it was no skin off her back, a little more of what she knew of him. Likely, from not at all reliable sources if what she was insinuating at was to be thought true. Percy couldn't let himself linger on that much either, the thoughts would overwhelm him if he did and then he would be completely and utterly useless. Not that he wasn't marginally so already.

"Last I heard he was your problem now my Lord of Riches," She hummed with an air of arrogance and blatant oversight on the child's importance to the slight shift in conversation. "...what with the monster hoards on his tail across the continent and the deceased mortal. Not to mention his parentage leaves him strictly out of my jurisdiction."

Percy's guardian-god looked admittedly taken back by the woman's thoughts. Percy watched in surprised as his makeshift guardian's neutral face flickered with blatant uncertainty before steeling itself into impenetrable stone.

"Yes, well," The god mumbled, with a seemingly lack of refine and elegance to his words "Now he is most certainly within your jurisdiction, and even given the shining thread of approval from the Three Morai."

The woman's face fell instantly with eyes narrowing and her teeth barring together. Even her lips curled back in a silent snarl. Percy couldn't help but take a step back at the sight. The smell of danger and threat spiking the air with a chill as he did. Percy would have loved nothing more than to get back into that dark windowed car and never look back as they sped away at breakneck speeds. But unlike him, it seemed his guardian god wasn't at all alarmed or even worried at the display— if anything he seemed to feed of the energy that was exhibited from it.

"The Morai?" The woman snapped with sharp teeth and her eyes still stuck into feline-like skits. "Just what sort of schemes are you meddling in Pluto?"

Percy filed away the name drop, for the second time for further analysis. Though he couldn't think much on it now he definitely could later. Perhaps, it would given him some closure on remembering who exactly was his makeshift guardian god at the moment. Though the name of a planet really wasn't all too inspiring. Especially since even he could blearily remember it being not only the farthest from the sun but one of the coldest and smallest as well. Was it even technically a planet anymore? That seemed to constantly be up to debate as it was.

"Dangerous ones," his guardian god replied, Pluto as the woman seemed to call him most often. "Ones most likely to cut me as sure as my father's Scythe and damn me to the depths of Tartarus."

Perhaps, it was the adrenaline maybe, it was the once again building of fear in his stomach that was slowly crawling up his esophagus. Either way, the names dropped and admittance to a dangerous scheme with the weird woman from the trees had Percy feeling as though he was balancing on the edge of a sharpened blade. That one shift in movement would sent him swiftly to his death. Though that had little to do with the situation and the more with the soul sucking depths that the mention of a scythe and Tartarus sent his racing mind into. He didn't know the significant of either but something deep within him screamed instinctively that both were worse than death, never ending painful and overall petrifying the young boy with fear.

"Very well," the woman replied, though it was obvious she thought the entire thing to be nothing more than a foolhardy plea and not at all a serious thought. Not that Percy had any idea what they were speaking about truly either.

It was as though they were having two separate conversations at once with one another. One vocalized in strange wordplay and teasing barbs inflicted and the other silent and hidden in their minds behind layers of magic, concern, pity and annoyance. Though Percy didn't ponder either of these thoughts long, when the woman was suddenly beckoning him forward with gestures, while focusing on speaking to the other god as she did.

"Bring the child forward," she spoke as offhandedly, as one would ask a companion to pass the salt at dinner. "—let me assess him and I'll offer my decision."

Before he could think of any possible response to refuse her, Percy was shoved forward. A lead like weight in the shape of his guardian god’s hand was held steady on his shoulder, but ice cold. He wondered if the god was always so ice-like to the touch as he was placed directly into the path of the previously termed, She-wolf.

She was far more intimidating up close, her eyes wider, more cold and ice like despite their blackened colour. Her skin was polished in what looked to be moonlight by the sheer silver dust that seemed to cling to her pores outside of the mud, dirt and leaves stuck to it. Though what frightened him most was her mouth. Cruelly held in a tight smirk, purposely accenting her elongated and dagger like canines that held an ivory colour. They contrasted heavily with the blood-like colour of her lips, tinted from whatever meal she had hunted for hours prior to their sudden meeting.

Merely inches from the woman, Percy felt his breath hitch and his plans break out in a clammy sweat. This only intensified as the woman reached out a nail bitten hand to his neck and forced his hair away from his left ear and lowered her jaw towards it. He half-thought she was going to rip out his throat in the way she bared his neck to her but instead he was held in tandem as she inhaled deeply through her nape. As if slowly but surely tasting whatever smells that clung desperately to his skin from the drive over. Percy wanted to push her away, to shove her from him and run for the hills, but he didn't. The hand still placed heavily on his shoulder kept him complaint and as still as a marble-carved statue.

The boy of six did his best to not take offence when she swiftly pulled away with a sneer filling her features and her brows furrowed in a scowl at the god overhead. He half-wondered if he truly smelt as horrible as she was making it out to be. He didn't think he was that bad really, he had showered that morning after all, and even brushed his teeth no more than a couple hours ago.

"Sea spawn," She muttered in disgust, before lifting his right arm, and picking and prodding at the skin hidden not hidden by his shirt before moving towards his abdomen.

There she did pull up his top, much to Percy's embarrassment and let out a tsk at his scrawny, and pale skinned figure. Percy knew he was small, with jutted out ribs and easily spotted processes along his spin. He had always been slim though, no matter what food his mother made or brought home he could never seem to sprout up like the other boys in his grade in height and weight. It simply melted off him.  She only hummed in approval when letting her eye scan to his legs, they were longer, still slim and lacking any definite muscle tone but the woman didn't seem completely annoyed at the lack of meat on his bones there at least.

"How am I ‘sea-spawn’?" Percy couldn't help but ask, feeling as though he had been insulted without even knowing it. The woman ignored his question before glancing back at his guardian god and stating shortly. 

"He has potential, but lacks any proper training."

"I'm only six. What's that even mean?!" Percy fired back, his fear now spurring into a fiery anger at her words. What had this word lady expected? Some ripped six year old like on the cover of those trashy magazines at his mom's work at the old convenience store back in New York?

"It means you're small..." The woman stated simply before going in further detail, which was trusted to drive the point home. Such details had Percy instantly raising his hackles in agitation however. "—skinny, and underdeveloped. Tell me have you ever played on a sports team, or ate a balanced meal with the needs of a young and growing child?"

