The Rise and Fall

by thisisnotthenerd

Summary:

there is no triumphant return of the gods, no chariots from the sky
the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god
if no god comes to call, what is left except to make one?

A variation on the tale of Perse Athenide, or Perse and Athenide.

Notes:

• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by Anonymous (Log in to access.)
• Inspired by Of The Fountain by Chaotic_Dumbass_Rogue
• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by Cynder2013 (Log in to access.)

A little different from my usual fare, but I stumbled on the Athenide AU offhand and it took me on an absolute bender.

Chapter 1: Apotheosis

Summary:

An end, and a beginning.

Persephone Pallas Jackson wakes up on the first of August with drool on her cheek, her girlfriend sprawled over her, and the distinct feeling of a cut thread of fate.

 

The latter sensation takes some time to recall, since the last time was at a fruit stand. No need for old knitters this time—Percy’s got the feeling all on her own.

 

She wakes Annabeth with a kiss on her forehead. Annabeth snaps to attention before relaxing, giving Percy a gentle squeeze before starting to extricate herself.

 

They have too much to do today to just spend time alone together.

 

 

 

The Seven crowd into their mess hall, ignoring the projected images of impending war on the walls. Leo’s nervous chatter fills the silence, running through his plans for siege weaponry and letting his table run navigation.

 

The plan takes hold as they lay anchor in the Aegean, cloaking the ship in Mist. Leo will stay aboard, providing cover fire and drawing aerial assault. Jason, Hazel, and Frank can deal with a fall, so they will launch afterwards.

 

Piper, Annabeth, and Percy will sneak into the giants’ war camp and initiate the assault. If all goes to plan, keeping the boys in the air will prevent the completion of Gaea’s rise.

 

They have to hope that Reyna, Nico, and Coach Hedge have made it with the statue. That Nike, captured and rambling in the bottom of their ship, will find her wits and grant them victory.

 

That the gods will know they are needed and come to aid in the final fight against Gaea’s children.

 

Percy whispers, “As long as we’re together,” to Annabeth as they armor up, making their way to the gangplank to delve into ancient land.

 

 

 

The sense of impending doom never really fades as Percy, Annabeth and Piper trawl through the tunnels beneath Athens. Piper’s voice, singing the gemini into complacency, rings through with barely an echo, the magic of charmspeak convincing them to hide their approach.

 

It crawls up Percy’s spine with a shiver, a sense of wrongness that grows with each step. Even Annabeth’s hand held in hers is small comfort. She keeps her gaze forward, not acknowledging the grey-eyed gaze that tracks her movement.

 

To call it fear would be a disservice to all that it is. It is the anticipation, the building of potential before conflux. The waiting is almost painful, the fear no less. Yet an eerie calm has settled, not that of woven magic, but of certainty.

 

Percy kisses Annabeth deeply, embracing over the remains of her father’s gift to Athens. She speaks of a rivalry settled, of the thing that set them apart and yet brought them together. Piper’s eyes lock on them, a love proven true through trial after trial. It tickles at her mind that this may be the last embrace they share.

 

They make for the surface, stealthy in their approach, three girls hiding amongst the ruins as Gigantes discuss plans for war. It is a desperate gamble, a hope that they can avert the bloodshed that herald’s Gaea’s return.

 

The battle kicks off with a cry, torn from Annabeth’s throat as Periboia lifts her into the air, arms trapped at her side.

 

Percy loses herself in the haze, calling the waters and shaking the earth, Anaklusmos slashing through giants with alacrity.

 

(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)

 

The Argo II fires down from the sky just as the giants corner the trio upon the stones of the Acropolis. Annabeth bleeds upon ancient stones and calls to the boys to not make contact with the Earth as they fight.

 

(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)

 

Jason calls lightning as he soars on the wind, the skies darkening with each violent strike. Frank, fluid of form, sends arrows in between blows as an eagle, a lion, a dragon. Leo fires rounds of flaming ballistae, making cover that the giants cannot ignore. Hazel darts through on Arion, the Mist swirling in her wake. Piper cuts through the confusion, leading the giants in a trail directly to her and Annabeth’s blades. Percy summons a hurricane, wind and water in concert as she tears across the battlefield, aiding each of her friends in kind.

 

(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)

 

The tides turn with the storm, the heroes beating the Giants back to the stones of their new birthplace. What seemed an endless horde becomes reforming piles of earth that sweep towards the false throne set atop the Acropolis. 

 

Jason, Hazel, and Frank corral the wayward giants before the Parthenon for Leo to fire down at them from above, as Annabeth and Piper dart between, striking at weak points and clearing the field. Percy holds the furious storm, every ounce of power going towards dispersing the giants and disrupting their connection with the earth.

 

Her friends fight their way through the whirlwind as giants are hurled from the top of the hill, seeking Percy in the hopes of a final stand. She cannot hold the storm forever. There is only enough time to get to a high point and hope they can maintain the advantage.

 

(there is no triumphant return of the gods, no chariots from the sky)

 

(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)

 

(if no god comes to call, what is left except to make one?)

 

Annabeth is the only one to make it in time, to call to the others to avert their eyes, to reach out and touch Percy as her blood runs gold. 

 

(as long as we’re together)

 

A flash rings out over the battlefield, vaporizing the giants where they stand and leaving the Seven to be coated in golden dust.

 

(be careful what you wish for)

 

When the dust settles, Annabeth lies collapsed on the ground, eyes empty. Blood stains her hands, falling from the shoulder once scarred by a poisoned blade.

 

And Percy is gone.

Chapter 2: Mortality I

Summary:

Let us, for a moment, explore the first few reasons why Persephone Jackson achieved divinity.

The question of Percy’s mortality did not begin in Tartarus, nor with her blessing from Styx.

 

It begins on a summer evening in Montauk, when Sally Jackson is approached by a couple, beautiful by means imperceptible to human eyes. A man, carrying a trident that he cannot convince her was a surfboard, and a woman, who dances like the crashing waves.

 

She takes them back to a little beachside cabin and has the time of her life.

