Chapter Text
Day 1: Echoes of Betrayal
The sun beat down on Ogygia, a cruel mockery of the turmoil churning within Percy. Percy's eyelids fluttered open, squinting against the sun that blazed like a phoenix reborn on the crest of the Aegean. His body groaned, a symphony of aches and creaks reminding him of the battle that had nearly shattered him. Gaia's defeat still echoed in his bones, a tremor he couldn't quite silence.
Months, or has it been days? Time flowed like quicksand in this place, each grain marking another day etched with his body struggling to heal after the war, for even with his powers in healing, his heart still aching for Annabeth, a love lost yet ever-present. He still struggled to remember what happened after her death. It turned into a blur, and then all of a sudden, he was fighting Gaia in the sky, with him commanding the storms.
"To storm or fire, the world must fall ,"
The battlefield roared with the sounds of war—the clash of swords, the roars of monsters, and the desperate cries of demigods. Percy fought with fierce determination, his eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of danger. Beside him, Annabeth moved with calculated grace, their every move synchronised through years of battles and shared experiences.
Then, in an instant, the world shattered.
A flash of movement caught Percy's attention, and his heart seized as he saw a demigod lunging towards him with a poisoned blade. Before he could react, Annabeth intercepted the strike meant for him. The blade sank into her side, and time seemed to freeze.
"Annabeth!" Percy's scream tore through the chaos, a desperate plea that echoed across the battlefield. His eyes widened in horror as he witnessed his wise girl, the girl he loved so much that he jumped into Tartarus, taking a blow intended for him.
The world around him blurred as Percy rushed to her side, the battle fading into the background. Annabeth grimaced against the pain, her strength waning with each passing moment. Percy's hands trembled as he tried to staunch the bleeding, his mind racing with fear and disbelief.
"I've got you," Percy whispered, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. "Stay with me, Annabeth. Please. I will try to pull that poison out from you"
Annabeth managed a weak smile, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You can't Percy, its already seeped into me, the instant I saw it, I knew it was from Tartarus, its why I took that hit, Seaweed brain. Life must go on, Percy. Promise me, promise me that you'll find love again after you defeat Gaia."
Her strength wavered, and she leaned into his touch. The venom worked quickly, its poison spreading through her veins. The battle continued around them, the cries of war mixing with Percy's desperate pleas. And with a shaky breath, she leaned up to kiss his forehead, like she used to do when he was lying in her lap, and before she could, she took her last breath.
As the reality of the situation sank in, Percy's heart shattered. He held Annabeth close, his anguish pouring out in a guttural scream that echoed through the battlefield. It was a primal cry, a mix of pain, sorrow, and love that felt too profound to endure. And something snapped—an odd cracking sound like glass cracking inside his gut. Percy looked to the skies and screamed; the monsters surrounding him turned to dust in a flash.
The air hung heavy with the stench of blood and sulphur, a grim testament to the fierce battle that had just transpired. In the centre of the carnage stood Percy Jackson, his eyes blazing a poisonous murky sea green light and his sword, Anaklusmos, dripping with the blood and dust of his enemies. His face was contorted in a mask of rage, and his lips curled back in a snarl that revealed teeth bared like a wild beast.
The demigods who had fought alongside him watched in stunned silence as their once-fearless leader transformed into a berserker, his wrath unleashed upon all who stood in his path or whatever was left after the initial hurricane and tsunami went through. Their eyes widened in fear as they saw the carnage he wrought, his sword slicing through the air, leaving a trail of fallen enemies in its wake.
The monsters, too, recoiled in terror, their eyes wide with horror as they felt the power of Percy's wrath coursing through the storm with the occasional hurricanes. They had never seen such raw, untamed power before from a mere Demigod, and it sent a shiver of dread down their spines. Some turned to dust before they even realized what was happening, such was the horror that the destroyer had unleashed upon them.
Even the giants, those towering behemoths of myth and legend, trembled at the sight of Percy's fury. Their flesh rippled and writhed as their ichor, the lifeblood of their kind, fought against his wrath, trying to resist its influence. Even if they cannot be killed without a god and a demigod working together, they could always be made to feel pain, pain that they made his Wise-girl feel. Ripping out ichor might make them change their ways.
Percy was nigh-unstoppable, a whirlwind of destruction tearing through the ranks of his enemies. His sword danced through the air, a blur of gold and steel, carving a bloody path through the battlefield. He was the one who defeated the god of war at a mere age of twelve, with little to no training, the Bane of Monsters for every monster that came across, he alone walked away.