Now Percy could take a lot of jabs and prods about his small frame, even about his messy hair or his worn and torn clothes but this lady had no right. Especially when she looked to have been living off grid in the bushes for god’s know how long. She literally had twigs and mud in her hair—Percy looked a far sight better than she did.

"Yeah well," he snapped coldly at the strange women. "—you're not all muscle-y and model-like either so I'd shut your trap."

Percy heard rather than saw his guardian-god next to him inhale sharply at his words. Perhaps, he should have stopped talking at that point however, he never had been the most intelligent of kids and often caused more problems than he solved by opening his mouth. Hence, why he continued on flapping his yap with no idea that he was perhaps going a tad too far in verbal quips.

"...I eat just fine thank you very much and sports are stupid."

The women across from him simply arched her brow and let her lips curl into almost sarcastic looking grin. As if he had wadded directly into a trap of hers unknowingly.

"Stupid, are they?" She remarked.

"Yeah. They are." He huffed, meeting her dark eyed stare with his own hardened green ones. Percy was not about to back down from whatever verbal stand off was happening between the two of them. Gone was his sudden anxiety and instead what filled him was a low burning anger. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, granted, but a far better one than the ice water of fear that had previously flowed like rivers in his veins.

A moment of silence passed after his last words. One moment, two and then three. Long enough that Percy was once again feeling that sickening cold trickle into his veins and the fire in his belly snuff out as quickly as it had burned. Thankfully, it was quickly ignited once more by the woman's next phrase—once that didn't exactly inspire the same anger, but an annoyance at the least. One mainly bore of frustration than anything else in particular. It was as if she could sense the change in his temper. Almost like she could see the waging ware of flight and fight and also preferred the latter of two if given the choice.

"Quiet fiery for a sea spawn don't you think, Lord Pluto?" She hummed, still with her one brow arched before clicking her tongue in disapproval just before her next words. "That temper however, could easily become his downfall and demise."

It was here that Percy had to force himself not to interrupt the woman. Truthfully, he would have instantly if his guardian god had not placed a tight grip upon his shoulder as if to keep him in place and enforce a tactile warning to not push the wild woman in front of him. Especially as she prattled onwards about his faults and lacking in what she deemed to be the most important of qualities. Percy had to force himself to tune most of it out before he really worked himself up into a fit.

"...He'd need a tight leash and strict regime to even step foot into our Camps," She finally finished off with a narrowed gaze. Though it soon lessened to something much more peculiar.

Percy admittedly was great at noticing the little details with his always running mind, even with the medications that his mother tried to keep him on to limit his day dreaming and worsening hyperactivity. The one detail he couldn't help but notice in this strange woman's face was her eyes. Before they had been narrowed and cold but suddenly they were almost warm, flickering with something unrecognizable. It wasn't like her usual stares, disinterested and annoyed as she stared him up and down in evaluation. But almost... pondering. As if she had finally found something that stopped her from dismissing him after her recent up-close and personal assessment. 

"But..." she said slowly, as if the thought was being pulled out of her, "...he has the spirit of a warrior. Something so few of our heroes hold."

"So you'll train him?" His guardian god asked without hesitation, as if the thought of the woman's hadn't surprised him in the least. As if it was something he had already known about Percy despite having just met him.

The woman huffed in contemplation before replying in like, "A word in private first. I shall known what troublesome currents I am wadding into before agreeing to join in the sudden swim upstream."

Percy couldn't help but release his breathe when his guardian god and the woman stepped off towards the same tree line the woman and came from to speak. He knew they walked away for a reason and that it would be incredibly rude for him to eavesdrop but he had always been a curious child. So it really shouldn't have come to a surprise of either of the adults as he tried his hardest to tune into what they were so heatedly discussing. Any kid would have tried the same, he reasoned with himself. It was exactly why his mom had refused to ever tell him directly not to do something because then he would feel an even bigger urge to do that something that he wasn't supposed to do.

Though it seemed whatever guardian-god magic his companion had used was anti-eavesdropping because he couldn’t even read their lips or hear a whisper from either of them. Like usual he soon got bored of trying and failing to figure out what they were speaking and instead took pleasure in kicking around a couple of loose rocks and trying to see how far he could kick one. He wasn't very good at it and once he nearly fell down from accidentally undoing one of his shoe laces.

Eventually, whatever they were speaking about came to an end with a red faced woman, looking to have just been handed a rotten deal and a smug looking guardian god. If Percy hadn't been curious before he most definitely was now. Though that feeling was soon tampered down into nothingness as the sudden fight or flight feeling hit him once again as the woman drew closer. She stopped a good meter or so away, his guardian god moving towards the left and giving a short distance between them. It was like a weird sort of stand off triangle sort of shape, and Percy was the tip of it.

"Come forward, Perseus Jackson." The strange woman remarked coolly, her voice holding something much different to what it had before. It was almost as though Percy was being compelled to listen to it. Like it was an order he could not refuse no matter how hard he tried.

On shaking legs with sweaty palms, Percy moved his feet in almost trance-like state forward with wide eyes. He had a million questions on his tongue but for the life of him he couldn't get his mouth to work. He could only move forward and listen to this weird woman in front of him, who now that he was much closer seemed to looked a bit different too. It was like she was glowing but that's not possible because normal people didn't glow and there was no way this woman was a god too. He seriously couldn't be that unlucky, right? His mom had told him not to trust any god’s but his dad—not that he had been listening to that advice very well recently given his guardian-god companionship at the moment.

"Bare your neck for me." She ordered when he was no more than a foot away from her, his feet stuck to the ground as if encased in now dried cement.

He felt the rising anger in his belly that screamed at him to refuse. To not obey, to tell this strange woman to go away and never glance his way again. To scream at her in rage and anger that he wouldn't submit— that he wasn't under her command. He wasn't like her.

She seamed to notice his blatant refusal as his teeth clenched together and his jaw clicked close tightly. It was as if she expected such a reaction. Suddenly that glow that Percy had noticed earlier seemed to brighten and as much as he wanted to look away he couldn't, Percy was utterly captivated and held within it. If she asked him to jump off a cliff he would have done so merrily and without pause. It was a horrible feeling, one that had him both righteously furious and wanting to sob in a sudden upheaval of distress.