 

This is not to say they did not take precautions, with the hanging sword of prophecy looming.

 

It is simply that some things are inevitable, and Persephone Jackson is one of them.

 

---

 

Percy appears in a cradle made of coral in the bathtub of that very same cabin, in August of the following year, accompanied by a man who looks at Sally with the deeply haunted gaze of a man that knows his parents’ proclivities.

 

He gives Sally a letter written in two differing hands, and brushes his hand over the forehead of the sleeping babe, a wistfulness limning his eyes.

 

Sally scoops her daughter out of the cradle as she opens sea-green eyes, the very image of her father and mother beneath the waves.

 

She names her Persephone, for a girl turned queen, who was taken from her mother by death and yet came home.

 

And she names her Pallas, for the woman, for the warrior, for wisdom, for the waves from whence she came.

 

---

 

Percy grows up with a stepfather that she despises, a penchant for getting kicked out of schools, and a coral necklace that she never takes off, upon pain of her mother’s fury. Which says a lot, knowing her mother’s infinite tolerance.

 

She grows up on the beaches of Montauk, where the waves lap playfully at her every summer, where the smell of the sea is in the air and dances on her skin, where she can play in the water to her heart’s content.

 

She grows up in the city, where life moves fast and danger shares the same corners as opportunity, where the people stretch ever further in pursuit of greatness, where she learns to protect herself and her people.

 

On her 6th grade field trip, she finds herself pit against an Erinys, who looks at her with boundless rage as she is slashed through. She tells herself that it happened, even as Chiron and Grover lie to her face.

 

She watches three old ladies sit by the side of the road and cut a single strand of blue yarn, but does not see the skein of green threaded with gold that lies in their laps.

 

When she limps across the border into Camp Half-Blood, there is a part of her that rejoices amidst the grief of the loss of her mother.

 

Who would not, at the prospect of coming home?

 

---

 

When she wakes up, there is a girl.

 

She asks, “What will happen at the summer solstice?”

 

Percy doesn’t know the answer, and so nods off.

 

She is there again as Grover, Chiron, and Mr. D introduce Percy to the world of myth, to the knowledge that breaks her protective shroud of ignorance.

 

She is the one who takes Percy on her first tour of Camp, who witnesses her anger in the bathrooms. She is the one to bring Percy to the Hermes cabin, where all are welcome under xenia, where Percy meets Luke for the first time. She is the one to teach Percy Hellenike and give word to the stories that define their world.

 

She is the one to place Percy by the creek for Capture the Flag, to watch her step into her element. She is the one to note the wave that traces the edges of the trident marking Percy as the daughter of Poseidon.

 

Annabeth Chase is the third of Percy’s trio, making their way west to seek the stolen bolt.

Percy faces Medusa among a statue garden, checking reflections and swinging with a leap of faith. She still sends the head to Olympus.

 

She strikes the waters of the Mississippi with every ounce of faith she can muster, and finds herself restored by the murky waters.

 

She meets a Nereid in queenly attire, whose presence reminds her of her mother. The Lady of the Seas bids her to come to Santa Monica, and not to trust the gifts.

 

The next time they meet, Percy is given three pearls, and a promise of her father’s pride.

 

When all is said and done, she spends the summer in bliss, strong friendships forged, her mother freed from the shackles of her marriage. 

 

It ends in the inevitable, because a single trick, a simple duel against a god does not a betrayal make.

 

No, it comes from the boy who guided her first days at camp, who spoke of the difficulties of demigod life, who stole the bolt that threatened war. Who poisoned with word and deed, leaving Percy with a pit scorpion in the woods.

 

She comes home to her mother despite the danger, knowing a year spent in the world, living her life, is worth a lifetime of training at camp.

 

---

 

The following year, she takes to the Sea of Monsters in search of Grover. Visions of a giant chasing him into a bridal shop plague her dreams as she returns to camp to find it in chaos.

 

Thalia’s pine is poisoned. Chiron is gone. Annabeth hates Tyson for being a Cyclops. Tantalus taunts her with every word from his mouth, driving the camp apart.

 

She sneaks out with Annabeth and Tyson to find Grover and seek out the Fleece.

 

She looks upon her sisters Scylla and Charybdis as Clarisse's ship careens between the two and shields her friends as best she can.

 

Circe styles her and Annabeth into Classical Greek beauties, words dripping with promises of power. They flee the island on a stolen pirate ship, preserved by Moly vitamins and sheer luck.

 

She cradles Annabeth at the bottom of the sea, warding away the gossipy creatures with a glare. Some things are not meant to be shared.

 

She faces her brother Polyphemus as her friends rush for the Golden Fleece, hoping she can hold the line with Tyson by her side.

 

She duels Luke upon the deck of the Princess Andromeda , taunting him to reveal his treachery and restore Chiron as the trainer of heroes.

 

When all is said and done, she ends the summer uncertain, as Thalia wakes and the King of the Gods once more has a champion to guide toward the Prophecy.

 

---

 

In the winter, Percy watches Annabeth fall, grappling a manticore, as her heart goes with it. She is numb, as Thalia argues with Zoe, as Bianca joins the Hunt, as Artemis offers the pledge to her, as Nico asks a thousand and one questions, as they fly through the skies with Thalia’s shaky hands on Apollo’s chariot, as they strike the lake that has brought her so much solace in the past.

 

When the Oracle emerges to meet Zoe in the woods, Percy offers herself to the quest and does not take no for an answer.

 

The endless chase from undead soldiers is less of a weight than the dreams of Annabeth, bearing the sky, only offered respite when Artemis herself takes it.

 

She cannot stop Bianca from picking up the Hades figurine. All she can do is drag her away and hope that Talos cannot leave the junkyard.

 

They make it out.

 

Grover catches the scent of the Wild as they run for their lives, not the Erymanthian Boar, but something beyond. He disappears in the sands behind them, released from the quest at Zoe’s prompting.

 

When Bessie comes to call, she sends him to Olympus with the sacrifice of her Nemean Lion pelt and a prayer to her father.