A destroyer , the greatest and most powerful demigod to ever walk the world, and in that moment, he was unleashed. And it was a terrifying sight for allies and enemies alike.
He found Calypso in the garden, her hands sculpting a vibrant bougainvillaea, her back a wall against the storm of emotions he carried. This time, there was no flicker of hope in her eyes, only a glint of tempered steel.
Calypso's beauty was both ethereal and earthy, as it is fitting for a deity. Her almond eyes, the colour of molten gold, held the wisdom of oceans and the secrets of stars. Her skin, kissed by the sun, shimmered with a pearlescent sheen, like pearls woven into the fabric of her gown. It flowed around her like the sea, the hem alive with whispering waves.
It was her hair, though, that took his breath away. It wasn't the golden sunshine he usually finds himself drawn to; no, this was a different kind of light altogether.
The color of spun caramel cascaded down her shoulders, catching the sun like molten fire. There were whispers of cinnamon and honey in its depths, and he found himself staring, a thought blossoming in his mind that felt almost sacrilegious.
But her beauty was more than just appearances. It was in the way she moved, with the grace of a swallow gliding on an updraft, and in the way her eyes flickered with the power of nature itself. A whisper of wind, a sudden shift in the light, a tremor of the earth under her bare feet—Calypso was one with the island, its magic flowing through her like a current.
"Calypso," he managed, the word caught in his throat like a bitter pill.
She turned, her gaze a glacial pool, reflecting the shattered memories they shared. "Perseus Jackson," she acknowledged, her voice devoid of warmth. "So, you grace us with your presence once more. What fleeting whim brings you back to Ogygia?"
He flinched. He wanted to reach out and bridge the chasm of their pain, but the familiar knot of guilt tightened in his chest. "I know I hurt you," he began, forcing the words through the lump in his throat. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but..."
A harsh scoff cut him off. "But you were wrong, as usual. Left me alone with this paradise as my purgatory." Her voice dipped, a tremor betraying the facade of her anger. "Or has it been months? Days? Time stretches and folds here, doesn't it, Perseus?"
He flinched at the barb, the truth a jagged thorn in his conscience. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Time is different here. Faster, slower, I don't even know anymore."
A sardonic smile played on Calypso's lips. "Centuries can feel like weeks in this enchanting prison," she said, her fingers twisting the vine into a knot. "And weeks... can stretch into a lifetime of longing."
Percy's heart ached at the unspoken accusation. The weight of his guilt, raw and heavy, crushed him. Yet a flicker of defiance lit within him. Forgiveness wasn't something he could demand; it was a gift she alone could choose to bestow.
"Calypso," he breathed, his voice resolute. "I don't ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it, not when I didn't confirm that you were released by the Olympians. But I won't give up on my promise, not as long as you remain trapped here. There has to be another way, a way out of this curse."
Calypso studied him, searching for the truth in his eyes. A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of years.
"And why," she finally asked, her voice low and dangerous, "should I let you stay? Why should I trust you not to abandon me again?"
He met her gaze, his own unwavering. "Because I owe you," he said, his voice firm. "I owe you a chance to break free, even if it means sacrificing myself. I owe you the opportunity to rewrite your story, just as I'm trying to rewrite mine, for I always thought they would be there with me till the end."
A flicker of something—curiosity or perhaps a sliver of hope—lit in Calypso's eyes. But then, the walls came back up, her features hardening.
"Fine, Percy Jackson," she conceded, her voice laced with ice. "Stay. But know this: Your path to redemption won't be paved with empty promises. Earn my trust and your freedom, one act of penance at a time. Show me you're truly different, not just another visitor with fleeting promises."
And so, under the watchful gaze of the sun and the echoing whispers of the waves, Percy's new journey began. Not on a quest this time, but on a mission of redemption, proving his worth not with words but with actions. A chance to prove that he is more than his powers. Time might be warped, but their story was just beginning—a tale of atonement, self-discovery, and the precarious dance between love and resentment in the shadow of a broken oath.
Fluff for the Fluff throne:
Percy: "Calypso, behold my masterpiece! A sand sculpture of a sea serpent, majestic and fearsome."
Calypso, looking at the sand sculpture. "Percy, that looks more like a sand puddle with a bunch of sticks sticking out."
Percy: defensive "No way, it's a fearsome sea serpent, ready to conquer the beach. I even gave her seaweed hair for that authentic touch."
Calypso: "Seaweed hair? Percy, she's adorable. Let's call her Moo, the Cuddly Sea Serpent."
Percy, pouting: "Cuddly? She's supposed to be fearsome!"
Calypso, laughs: "Well, she's the fiercest sand puddle I've ever seen."