"Listen to me, Perseus," She suddenly spoke, her voice guttural sounding but just a firm and stern as before. It was just loud enough to cleave through Percy's racing and panicked thoughts. "I need to scent you in order for our deal to be sound and our training to begin."

'What deal, what training?' Percy had no clue to what she was talking about but he was helpless in asking. Though his facial expressions must have said more than his tongue could, as suddenly he was given an answer as he slowly let his head tilt to the side.

"A deal made for your survival a transaction centred around training for your future."

Percy didn't offer a reply. He didn't know what he could say to that as he had no idea what she was talking about, not really. As she leaned her face towards his neck, her nose scrunched in distaste as if he smelled truly awful, he felt his hands instinctively clench into fists. It was only when her dirtied and scarred nose rubbed light as a feather across his exposed jugular vein that he felt something different stir around him. Almost like magic.

Percy didn't notice a difference in himself, not at first at least. Not until she pulled away and took a step back, it was then that he felt relaxed. As if whatever magic she had used had calmed his warring instincts on whether to run or stand his ground. He wasn't at peace, not in the slightest as he was still held captive at a standstill under her dark eyed gaze. But he no longer felt the need to scream in distress or lunge at her and claw out her eyes.

"You will have a hard life, for that there is no doubt." The woman supplied, her hand lingering in touch as it danced across his cheek bone.

Percy wanted to pull away from the touch, to do something other than stand there like he was carved from marble. Yet he couldn't. It was as though all the fight had left his body, melting away into a puddle beneath his feet. The woman though took no notice of it as all, as she continued her ministrations all the while delivering a rather horrible sounding soliloquy about how terrible Percy's life would be.

"...one with pain and bitterness, betrayal and destruction just as all my children before you. Yours will be no different." Percy had to force himself not to snap at her that he wasn't one of her children. The whole idea of her words just rubbed him wrong all over. It made him feel itchy and rash-like across his skin.

"Unlike all the others you will be subject to maintaining a balance few are privy too. That makes you special in your own right." She hummed thoughtfully, her eyes meeting his darkly for just a moment before zeroing in on the god behind him, meeting him in a level stare as she spoke further.

"Different. Powerful. Strong." She listed, her fingertips now migrating from his cheek to the longer locks of his hair, tugging pointedly at a few of his more unruly tufts and curls. "We have much work to do to change your fragility before your time comes."

"Sounds terrible," Percy couldn't help but say in reply. Unsure if he was supposed to comment at all. But from then small huff of a laugh from the strange woman he had made an okay choice.

"The life of a hero often is, but to reject my offer and this chance you are given by fates...," She trailed off her hand going still and her eyes flashing to his in a mix of pry and concern. As if whatever she had spoken to with his resident guardian god was truly that unnerving if he didn't accept their help. Which it probably was, even if his mom had told him not to trust anyone but his dad—especially the gods. "... well it would be much, much worse for you in the end."

Percy didn't know what to think. He wanted to listen to his moms warnings, as she hadn't been wrong about anything yet. But the idea of not choosing this odd lady's offer also worried him. Made him feel like he was betraying something super important, something that he wouldn't get to make better of or change later in life.

There was also the fact that his resident guardian god had told him outright that he had promised to never harm him. The type of promise that could even kill a god—, so he knew the resident guardian-god he had chauffeuring him around meant business. The only issue of the matter was that Percy had never been good with making choices. Even simple ones like whether he wanted a peanut butter and honey sandwich or a peanut butter and jam sandwich. But dropping a literally life of death decision on him, out of a blue as well... well Percy didn't know how to handle it.

Perhaps, that is why he delegated his choice half-heartedly to the resident guardian-god by giving him one of those 'what-do-I-do?' looks that his mom always found both exasperating and endearing. His mind was made up, or perhaps persuaded was a better way to put it, when the very tall, and very dark haired god positioned slightly behind him offered him a nod in agreement to the woman's offer.

With that more or less decided, Percy chewed at his lower lip before asking a question. It was a rather pointless question overall, but an important one to him nonetheless. He only bothered to ask it, knowing that all eyes were on him in waiting, as the woman carefully extracted her hand from his mused and unruly hair.

"Will I see you again? I mean you're family, right?" Percy asked his guardian god, but when the man avoided his eyes and likewise answering, seeming to hesitate As if he was being purposely carful on which words he chose next, still, Percy fired off once more and hardly waited for the reply. "Or what about my dad? Will I meet him?"

The man still did not answer and Percy felt like a lead ball had rolled into his gut. It seemed typical really. No adult had ever really lasted long in his life, his dad being a perfect example. It didn't matter that he was a god and he had better things to do or more important stuff to worry about. It didn't matter because it still sucked and Percy hated it. He hated it because he got attached to the few adults in his life quickly without a second thought and then was always let down or dropped entirely. Left to loathe his tendencies and selfishly wish that things had been different.

"I'll be around..." the god finally managed to say, which Percy knew was just to make him feel better about the situation. It was a code that Percy was far too familiar with from adults. 'I'm abandoning you but don't be upset please cause then I'll feel guilty.'  Percy listened half-heartedly, with his stomach feeling heavier and heavier as the seconds went by and the god rambled onwards in explanation.

"...Mainly to check on your progress as you are an investment of mine. A gamble, of course, but one I don't wish to loose."

Percy forced himself to not think too hard on the words ‘gamble’ and ‘investment’. More and more Percy was starting to sound like an object and less like a person. Maybe he was being sold to this god and that’s why he needed training. It would be typical really, Percy never have an easy life. Hobo Johnny always did warn him about the people that sold kids to other people for money too—saying that Percy was not only pretty enough for the job but small enough to tuck away in a hideaway on a ship to be trafficked. Maybe that's what was going on now but at a godly scale.

"Your father... well I can't speak for my brother but if I know him as well as I do he won't be able to help himself from peaking in at times." The god finally managed to string together in response to Percy's last question.