 

In the way that all battles take eternity from seconds, the battle atop Mt. Tamalpais concludes with Percy rolling out from under the sky, Luke falling with the deadly force of Thalia’s strike, Annabeth being released from her chains, and Zoe succumbing to her wounds, Artemis and Bianca at her side.

 

A new constellation decorates the cosmos.

 

When all is said and done, Artemis has a new Hunter in Thalia. Percy avoids death by council, dances with Annabeth, speaks to many gods, and has to tell Nico his sister is gone with the Hunters.

 

It is not so bad as it could be, for Bianca is alive, safeguarded from death. Yet she has left him alone, with no one to look to beyond Percy, and Percy goes home when break ends. She has left to where he cannot reach, for the Hunters rarely interact with Camp, let alone boys.

 

He stays in the Poseidon Cabin until Percy leaves in January. Only then does he make his way, searching for answers as only he can.

 

---

 

Percy’s high school orientation ends in blood and fire as she runs with Rachel. She flees from the scene, making a quiet promise to explain later.

 

At camp, all is not well. Grover has been tried in absentia. Nico is gone and cannot be found. Clarisse has returned from her quest with an ailing Chris Rodriguez. Grover has been missing since the winter. Annabeth has found traces of a blessing she hopes to use to strengthen the wards, but cannot find the source. A new sword instructor, Quintus, has come to camp with a hellhound and a mysterious backstory no one seems willing to look into.

 

Percy and Annabeth fall into the Labyrinth during the War Games. For the minute it takes to find the delta, an hour has passed above, and a true vulnerability of Camp Half-Blood is set before them.

Annabeth returns from the attic pale, but assures her resolve. She takes only Percy into the Labyrinth despite Chiron’s many warnings.

 

Before she can choose a door, the Queen of the Heavens makes her presence known. She is gracious, motherly, and generous in her gifts.

 

Of course, she only seeks perfection. She speaks of Hephaestus with disdain, Hades with no less. Annabeth rejects her patronage as they flee back into the endless maze.

 

They find Tyson in Alcatraz, trying to convince Briares to escape his binds. He cowers in the face of Kampe, Tyson diving into the sea as they make for the maze.

 

They chase a mechanical spider past a sphinx, into a ranch where Nico di Angelo is bound and gagged, prepared for delivery to Kronos, a ghost whispering in his ear. Percy cleanses the stables with shells in the soil, anger in her gut, and blood in her mouth. She fires an arrow through Geryon’s three hearts with divine blessing before cutting her friends free.

 

They follow the spider to Hephaestus and make their way to Mt. St. Helens. The scythe is there, with telkhines speaking of their duties as crafters.

 

Annabeth kisses Percy, a kiss for luck, for love, for leaving nothing behind.

 

The volcano erupts with her.

The less said of Ogygia the better. Percy crashes her funeral with the knowledge of traversing the Labyrinth and questions lingering in her mind.

 

They find Rachel in the streets of Manhattan and follow her into the maze once more.

 

Percy faces Ethan and chooses to spare him, so that not all demigods might die in Antaeus’ arena. She kills her brother and ponders her father’s tendency to birth monsters.

 

Daedalus is a coward. He offers no aid as empousai and ghosts flood his workshop. Nico declares himself the king of ghosts and banishes Minos. They launch forth from his workshop on wax wings, Annabeth wiping tears from her eyes.

 

They find Grover seated at the side of the lost god Pan, sustaining singularly on his faith for the last six months. He blesses Grover, the searcher who at last found the Wild, and disperses.

 

On the way out, Percy witnesses Ethan’s oath. She witnesses Kronos’ rise. She witnesses a moment of shock caused by a blue hairbrush. She witnesses Nico summoning the Underworld to his aid, and knows the Titan Army has found another pawn to try and steal.

Camp Half-Blood makes ready for war.

 

Tyson brings Briares to bear as Kampe emerges, poison dripping from her blades. Percy fights, a whirling dervish in a hurricane, as the hordes cut her friends down. Annabeth fights at her side, commanding the campers to pull back from overextension and pushing the monsters back toward Zeus’ Fist.

 

Grover calls forth Panic.

 

Daedalus makes a final stand, gifts left in his wake.

 

When all is said and done, the dead must be honored, the war has begun, and Percy chooses a prophecy that she still does not know in full. Her father visits on her birthday, to offer a fateful gift.

 

---

 

Thus the years pass, as Percy goes on quest after quest and only earns the right to remain alive. Some occur in moments, like the bronze dragon during Capture the Flag. Others take a day, like the retrieval of Ares’ chariot that Clarisse will never let her speak of. 

 

Others take yet more time, as when Percy and her cousins delved into the Underworld to retrieve Hades’ misbegotten sword. That particular quest ends with Percy awkwardly mediating between Bianca and Nico as they finally hash out their differences over her joining the Hunt. She looks at Thalia, quietly advocating for Bianca, and wonders about the spirit that she was looking for in Asphodel.

 

The summer before Percy turns sixteen involves a lot of potential lasts. The last moment with her mom. The last moment at Camp with full ranks. The last moment spent with a mortal friend, driving with Rachel after she gets her learner’s permit.

 

That particular moment is interrupted by a pegasus hoof going through the roof of Paul’s Prius, a surprise kiss, and every ounce of hope going towards the plan.

 

Percy sneaks through the ship as Beckendorf sets the charges. She faces Kronos, invulnerable and leisurely as he strides down the deck towards her. 

 

She dives off the deck when the trick is discovered, and cans of peaches roll across the deck to the sound of distant explosions.

 

Beckendorf does not, going down with the Princess Andromeda . 

 

Percy convalesces in her parents’ home, where the subjects look upon her as the newest princess beneath the waves. It would be easy just to stay here where her powers are strongest to fight alongside her godly family.

 

Let it not be said that Percy Jackson ever takes the easy choice. 

Even upon the auspice of war, as she dives beneath the waters of the Styx, does her death remain a certainty.

 

A specter of Annabeth pulls her from the water to the shores lined with regrets. Percy faces a horde of the dead and only wonders at the change when she kneels on Hades’ chest, snarling her displeasure.