Percy found that a little odd as for as long a she had known his mom and him had never once seen his dad after and abandoning them when he was a baby. Maybe he was just really good at keeping a low profile or something—or maybe his guardian god is a liar. That's what the strange lady had called him before. Both seemed like easily probable answers, but before Percy could think much else on the topic or hear more excuses about not being around the weird lady stepped in and took control of the situation.

As if the woman had been reading his thoughts and cataloging his slowly declining moods, the woman hummed loudly at the back of her throat before Percy met her eyes swiftly at the sound. Dark brown, much closer to black burned bright against the swirling mix of sea green and cerulean blue.

"Say good bye to your patron, Perseus"

Feeling more drained than he had a few moments before, Perseus mumbled out a short goodbye with a fleeting wave as his guardian god gave him a strange sort of smile and a nod in his direction. It was as if whatever magic the lady had done on him was slowly draining what little energy he had in his stores. The day had been a lot truthfully, and he could only be so grateful when the woman cut the goodbyes short. Even if he had no clue what the word ‘patron’ meant and why it was being used for his guardian god. He would also need to bring up the name issue. Percy refused to go around by his full name day in and day out if they were meant to train together for extended periods of time.

That would suck big time.

As if she noticed how lost he became in his thoughts the woman took it upon herself to latch her hand around the base of his neck with a firm and grounding hold as she began to lead him back towards the tree line. Unable to stop himself as he was lead closer and deport into the foliage, Percy sent one one last glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t too shocked to find that where the god had once stood there was nothing but the wind and trees to greet him.

Little did he notice the way the grass and rocks that the god had stood on were now wilted and decayed. From the crumbled rocks sprouted grey coloured stemmed flowers, with six petaled blossoms the colour of snow and ash with yellowed shoots of pollen erupting from the centres

Percy was quickly snapped back to the rocky terrain underfoot as the stranger woman, the she-wolf as his guardian had called her once, guided him deeper and deeper into the foliage to start his new life.

Chapter Text

The She-Wolf of Rome was beginning to think she had perhaps bitten off far more than she could chew by agreeing to Lord Pluto's demands. Her part of this so-called play at destiny was supposed to be minimal and simple. Train the Greek out of Perseus Jackson— that's all she had been placed in his path for. Yet, it seems the Grecian aspects of the young boy had not only taken root deep into his very being but refused to be killed off, much like a very persistent weed in a garden. Every tool she knew, every trick and tip she had hidden up her sleeves failed in far more ways than she could keep count. Perseus Jackson for all intents and purposes was irrevocably Grecian down to his very bones without even trying.

In fact, Lupa likely would have far less of an issue with this little snag in her part of the plan if the boy had been refusing to follow her teachings on purpose. As it was he was trying, hard too with every task he delivered he tried his utmost best to follow the principles of Rome and yet, it still ended up twisted and demented.

By the third month of trying and failing to get him to fall in line like she would with any other of her wayward pups she called it a lost cause and focused on what she could do to help the boy. Perhaps, when he was older she would try again but for now she placed a pin in the transition of Greek to Rome and instead turned her attention to making him a survivor. Even the Greeks had instincts to live, thrive and stay alive.

She would turn Perseus Jackson into a wolf, un-tameable, as unlike her other children he knew no limits or boundaries and was constantly exceeding at what he did. He was much like the sea, with far too much of his father's blood running in him that would not be contained. She had unfortunately learned such a lesson very early on in the beginnings of their stay together.

She started with the basics, ignoring every rule and guide she had followed since the raising of Romulus and Remus. Every morning she would send the boy out to forage with the other pups with their mothers keeping watch. He would bring back his finds to her, she would grade his success and then he would spend the rest of the morning tracking and learning the ways of the forest. This often extended into lunch as the boy was clumsy amongst the trees and his climbing skills most definitely left much to be improved. Slowly progress came, much sooner and easier than it did at their previous attempts.

Within weeks he was keeping pace with the pack and their tracking of prey, he could locate a water source and find his way back home on scent alone from miles past. She often wondered if he was excelling so quickly from other methods but had no grounds to base her findings on. It often took years for any of her previous cubs to widen their senses as easily as Perseus did.

When tracking became second nature and his footwork and climbing improved to an acceptable level, Lupa allowed him to attend the hunts and eventually attempt one of his own. He was unsuccessful until his third try, it was then that he brought back his first kill—the entire pack had been elated for him despite it only being a squirrel.

With his nature basics coming alone reasonably within the first three months, Lupa slowly worked their afternoons into lessons as well. She started off simple, as the pack mothers had spent the afternoons previously on teaching the basics of reading, writing, language and mathematics to him. His dyslexia caused them issues like most of her previous cubs but with the lessons begrudgingly switched to Ancient Greek rather than Latin he soon improved. Now they were working on making Latin into his secondary language once he was beyond average in Greek. It was an uphill battle but one Lupa was sure they were to win by pure spite alone.

With his basics on schooling excelling and his increasing refusal to sit still and learn much longer Lupa was forced to enact a more strict schedule into the workings to keep the boy moving forward along his thread of gold. The mornings were still mostly reserved for foraging hunting and tracking, depending on what was needed for the early starts of the day.

The later morning slowly became his schooling hours, limited to two hours of study before lunch. The afternoons were left mainly for practical placement. While the she-wolf spent many hours later in the day explaining the hierarchy of a pack and perfected the art of quiet feet, keeping to the shadows and intimidation tactics. She also slipped in a few lessons on Roman politics and government. As expected, the boy didn't overly enjoy the strict limitations of rules and regulations of the Old Way but he understood them enough so that Lupa didn't think he would get skewered alive once marching across the lines of Camp.

What Perseus Jackson enjoyed most of all was the sparring and combat lessons that Lupa slowly but surely introduced to him. The She-Wolf had started him off simple at first, making him run miles and strengthen his many under-developed and lean muscles. She even caved and let the boy try his hand at swimming upstream in a nearby river. It was to no one's surprise when he later revealed that the sea creatures within the waters had struck-up many conversations with the boy and he discovered one of his latent abilities from his godly parent—breathing underwater.

From his running and training on simple strength and endurance, Lupa later had him tumbling around in the mud with the other younger wolves to gain more confidence in following his instincts when relying on his own body and hands within combat. Slowly, but surely, he moved up in the hierarchy system and was going against many of Lupa's betas with nothing but his wits and personal strength. As he moved forward there, Lupa privately instructed him to spend more time at the river banks and maintain control over the rushing currents. It took him two weeks before he managed to steady the stream to nothing but a trickle, another three days before he was able to wield the water to follow his control.

Despite only broaching on the edge of seven, Lupa eventually conceded into letting him try his luck with a weapon in hand. It was only by Pluto's sudden arrival and check in that she even allowed it. As the god had all but dropped said weapon into the boy's hand, stating it a gift from his father that would always return to his hand if lost. The She-Wolf wouldn't have been able to pry the weapon out of the boy's hand even if she had tried. It was with distaste that she realized the blade to be celestial bronze but forced herself to stay quiet on the matter, even if the blade was idiotically Grecian in blade length and style. It was as if the god of riches was hoping the child would be found out by his youngest and most troublesome brother, Jupiter.

It was only herself she ever let the boy spar against when a weapon was in hand. Despite being given the sword, and having it customed to be balanced in his grip alone, Lupa made the boy practice many different forms of combat to cover his bases. From the use of knife throwing, dagger wielding and axes, to archery and spears. He managed decently at the former three, though failed horrifically at the later two. He was passable at best in all of them but swords, especially dual blades were where his mediocrity was hushed to a whisper and the boy became the shadow of a man. Lupa knew he would easily master the skill if given the proper twin blades, but it was as though his young body knew he was not ready for the power he could wield until he was older and more experienced in the art.

It was crawling up to two years when Lupa offered another change in schedule and with it another visit from the boy's self-proclaimed guardian god.

“Lord Pluto,” she greeted with her back turned away from the god, her mud flecked feet dangling in the shallow stream that flowed closest to the den. Oftentimes members of her pack and their offspring could be found sun-bathing in the warmer afternoons, though this particular one was absent of such guests. Almost as though they knew a visitor to be arriving once the sun rose past high noon in the sky.

“She-Wolf.” The god stated in reply, such insults had long since stopped ruffling her fur. It was only after the god asked the weighing question that plagued him that she bothered to glance his way at all. “How is he, the boy?”

“He is coming along well.” she said with begrudging admiration of the boy that had been dropped without a thought into her unqualified limbs. A sharp canine smile peaked at her lips. “A true predator in the making with that blasted blade of his in hand.”

The Roman god of riches flashed a tight lipped smirk at her words as he prodded for a more decisive answer to his gift for the boy nearly a year past. “A swordsman then?”

She nodded as she slowly rose from the stream bed and let her bare toes dry from the large stones that were burned blonde from sunlight. “Indeed, a duel blade shall be his mastered weapon in time. Though for his age I limit him to one weapon per spar.”

The god nodded, as if her admittance to his nephew’s young age and the restrictions placed upon him were not only reasonable but agreed upon. In the time of Romulus and Remus such cautions had not been welcomed no matter the age or silver their mind cleaved. It was always further, farther and faster by any means necessary despite young age or decrepit health. Harm was second nature to learning then, caution and time were two things she always battled with when being given cubs so young.

“And his other skills?”

This was the question she most dreaded in their quick check-in’s. There was never any remarkable progress. Rewriting one's very DNA into something entirely different was foolish at best and insane at worst. And Lupa was dabbling in both spectrums in her pursuit to do so with Perseus Jackson. His mind refused to be willed into something he was not, and his motions and his instincts were aggressively opposed to any techniques or strategies not within the Grecian bloodlines or incentives.

“The Greek is attached to him much like brambles in fur,” she stated after a moment's pause, biting deeply into her lower lip and making it a point to stare the god down for forcing her into such a foolish task. “Every time I think to have rid him of it at last, he goes tumbling into another bramble.”

The Roman god of riches frowned at her words, but did not push for better,nor order her to change it. The thing that was most confounding of all the immortals of Olympus was how most of them with golden ichor for blood were hard headed and stubborn to their own minds view, refusing to give an inch in turn of gaining a mile. Death, or Pluto in particular, had never been so, at least not outwardly. He understood and came to a conclusion that time would gain better results, while the others would continue to scream and argue for a change, for a miracle’s blessing.

“I see.”

“A few more years and he will be ready.” Lupa assured him, though her tone wavered slightly at her words. She knew that time was running out and much sooner than she would like, Perseus Jackson would be out in the world, becoming the hero most boys wish to become. He would be great, she knew this, instinctively. She glanced at the cove, where the younger pups splashed in the waterways, letting her gaze mellow as she spoke of a pondering that had been nipping at her paws the last few days. “I think a human litter mate ought to do him well. He is terribly lonely.”

Pluto said nothing for a moment, before begrudgingly replying, “Do you think that wise?”

“I don't have much choice,” the She-Wolf huffed, eyeing the god in her peripheral vision with a dagger-like stare. “The winds whisper of a child of Rome on their way to me. I cannot refuse a true child of Rome aid because of some ‘pet project.’”

The god of riches looked moments away from truly arguing with the lower goddess, his lips thin and his eyes like shards of obsidian. Though his displeasure at her words dissipated in seconds at the call of his nephew, running to him front he shores covered in a mix of mud and leaves along his bare toes.
“Lord Pluto!”

“Young Perseus.” Pluto greeted with a fond grin, nearing that of a smirk as the younger boy bounded up to him. “I was just speaking of you, look how you've grown.”

“Mhm!” Percy replied with a wide grin and bright eyes, before glancing to Lupa and giving her a quick but respectful nod of his head. The She-Wolf took his approach as her dismissal and bounded off to the river, leaving Percy to chat with his Godly Uncle.

Percy was nearly vibrating in his bare feet as he energetically explained just how much he had grown since the god had last seen him. “Lady Lupa says I'll grow tall and strong, with sharp teeth and a keen sense of smell!”

Despite himself, Pluto couldn't help but smile at the boy as he rushed to tell him about his time at the Wolf House and all he had learned in such a short while. He let the younger boy ramble on for nearly a minute, admitting his appeasement at his progress between a few phrases intermixed. It was nearing the end of the boy’s many stories that he finally spoke something, Pluto had nearly forgotten entirely about from his last visit.