 

She returns to the surface to command her small force of demigods, barely fifty strong. She barters a sand dollar between the rivers, a promise of purification and plenty. She collapses a bridge, fighting back foe after foe as the heroes hold the line.

 

It is mere days before she stands over Annabeth’s body, writhing with poison, and wards off the invading forces with a hurricane of her own making. 

 

She kneels before Annabeth, bringing her uninjured hand to meet the small of her back, a singular point of vulnerability that no one ought to have known.

 

She watches Rachel fall from the sky, only saved by Annabeth’s quick hands on the controls of the helicopter. She watches her parents, Sally and Paul, as they awaken to the chaos and fight for their lives, the jar of Hope appearing in their car after Prometheus’ offer.

 

She discovers Silena’s trick moments too late, as Clarisse runs to find the girl in stolen armor. A scythe charm hangs on her limp wrist, ruined eyes gazing empty at the sky.

 

She watches as Nico brings his father forth to protect Olympus, Demeter and Persephone at his side.

 

She takes Hope to the Hearth, where it might be kept for all those fighting.

 

She calls her father forth to face Typhon, knowing the seas will restore with time.

 

She faces Kronos in his last moments, holding him within the throne room. He strikes at Annabeth, and blue eyes lock on hers for mere moments.

 

The cursed blade finds purchase in Kronos’ side, the final blow dealt by Luke’s hand.

 

---

 

Percy stands at an impasse, offered immortality by the King of the Gods.

 

Eternity, power, a life without fear or uncertainty.

 

She looks at her friends, the gaps in the ranks. She looks at Annabeth.

 

She looks at Annabeth and remembers that for all the gods’ power, it is mortals that go forth and make change.

 

She demands recognition of all demigods of all the gods, a place for them at the camp she calls home. She calls for all demigods to be claimed and brought to camp by thirteen, that they might survive more easily with knowledge of the world. She calls for the minor gods to be pardoned for their role in the war, for if they had been acknowledged, this war might well not have happened. She calls for the gods to know their children, not as pawns in a game but as beings.

 

She promises to hold them to their oaths; that if they do not fear the punishment of Styx, they ought to fear the punishment of her Blessed instead.

 

Percy rejects immortality at this crossroads, content to live her life. She does not know the power her words hold as they spread through the ranks of demigods. She does not know the stories that will be told about this day, what the gods are reminded of as she binds them to her promise.

 

When all is said and done, Percy and Annabeth kiss at the bottom of the canoe lake, thrown in by their friends rejoicing.

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- This chapter essentially details the canon divergences of the first series. You will note some major changes, but the general flow is the same. I'm keeping the major changes a surprise in the tags.
- I'll leave it to you to guess at the exact arrangement that resulted in Percy's conception. Needless to say, it's not what you think. Not that either. Or that.

Chapter 3: Mortality II

Summary:

Many moments condense into Percy's final mortal year, not the least because of the gods' meddling.

Of course, it is all too easy for the gods to renege on their promises. For Hera to sweep Percy away, leaving nothing but a message for Annabeth to look for the boy with the missing shoe.

 

Annabeth does not find Percy, but instead Jason, Piper, and Leo, demigods with power trembling beneath their skin, years too old to be unclaimed.

 

She searches desperately for any sign as the new trio set off on their quest to rescue Hera. Nico, having lived with the Jacksons for the last few months, sets off to scour the country, searching for her.

 

When all is said and done, they return with the queen restored and the giants defeated, a quest to end the Earth Mother’s rise on the horizon.

 

(Percy lies sleeping beneath the Wolf House, hidden by Hera’s presence. If only they had known to look.)

 

Persephone awakens with Lupa, her only memory of a grey-eyed blonde named Annabeth.

 

After all, who could enforce an oath without the memory of it being made?

 

---

 

Persephone spends mere days with Lupa, the wolf goddess deeming her fit to fight for Rome in the same breath as she castigates Juno’s meddling.

 

She fights the gorgons again and again, an endless chase over miles.

 

The old crone by the side of the road offers a rigged choice, and something tells Persephone not to risk crossing her.

 

 

 

She makes her way through the traffic, the lady a dense cackling weight on her. 

 

She only has time to meet the eyes of the guards at the maintenance tunnel before the gorgons come swooping down. 

 

The girl follows her through the tunnel, guarding her flank as the boy shoots them. June laughs wildly and clings with a strength never belied by her frail form.

 

Persephone stops suddenly at the river, the waters inviting and yet ominous.

 

“You must cross,” says June into her ear. “To enter Rome, you must carry me across the Tiber and divest yourself of your Greek blessings. Only then shall you regain your memory.” There is nothing she wants to do less than cross this river, but the gorgons are approaching and she has to put June down to get her sword out.

 

Persephone crosses the river. With each step, there is a sense of herself washing away. She holds tight to the memory of Annabeth, not wanting the river to take it. When she makes it to the banks, she dumps June to the ground and turns to face the gorgons. The boy who was shooting arrows earlier has been caught by one, and the girl brandishes her longsword at the other.

 

Persephone draws two fists of water and crushes the gorgons into dust, dispersing it down the river in the hopes that they might reform slowly. The girl helps the boy out of the river. 

 

When Persephone turns, she sees a legion kneeling. As she looks to the spot that she dropped June, the old lady is no longer there. Instead, a goddess stands, wearing a goatskin cloak and armed with shield and spear.

 

“I, Juno Moneta, come warn you of a great evil that approaches these lands. This demigod has lain in slumber for many months, but comes to you now from Lupa’s tutelage to aid in averting the evil that arises. Hail Persephone Jackson, daughter of Neptune!”

 

The praetor, Reyna, asks for someone to sponsor Persephone. The archer, Frank offers himself, on the grounds that she saved his life. Laughter rings out as he is reminded of his status. In the end, it is the girl, Hazel, who stands for Persephone before the legion.

 

The augur, Octavian, takes her Pillow Pet and guts it with a blade of gold, asking the lady of loyalty, Nerio Fides, if Persephone is fit to serve Rome. He pales, looking at the bulging fluff, and welcomes her to the legion. The ambassador of Pluto, waiting outside the temple, refuses to look Persephone in the eyes.