“Thank you for the sword by the way!” Percy exclaimed. “It's the best ever, you should have seen my sparring on Tuesday, I almost won that time! And my tracking has gotten better, I can follow a lone rabbit for a whole mile now and find my way back home without any help.”

“That is wonderful to hear, nephew.”

If possible Percy only grinned brighter at the praise.

“So what are you doing here?” Percy asked, “Lady Lupa says the gods are busy—even you and that they only ever visit for a reason.”

Pluto can’t help but feel saddened at the boy's words, and how truthful they are. The gods are busy, though nothing, not even their daily duties, should keep them so ostracized from their children, they are after all the best gifts of them all. Yet, it seemed he was alone in such thoughts, as no other god had yet to ever show such disagreement to their eldest rules on fraternizing with humans and their offspring, no matter how tempting.

“Well, Lady Lupa is correct. We are busy,” Pluto replies after a moment, before saying in a whisper between the two of them, like a shared secret. “I might even say I'm the busiest of them all.”

“And you still come to see me,” Percy coyly stated.

Pluto couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy's words, before offering his own taunting reply. “Of course, I need to keep tabs on my troublesome nephew, don't I?”

Percy frowns, his lip outing just slightly and his brows furrowed in blatant disagreement. “I'm not that troublesome.”

Pluto is about to quip back his own defence on just how troublesome Percy truly was, something along the many school detentions in pre-k following his expulsion from three schools and then his few indiscretions within the She-Wolf’s pack, only to be cut short by the buzzing of his wrist watch. Death waits for no one, he knew it better than any as Lord of the Underworld. That isn’t to say he didn’t wish in that moment to make it wait just a tad longer, to allow him more time arguing with his nephew who he begrudgingly enjoyed the presence of.

“You have to go don't you?” Percy said with a fading smile and look of grief falling across his features. Perhaps Lupa hadn't been wrong in remarking him to be terribly lonely at the Wolf House. Admittedly, he hoped for Perseus to not interact with any other heroes until he was ready for Camp, yet it seemed the Fates wouldn't be able to grant his one wish. Though perhaps this would be for the better too. Pluto could only pray that it was.

“I'm afraid so,” Pluto replied, clicking the display toa close before adding with a softened smile, in the hopes of cheering his nephew up, even just the smallest amount. “I'll be back in a few more months, though. Perhaps then you'll be ready.”

“Ready?” Percy asked, confusion maring his small features. “Ready for what?”

Pluto just gave him a coy grin before turning back towards the shadows. “You'll see in time. Learn well nephew.”

Before Percy could parse a response, the god had already travelled away. Leaving nothing but the wind in his absence and the strange metallic scent of molten silver and pomegranates.

It was the week following Percy’s ninth birthday that he made his first friend. Lupa had introduced them at first, saying nothing more than the small girl's name and that she was like him and that she would be staying and learning with them. At first he didn't know what to think of her. She was younger than him, only by six months admittedly, and she didn’t like a lot of the things Percy liked doing with the other pups.

She didn’t like throwing mud or splashing in the river, she said the water wasn’t safe and thought he was lying when he said the fish talk to him. Not to mention she often spoke in a strange tongue, one that Pervy hadn't learned from the other wolves-- and it sounded a lot like handwriting, very fast and slurred together. It was pretty sounding, but confusing. One minute she would be rambling on about where her dad lived in Puerto Rico and the next she would be babbling in some new language and would get mad when he didn't understand her. Lupa told him often to be patient with her, that she was new and learning but Percy wasn’t the best at keeping his temper, especially with her.

When she had stayed nearly a month at the Wolf House is when the tides finally turned. They had been wrestling earlier in the day with the other pups and both had just come back from washing up in the springs. She had been seated at the cave entrance, drying her long brown hair in the warm afternoon sun, when Percy walked up, still dripping water down the nape of his neck.

Percy watched, almost entranced as she weaved her hair into a strange rope from the crown of her head to the base. It was pretty, and made it a lot easier to look at her face. It was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair tied away from her face and he couldn't help but notice that they looked slightly similar. Though she was much tanner than him, though he assumed that her having lived in the southern hemisphere helped, they had the same chin. He also couldn't help but find her eyes, a strange mix of dark brown and an almost violet shade entrancing, just as strange and peculiar as his own shimmering blue-green. His mom Sally had always said that eyes were like jewels, each one a touch different than someone else's.

Before he could think anything of it, Percy had asked the girl, Reyna, as Lupa had introduced her a few moons ago, if she could do the same to his hair.

She had smiled then and agreed, but only if he would help her find some nice wild flowers to decorate hers with later. With bargain struck, they snuck out during dinner to do just that, the both of them hand in hand looking for the prettiest wildflowers to weave into their matching braids. It hadn't mattered that they had made a competition out of it, on who could find the biggest or the brightest of blooms, or that in the end they had both been lectured heavily on sneaking away from Lupa. The bond had been made, through the weaving of hair and flower collecting. They bonded like siblings then.

Though they still fought many, many times over mundane and not-so simple things, even though they bickered and spat and shoved one another into mud puddles and played tricks behind each other's backs. They were close, best friends and pack in a way that even Lupa couldn't quite understand.

Percy was the first to congratulate Reyna on her improvement in tracking, and Reyna was the first to celebrate his improvement in Latin. They fed from one another, helping and strengthening each other. Lupa watched as they grew in those few months and became each other's greatest support and greatest competition. It was always a race on who could do it better, could achieve her good graces the most easily. They were always wanting to win but never did they want the other to lose. To them both they were striving for one common goal which was for both of them to succeed to their best abilities.

Though their successes in training wasn't the only skill at which they bonded through, nor was their need to win or their weekly ritual of flower gathering and hair weaving. When the two finally came to the conclusion that they were one another’s best friends, they were an unstoppable force. A hurricane in two small bodies that wreaked havoc across the Wolf House. Constantly, they snuck around and create harmless jokes on one another. Many of the pup mothers began to dub them as trouble one and trouble two whenever they appeared with near matching mischievous grins.

Most were harmless, the cave field with cups of water, a pulley system above the entrance that would drop jelly contents onto the person or animal who walked through the entrance. Some were less so, like the pathways covered in a thin sheen of ice to make all those who step across it go flying down the trail at breakneck speed to the bottom.