 

Mars appears during the war games, after Frank, Hazel, and Persephone mount the fort walls and lead the Fifth Cohort to victory. She never kneels, looking him in the eye as he claims his son and sets forth a quest. There is a hint of something there, an amusement in his eyes, that she would blink and miss.

They set off in an insult of a boat, and Persephone promises herself that she will make the Romans respect the seas.

 

In Portland, she sets herself against Phineas, and bargains with the Earth Goddess Gaea to show her favor. The gorgon’s blood burns going down, but she can feel the burgeoning edges of her memory. That night she dreams of a cyclops coming to aid her. She sends him to find Aella, who knows the last of the Sibylline Books.

 

As she drowns in the earth, memories start slipping back, of Annabeth pulling her to the surface of the Styx. She grasps Frank’s bow and gets pulled back to air.

 

She tells Hazel and Frank to call her Percy.

 

 

 

Thanatos looks upon all of them with a strange gaze–Hazel, living again after her first death, Frank, burning himself away with each moment, and Percy, skirting death and yet something more.

 

She strikes Riptide into the glacier to take it down with her, the storm not enough to harry the undead legion. She knows the exact moment that Thanatos is freed, as the legionnaires dissolve in the water and she remains alone. She launches herself back up to the surface to meet Hazel and Frank as they return from defeating Alcyoneus.

 

The dive for the legion’s gold takes mere hours, and yet it is too long to bear. The memories rush into Percy’s mind as the wind rushes past, the chariot pulled by Arion making the journey back to New Rome in mere hours.

 

She calls lightning through the legion’s standard to clear the way before passing it off. 

 

Polybotes drips poison, wielding trident and net in a perversion of all that the sea stands for. She dodges his blows and leads him on a merry chase across the battlefield, until the moment that she takes Terminus from his pedestal and beats Polybotes across the face with it.

 

Camp Jupiter raises her on a shield, the very image of their patron goddess.

 

Juno comes to her in dreams, warning of dangers yet to come and promising that Percy is the glue binding the alliance of Greek and Roman demigods.

 

She still bears the purple cloak as a trireme comes down from the sky, white sails snapping in the wind.

 

---

 

The moment Percy sees Annabeth again is one she will never forget. She holds her in a kiss, much longer than the Romans would deem appropriate. Even being thrown to the ground is worth it to be in Annabeth’s embrace. 

 

The Argo II firing down on New Rome and breaking the tenuous is enough to put Percy in an awful mood. Getting caught in the stables with Annabeth doesn’t make it better.

 

The realization that Gaea can send eidolons to possess any of them is much worse.

 

She faces off against Jason in a cornfield, sword in hand, mind in the hands of a twisted soul. She very nearly ends his life before Blackjack strikes her forehead. Percy dreams of Nico, trapped in a bronze jar, with pomegranate seeds in his hands. Just over a week, and the boy she thinks of as a little brother will die.

 

Meeting Keto and Phorcys is an unpleasant reminder of the state of the seas after the fall of Kronos. She cannot regret her father’s aid in the fight against Typhon, but seeing creatures captured by deities seeking to do them harm, that she cannot condone.

 

She watches Octavian flail in the harbor as she kisses her girlfriend and holds him there until the Argo II has made its way to sea to find the fort. Annabeth negotiates with Reyna to buy them time to escape.

 

After the skolopendra attack, Percy cannot help the jealousy as Leo, Hazel, and Frank speak of a camp for marine heroes. She cannot help but feel that those undersea denizens resent her for the damage of the Titan War.

 

Knocking Hercules down as he chases Jason and Piper back gives Percy a rush of adrenaline unlike any other. It brings with it a lingering sense of familiarity that intensifies with Chrysaor’s boarding. The dreams of giants seeking sacrifices don’t help.

 

Annabeth takes her on a tour of Rome, a last respite before she steps into the darkness.

 

Hagno looks at Percy with a recognition that passes as soon as she starts speaking. When the springs run pure and Hagno is young again, there is an awe in her eyes that feels unearned.

 

The giants, Otis and Ephialtes, are a spectacle unto themselves. Percy fights her way through the arena alongside Jason, while Piper frees Nico from the jar. She tries not to recall the last time she fought in an arena, when her survival is once again dependent on the whim of a god choosing whether or not to intervene.

 

 

 

The Argo II blasts through a parking lot, Leo’s new firepower from the Archimedes Sphere coming to bear. They find Annabeth with a broken ankle, no blade, and the Athena Parthenos. 

 

Percy could swear she sees a sword that looks exactly like Riptide in the hands of the smaller figure in Athena’s hands.

 

Alas, she cannot relish in the sight of Annabeth for long, as the remaining threads of spider’s silk yank them both to the edge. She holds on with all her might as she yells to Nico, “Take them to the Doors! We’ll meet you on the other side!”

 

“Let me go,” Annabeth says, as Percy’s arm shakes and the rest of the Seven yell down to them.

 

“Never,” Percy says, firming her resolve. “I’m not letting you go. Never again.”

 

Annabeth whispers, “As long as we’re together,” as she meets Percy’s eyes.

 

Percy lets go of the ledge.

 

---

The fall is long.

 

She clings to Annabeth with every ounce of strength she has left and turns so that she will strike the ground first.

 

The dark is endless.

The fall ends not in earth, but in water. In whispers of every misery that has ever plagued Percy, every loss, every regret, every failure. Annabeth shakes her out of it enough for them to start to swim to shore.

 

The shore is coated in broken glass. The ground is flesh. The air is poison. The water here is misery, and if legend holds is the blood of a Primordial.

 

Welcome to Tartarus.

 

 

It takes a short time to realize that every monster either Percy or Annabeth has killed is here and gunning for vengeance. First, it’s the corpse of Arachne, long-gone from her self-made trap. Next, it’s Hyperion in a bubble of lava. Next, it’s empousai in covens, chasing them through the lowlands, before a broom sweeps through them with ease.

 

Bob. The Titan Iapetus. Who has been working as a janitor since Percy dipped him in the Lethe.

 

He takes them to a forgotten shrine of Hermes, where they eat of the sacrificed food and send a desperate message to Camp Half-Blood. 

 

They drink of the River Phlegethon and find themselves restored as everything burns away, like every monster down here does.

 

The worst part about the arai is not the pain. It is not the minor annoyances, or the blood trickling down Percy’s side.

 

It’s watching Annabeth, blind, bleeding, and cursed to be alone by the petty goddess of an island.

 

Percy slashes through the horde, knowing there will be no miraculous savior, no divine intervention. Only the endless curses, and the sinking feeling that they will hurt her far more than she can hurt them.

 

Percy awakens in a giant’s bed, healing from her wounds as Annabeth weaves a tale of the world above for Bob and Damasen.

 

She goes back to sleep, trusting Annabeth to guard her back.

 

They walk across the fleshy hills to find Misery, and Misery they do find.

 

Akhlys, pale and tortured, eternally weeping, taunts them with their miseries as they bargain for the Death Mist. It is no surprise when the poison she weeps starts to creep towards them, from the edge of the chaotic abyss.

 

Percy’s control cracks as she sees Annabeth flinching away from the caustic poison. Akhlys’ throat fills with tears, with blood, with every poison she expels. 

 

She hears a sound from her side: Annabeth, eyes wide with fear.

 

But not just fear. With the burgeoning realization that they could end Misery, right here and now.

 

That there is more than one way to pass as monstrous in Tartarus, and both of them have long since passed that point.

 

Annabeth nods.

 

Percy curls her hand into a fist, and ends Misery where she stands.

 

There is no reprieve, for the moment Akhlys falls, darkness rises from the abyss. Nyx, at once amused and furious at their audacity.

 

It is by the grace of Annabeth’s silver tongue that they flee through created darkness to the Mansion of Night. Somehow, she does not trip despite her still healing ankle.

 

At the threshold, the waters of the River Styx run, combining with the Acheron. Percy hefts Annabeth into her arms and leaps.

 

Droplets from the hateful river strike her legs as she leaps, and do not feel like anything. 

 

They stand before the armies of Tartarus, the endless fields of undying monsters awaiting entrance to the world above. The heart thrums in vicious color, the five rivers mingling in unending pain and suffering.

 

The sad part is that they make it most of the way. Shrouded by the dying curse of the Keres, Percy and Annabeth blend into crowds and sneak around the shambling hordes.

 

They are halted at the Doors, stymied by the Titans Koios, Krios, and Hyperion, and the presence of the button that must be held to keep the Doors through their journey.

 

Bob distracts the other cardinal Titans as they make for the chains. With his memory restored, Percy cannot hope for more than that.

 

It is too late.

 

Tartarus awakes.

 

Percy quakes before him, the embodiment of the hell they are about to escape.

 

The Maeonian Drakon charges through the field, Damasen atop its back, unchaining himself from destiny. Bob and Percy slash through the roving monsters, unleashed from temporary order as Tartarus himself manifests. Annabeth cuts through the chains, releasing the Doors of Death from the bind that kept all monsters from dying. 

 

The elevator doors open.

 

Tell the stars I say hello.

 

Percy and Annabeth dive through the Doors, holding them shut as the elevator rises through churning earth.

 

 

 

Nothing comes out of the Pit quite the same, save the monsters.

 

The question of what comes out is another quandary altogether.

 

Some beings change, others stay the same. Some that call the Pit home may only perish there, by their own hands or another’s.

 

There is no question that the Pit will have its price in flesh, paid in its depths or in tribute upon escape.

 

Leo throws a screwdriver at the elevator button to open the Doors moments before they disappear. Percy and Annabeth tumble out, exhausted from days in the depths of hell. The difference is undeniable.

 

After Clytius is defeated, the Seven reunite with Reyna on a hill in Epirus. This is the first chance any of them have to learn how they survived.

 

Both look gaunt, bloody, and exhausted. Annabeth has tear tracks carving through the grime on her face as she holds Percy. She speaks of a miracle shrine, of old enemies and new, of a Titan and Giant that accompanied them to the Doors.

 

Percy, huddled into her side, seems taut as a bowstring, waiting for a new threat. She does not relax for a single moment as they discuss the return of the Athena Parthenos and the path ahead to Athens.

 

Nico looks at her and recognizes the same glint in her eyes as when she first bathed in the Styx. As he prepares to leave with the statue, Reyna and Coach Hedge, he whispers to her, “I kept my promise.”

 

She ruffles his hair and tells him to stay alive as he steps foot onto the pedestal.

 

---

 

Time passes in a haze between Tartarus and Athens. Percy dreams of curses and cursed, rivers wailing and hateful, of those she left behind.

 

She dreams of Misery choking on her pain, and wishes that it means the end of misery for those she loves. That she has not brought the marks of death upon them.

 

In Ithaca, Annabeth treks to Odysseus’ home with Piper and Jason to infiltrate enemy ranks and find the source of disruption in their path. Jason nearly falls at the hands of treacherous ghosts, and Juno manifests with a warning: Victory runs rampant.

 

She looks at Annabeth with a sharp glare, and reminds her that Loyalty was the patron of Odysseus and Penelope, keeping their marriage intact through trials and tribulations.

 

In Olympia, Percy restrains the bloodlust as she fights the Nikai. She takes solace in the relief as Nike’s aura is suppressed with Leo’s net and she is captured aboard the Argo II.

 

In Sparta, Annabeth closes her eyes to the sight of the Pit once more and trusts that Piper will lead with her heart.

 

Percy meets her sister at sea, with Polybotes behind her. She fights him to a standstill, hoping that the poison will affect her as normal, hoping the saltwater will still heal her, hoping that Jason can convince her sister into intervening just this once.

 

---

 

These are the many moments within her metamorphosis.

 

In the moment of ascension, something asks her, 

 

Do you want to save your friends?

 

Of course.

 

Then succumb to the whims of fate and time, Perse.

 

Return to the source from which your godhood has always come.