Lupa had lost her temper, far more than she would like to admit over their tomfoolery, yet each time she turned away she couldn't help but smile at how joyful they both had become in the short months they had been together. She wondered if it was perhaps fate that they wandered across each other's paths. She wondered more than she cared to admit if perhaps they were what the poets claimed when speaking of soulmates. Two halves to a whole, one heart beating between them. Though they were just children, too young to know much about love or its other natures, she wondered if Aphrodite had a happy ending for them in life.

Love had always been tragic for heroes, especially those under her teachings, and yet seeing the two children grow from pups to the cusps of their destiny’s she prayed for their happiness. For their ending to be less tragic than those that came before them.whether that be in love or in friendship, she hoped and prayed it persevered, as there was nothing as beautiful in watching them both laugh and play with one another.

The snap of metal on metal was like thunder in the otherwise quiet meadow, the grass trampled and beaten down into nothing more than soft clay from continuous movement. Gold on bronze, the two demigods weaved around one another, one step forward, one step back, a parry, a crash, a slick slide of one blade down another. Though they were only children, far too young in many mortal parents' eyes to hold something so sharp and dangerous one another of their slowly starting to callused hands, they moved like well oiled machinery. They knew the ins-and-outs of each defence, the perfect switch from offence to defense, learning growing is how they fought one another. It was a sight to behold, though no audience was around. No one of course, except the ever-seeing Wolf Mother of their pack. She laid in the warming sun across an elevated rock on the outskirts. Picking and pulling apart each move, anticipating who could gain the upper hand next and just how the other would weave out of the traps that lead to victory.

It was one particular blow, a little rougher than they had been previously, that had the dark haired girl whipping her hair over her shoulder and whining out an irritated when of the boy's name, who had to duck quickly to avoid her returning jab.

“Percy…”

The boy only rolled his eyes, as he parried blow for blow that she sent him in a small spite of anger at his previously well placed hit of his own. He knew his strength gave him the upper hand but with Reyna he always did his best to not pull back but use his other alternatives to pull a win. Cleverness, tricks and the likes. Lupa had told him that not everyone he met would be as easily to fight with brute strength.

“Reyna…” he mocked back, only to get a blade slicing the air inches from his throat. It was with instinct and practice alone that had him hooking his blade with her and knocking it away. The movement jarred the girl's wrist that she held it with and had her hissing at the sting of the wretched turn of her joint.

She huffed out loudly, “Not fair.”

Though her obvious exhaustion with the match did nothing to slow her down, even as a few wisps of dark hair fell into her eyes as she did, wet from exertion,. Percy laughed a this, as she did the same to him, though her blade was much to heavy to pull it off as gracefully and instead left them back to snapping blades back and forth once, twice and three times before moving their feet to try and find a new opening in the others defence.

“Life isn't fair.”

“Oh, you're on.” She grumbled as she pressed his defences even harder, making openings where she could be blocked each step of the way. Left, right, up, down, diagonally. Percy was losing ground wheels he gained, forced on the defensive position as she took the offensive inside. Percy couldn't help but grin at their competitiveness, her need to pull-through and win, and yet he knew she wouldn't. Not with what he knew of their blades, not with his last trick up his sleeve. He knew he’d catch a quip of comments from signing it, saying it was a trick, a default win he always sued.

Then again, he never did like making himself fix what wasn't broken in the first place, that was simply counterproductive.

Metal on metal, a loud scrape, a few managed half-spanish curses and Percy and gained the upper hand once more, taking back the ground he lost, taking an overhead whack towards her that left their blades vibrating from the force like a crash of thunder rolling over the valley. Reyna had always hated him for that move, finding it so stupidly masculine that she worked day in and out to try and find a way to stop it before it could even begin. As it was, she was still working on proper technique to this day. She grunted her annoyance, as he moved like water through stream, quick and swift on shifted as he moved chaotically from side to side to avoid her blows, one purposely avoiding connecting her blade with his own. Lupa had hated when he did this, calling his swordsmanship unorthodox, and far too grecian when he was roman. He should be holding a line and team fighter, not a rogue one off hero that pulls off stunts left and right hats should by any means get him skewered like a kebab in a real fight. Percy had yet to find a flaw in his technique however, as no one god or demigod he had managed to train with seems able to parry back his blows when he did as much.

Finally having enough, his sweat bleeding into his eyes from his brow, and his hairline wet with precipitation, he took his last stance, just as Reyna managed to get the tip of her blade to his throat, leaving his hands out to the side and his blade held in the air.

Between pants of breath and a laser focused eye contact, Reyna asked lowly, “Do you yield?”

Before he could stop a grin from making way to his lips, Percy coyly replied,”I don't know,”

He spoke in leisure with this one brow raise and his lips smirking in taunt, as he whipped his blade to the right, twisted it so the flat part caught to her handle and made it clatter to the ground. Before Reyna could so much as blink he had her at sword point, her own weapon useless and sent flying three feet away from her. “Do you yield?”

Knowing the mock-battle over, and with no way out of her trying position. Reyna sneered though not in anger and huffed out a dejected and annoyed comment. “You're such a cheater.”

James dropped his weapon and used his free hand to move his tousled and sweat slicked ink coloured hair from his eyes. Pointlessly na mostly in jest he asked loudly to both Reyna and their shared mentor watching with an amused glimmer in her eyes. “How is that cheating? Lupa told her that wasn’t cheating.”

The she-wolf or Lupa as she was more lovingly known as, rolled her eyes at the two squabbling children in her care and replied to neither of them as she offered her own comments. “You two will turn me gray with all your whining.”

Reyan goes to refute,, getting as far as opening her mouth in disagreement, before Lupa side-stepped her entirely and stated with playful eyes to Percy. “And Reyna that wasn't cheating, simply underhanded.”

As expected Percy quickly called out a half-hurt, “Hey!”

Though the boy was never given anything further besides an immature tongue sent pointedly in his direction by Reyna. She knew Lupa would agree with her in a heartbeat, hence why he didn't even bother to try and hide the childish gesture for her eyes. No matter how much it annoyed the she-wolf-- the bickering the playing and fooling around, she never did comment as such to Reyna as in her eyes the girl was allowed to be immature as much and as often as she wanted, especially since how little child-like moments she had in her life previously. Percy on the other hand, well the she-wolf simply enjoyed riling him up alongside her honorary daughter as it always led to an over dramatic reaction and show for them both to take amusement in watching.