 

The Blessed Fountain.

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- I'll leave it to you to decide what Octavian saw in the pillow fluff
- we're finally gearing up for the actual Athenide part of this AU

Chapter 4: Revelation / Riptides

Summary:

Poseidon has sired a daughter with warlike Athena!

A goddess, armed as her mother was, born from the fountain meant for Attica.

The first sign comes as the diphuḗs Cecrops declares Athena the winner of the contest for Attica. Poseidon fumes, his gift of purifying saltwater rejected for the fruits of a tree that are inedible without the brine. The fountain itself, ornate and beautiful, trembles as the water rises into the air.

 

The second sign comes as the newly named olive tree shakes, and a branch bearing the early fruits falls into the rising spring. Athena pays it little mind, attributing it to her uncle’s rage. She tells Cecrops the name of the city shall be Athens, where wisdom is honored above all else.

 

The third sign comes as the ground begins to shake, the mortals of Athens falling to their knees. At first, they look to the Earthshaker, still angered at his loss. He stands tall, bearing his trident, eyes wide at the sight of the fountain, tracking a surge in divine power.

 

Then the fountain subsides.

 

There’s a girl.

 

Nay, a goddess. Fully armored, brandishing a xiphos . She wears coral around her neck amidst beads, and the symbol of a trident on her forearm. Her raven hair in practical braids, uncovered yet bound so that no enemy might seek to grab at it. 

 

Percy looks at the crowd, on their knees before the fountain she has appeared from. There are no giants laying waste to ruin, but the city is new.

 

She looks behind her to see no temple, the Parthenon, the image of ancient perfection in Annabeth’s eyes, nonexistent.

 

She calls Annabeth’s name first, and the wind gusts around her, sending the leaves of the olive tree blowing around her.

 

Time freezes as she sees Annabeth, translucent and wavering, but bright-eyed as she has always been.

 

Annabeth puts a finger to her lips and says, “Don’t react, seaweed brain. They can’t see me.”

 

Percy nearly bites through her tongue in her haste to respond. 

 

“Well what am I supposed to do then? The Parthenon is gone, you’re a ghost, and I’m in a fountain that I’m pretty sure wasn’t here a minute ago. Where did our friends go?”

 

“They’re not here with us. The only reason I am here is because I caught you before you disappeared.”

 

“Disappeared? All I remember is something asking if I wanted to save everyone.”

 

“And it sent you here. Did it say anything else?”

 

“Something about fate and time and returning to the source.”

 

At that, Annabeth hums, looking down at the fountain and seeing the empty hillside that will become the Acropolis.

 

“I don’t think we’re in our time anymore, Percy. We’ll have to find a way of getting home. At least we’re together.”

 

Percy brightens, taking Annabeth’s hand in hers. 

 

She turns back to face the crowd, who stand in shock and awe at her appearance.

 

Her father stands there, a hundred feet tall, with a confusion and burgeoning anger in his eyes. 

 

“Patéras?” She calls out to him, minding Annabeth’s whispered warning over her shoulder to speak in Hellenike .

 

Poseidon looks upon his new daughter, for she is so clearly his, with dark hair and eyes like the sea, beauty in the ephemeral and yet so clearly violent, her power feeding into the storm he called to take the fountain away. 

 

She has the same coloring as her sisters, his daughters with Amphitrite, but her gaze reminds him deeply of Rhea.

 

He calls out to the newly named city, “Look upon the gift I would have given you and despair. A daughter of the sea would have blessed your shores, her bounty unmatched. She is no nymph, no fountain spirit, but a patron goddess.”

 

Percy tries to interject to tell him she is no goddess, but before her words can find purchase, he takes up the fountain in his hand. He passes his other hand over her, dousing her in saltwater to cleanse the blood and dust of battle. 

 

He gestures at the olive tree, still shaking from the tremors. “Instead you took the paltry fruits of the owl-eyed one and rejected our blessings. From now on this city, this Athens, shall hold no favor with the seas.”

 

She emerges, clad in silks of blue and green beneath her breastplate. Her skin glows with divine blessing, the sheen of it marking her a daughter of the waters.

 

Yet that is not all that radiates from her. The scent of olive oil and parchment permeates the air around her, wrapped around Percy like a cloak. The blessing shines with the mark of wisdom, grey eyes watching over the daughter of the seas.

 

(Annabeth stands, a specter at Percy’s back. She will not be taken away.

 

When an ascending deity has a mortal anchor, the anchor can be cut and left to sink among the hate of Styx.

 

Or, the anchor can be carried up to the surface, a reminder of the mortality from whence everything comes.)

 

Athena rises, halting him in his tracks.

 

“She is not solely a daughter of the sea. She bears the mark of wisdom, emerging armored as a warrior as I did from my father’s skull. I would have her known as Athenide, patron of Athens, born of the olive branch as it graced the waters, the lady of the sword. I know my daughter stands before me, born of thought and divine favor.”

 

Percy calls out to Athena, “My name is Percy. I am not your daughter, my lady.”

 

(she keeps Pallas to herself, Annabeth whispering in her ear that this is not the time to share that name)

 

Athena furrows her brow. “Then, Perse, why does my essence lay over you, an aegis laid by my own hand?”

 

“I am not your daughter, my lady, but your daughter accompanies me. If any deserve the name Athenide, it is she, who first armored me, who has guided my path with wisdom, who knows the possibility in this city.”

 

At this, Athena stares closely at Perse. The girl stands alone in her father’s hand, but whispers over her shoulder to nothing. When she narrows her vision to the aegis that glitters over Perse, she sees a flash of grey eyes, identical to her own.

 

(What are you doing , Percy? I’m not actually here!

 

Sorry, Wise Girl. But I’m not the daughter of Athena, you are.)

 

“So be it. I name your companion Athenide Polias, patron spirit of Athens, blessed daughter of Pallas Athena.”

 

Her blessing bestowed, the specter slowly takes form in the gods’ eyes. Grey-eyed, with flaxen hair, she stands with a blade of bone unsheathed, armored as a warrior in the same strange garb as Perse when she first arrived.