“Reyna,” Lupa suddenly spoke, halting both demigods as they stripped themselves of their blades. Percy's magically shrunk down to a coin-like medallion that he stung around his neck, dangling from a golden chain. While Reyna’s shrunk to a silver bangle around her wrist. “I have received word from the nymphs.”

Percy felt his breath hit at the She-Wolf's words,and his heart plummet when she finally finished her brisk instructions. “You will begin your packing on the morrow and at dawn the following day you will set out for Camp Jupiter.”

Before she could think better of it, Reyna asked, her voice coming out far softer than Percy had heard since she first arrived at the wolf house. “Already?”

“I believe you to be ready.” Lupa supplied with a faint grin.

Percy couldn't help the wallowing of despair in his gut, rotting what little of his triumph in his spar with his friend. He knew he should be happy for her, overjoyed even. This is after all what they had been training for-- to become strong enough to make their journey to the Roman Camp, to be accepted in the legion and become true roman heroes and soldiers to be recognized in their parents followings. And yet.. He couldn't help but feel an un-explainable sadness and anger at Lupa. He had been training longer, working harder and still he was left to stay at the house and do nothing. He had levelled out in all that he could learn there was not much else he could improve upon.

Sensing his mood, Reyna spoke again. This time speaking directly to Lupa for him, saying what he never would, voicing what he would never admit to feeling. That was something they had learned quickly with one another as well, the changes in feelings, knowing one another better than even themselves. They were a team both outside and on the battlefield; they were more than siblings in arms in some ways and less in others. Percy would trust her white everything and she him, and most he would never even have to voice for her to understand, to know-- what was spiralling like whirlpools on repeat in his mind.

She often called in his mind-storms, his thought-made hurricanes. Always spiralling with feelings and never ceasing, never relenting until finally he exploded,and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He would be calm as the seas before the breaking point, before something, little, insignificant to what was happening within him would set him off. The winds would pick up, the trees would bend and the water would come crashing in all at once in one fiery wave.

“What about Percy?” She asked, her violet-brown iris fluttering to him three times before asking her question with a sense of finality. “--will he be coming to Camp too?”

Her question had Lupa tensing in seconds, her shoulder becoming stiff and her ears flicking into alertness. Percy knew in seconds that whatever she had to say wouldn't be pleasant for either one of them, that this would be the end of their training. That they would, as inevitably knowing it before, parting ways and possibly never meeting on the travelling crossroads between. They had differing destinies, differing stops along their strings of fates to be met.

“The fates have other wishes for your friend.” Lupa slowly replied, her eyes flickering to them both,a s she tilted her head down slightly at her following words. “I think it best if you say your goodbyes by noon tomorrow.”

Now it was Percy's time to ask the questions, to inquire deeper into the She-wolf’s cryptic sayings. “The fates?”

Lupa, pursed her lips for a moment before letting her eyes lazily settle on his, a sheer contrast in color as brown met blue-green, both heavy with weight behind them neither recognized to be carrying at the time. “Your Patron believes you are ready.”

“Patron?” Reyna asks, and Percy can't help but feel his body stiffen like marble at the She-Wolf's nod. He didn't know what to think, much-less say at her words. His patron had plans for him, as were expected, though he seemed too young for missions, for quests for favours done in his name. He was fidgeting in anxiety with the chain looped around his neck. He did not possibly know what to think or anticipate in knowing that not only was he to be losing a friend soon in departure for Camp, but that he would be out in the real world working in the name of a god. All of his accompaniments front his point on would be in his name and his name only. He would never be just Percy Jackson anymore, the pup of Lupa’s, the best friend of Reyna. He would be the extension of Pluto. The puppet to carry out his master's wishes.

It was equally daunting as it was humbling in knowing that he was deed good enough, strong enough to be acknowledged as such. Perhaps he should have slowed his progress in the hopes of staying in safety longer, before being dropped into the soon-to-pits of hell to follow the Lord of the Underworld's suggestion.

“I will take my leave.” Lupa said in her own dismissal, snapping Percy from his daze and back into the present. His tongue was laden with questions and inquiries about what he was to do now, what he was to say. And yet he asked, as he always did and likely always will. He needed to know more, to understand what it was he would be facing and yet before he could even finish his phrase he was benign silenced.

“But Lupa--”

“It is not up to me Perseus,” The she-wolf snapped suddenly, silencing any hopes of continuing from the stresses of his mind as she stared downwards. They weren't instructions but orders now, no longer was there any jesting and joking to be found. “I want you packed by mid morning, and then you will say your goodbyes to the pack and your friend before returning to your set path. Is that understood?”

Percy bowed his head. “Yes, Lady Lupa.”

Though he didn't meet the minor gods eyes, he knew she approved of his words, of remembering his place and where he stood in it all. She had ironed him like a linen shirt on knowing his palace, understanding the hierarchy he was to be modelled into. He wasn't to become arrogant like Hercules, prideful like Theseus, hopelessly naive like Icarus or Daedalus that nothing bad would befall him in the consequences thereafter. He needed to know his limits, to understand his restraints. He needed control and balance and a center to always return to, without he would be as uncontrollable as an undertow at sea.

Unfortunately for both of them, he had never been great at following the rules.

“Both of you be sure to wash up before returning to the caves.” Lupa said in parting, her back turned to the max she made her way up the winding path to where the others self and stayed during the daylight hours. “You both reek of sweat and dirt.”

Neither demigod rushed to follow her as they went to wander their ways to the streams. Both of their heads weighed with deep thought and crumbling despair at what was to come. It seems uncommonly cruel of the Fates to bring them together, to only later rip them apart. Percy wanted to hate them for it, yet he glanced at the dark haired girl as she waded towards the stream with unsteady feet and he couldn't. He could never regret meeting his best friend, nor could he fault the Fates for placing them in each other's path. There were greater plans at work and surely their threads would cross again.

At least that is what told himself as he wiped away the dirt and sweat in the trickling stream by her side.