 

She looks up at Athena with a troubled gaze, shock mixed with triumph and an undercurrent of melancholy that Athena cannot parse. 

 

Perse stands with Athenide in the palm of Poseidon’s hand as the city whispers, wondering about this strange goddess who speaks in a tongue that only the gods address, a beauty that sparks desire with every gentle movement. The king himself shouts his intent to tie her to the city by marriage.

 

“This city still does not deserve my daughter, Athena. She will return beneath the waves with me, borne to her family in Atlantis.” 

 

“Then give my daughter to me, so that she may reap her birthright. I have no quarrel with your departure.”

 

“You’re not separating us,” Perse snarls up at both of them, Athenide kept behind her. “We go together or not at all.”

 

Athenide steps forward, prostrating herself before Poseidon.

 

“Great Lord of the Sea, I humbly ask for your mercy and favor. I pray for you to take me with you to the seas, that I might join Perse beneath the waves. I swear I shall do no harm to you or your subjects. Your daughter is my boon companion. I could not tolerate it if I were left bereft of her.”

 

Poseidon looks upon Athenide, swearing herself to Perse, a startling mirror to Athena of centuries long past. The same Athena who once knew the seas as home, and Pallas as her boon companion.

 

This girl, much as she shares Athena’s sharp eyes, was also born of the fountain.

 

To the city, he declares, “You seek to honor Athena and yet disrespect my daughter in the same breath. You shall find no mercy from me, no peaceful tides, no homeward winds. Build your temples all you like, for Perse Poseidonide and Athenide Polias now leave your shores.

 

Athena stands at the apex of her city as the Athenians disperse, having borne witness to both contest and emergence, and follows Poseidon with her gaze as he vanishes.

 

---

 

Poseidon makes for the sea with all due haste, but not before the sun casts eyes upon Perse and shares the news of a goddess born in Athens. An armored beauty of the seas, carrying the essence of Poseidon and Athena. The news rushes across the world, carried by winds, by wings, by word of mouth, twisting the story beyond compare.

 

Poseidon has sired a daughter with warlike Athena!

 

A goddess, armed as her mother was, born from the fountain meant for Attica.

 

She is beautiful and glorious in the daylight, but vengeful Poseidon has hidden her beneath the waves, keeping her from the attention of the world.

 

She is called Perse.

 

Nay, Athena named her Athenide and granted her spirit to the city.

 

Perse and Athenide becomes…

Perse Athenide

 

---

 

Poseidon appears in the throne room of Atlantis, where Amphitrite holds court in his absence.

 

She asks after the contest, expecting to hear of a simple test for patronage.

 

“I lost the contest,” he says, “to my brother’s wise daughter. But I have won something far better, my queen, my Amphitrite. I bring you a daughter, ascendant from my gift. She is Perse, born a goddess from the fountain.”

 

The court gasps as he places the fountain down in the middle of the room. Perse stands, sword in hand, stunned by the same reverence she recalls from modern times.

 

Poseidon continues, “She brings with her a boon companion who has sworn herself to the seas, to Perse. This companion brings with her the worship of Athens, as Athena granted it to her. She is Athenide, eternal companion to our daughter Perse.”

 

Amphitrite scrutinizes Perse as she takes her first step down from the fountain.

 

(What if the fountain is keeping you here? What if it means we can’t go back?

 

We have to hope that we can still go home. I will be with you no matter what.)

 

The sea herself looks upon the young goddess, resplendent in armor, in the blue silks of her father’s gift. 

 

The specter of aegis carrying the presence of Athena looks her in the eyes and steps away from Perse’s back, holding her hand as Amphitrite steps down from her throne. She approaches as Perse sheaths her sword, and leans forward to cup her cheek in hand.

 

“Mitéra,” Percy utters, reminded of her mother’s embrace. “I am Perse Pallas, come to you from the fountain my father created to channel your waters.”

 

Triton glances up, hearing the name of his daughter, and swims to meet his parents.

 

She is the very image of Pallas, a warrior of the seas.

 

Athenide acknowledges Triton with a nod and bow as if to confirm the truth of his realization.

 

“She is Pallas reborn, brought home now as my sister, a daughter of my father and mother. Hail, Perse Pallas !” Triton calls to the room, the herald of Atlantis in fine form.

 

He watches Athenide place a hand on Perse’s shoulder and a kiss on her cheek, a memory of Pallas and Athena surfacing suddenly.

 

Perhaps it is not one daughter brought back to him, but two.

 

Perse takes the first of her domains among her family, as she curls a current around Amphitrite’s embrace. She washes the tears from Triton’s face and wraps her Athenide in a riptide, pulling her in to meet her mother.

Perse Palirroias

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Surprise! It's actually Annabeth's turn to be Athenide.
- Clarification on her whole situation: Annabeth is essentially suspended in a demigod dream. Her body is back in modern times, but her consciousness is with Percy. Mortals cannot see her. The gods initially can't without significant effort. When Athena names her Athenide, she is granted enough power to manifest before the gods but not mortals. In any case, she is deeply tied to Perse. The consequences will come up later on.
- Palirroias (or Palirrias) refers to the riptides. Anaklusmos, much as I would like to use it, doesn't actually mean riptide. It's technically a variation on kataklusmos, which means flood or cataclysm, but with the prefix replaced with ana-.

Chapter 5: Loyalty

Summary:

This is where her legacy begins; in long forgotten histories, in promises made in moments, in an oath, once sworn, that could change the flow of time.

When Zeus Olympios hears the tale of the contest of Athens, his wrath rings through Olympus.

 

A daughter of Poseidon and Athena, conceived before hundreds of mortals. Yet no word comes to Olympus from either his brother or daughter.

 

No, this particular goddess finds her way to the skies through idle gossip!

 

Apollo apparently saw her first, and now weaves tales of a raven-haired beauty, cradled in her father’s hand. The winds speak of a fierce gaze, of a stalwart refusal to submit to the whims of the city she was born to. Some say she resembles Athena, others say she holds the beauty of the seas.

 

Most rumors tell of Poseidon crossing from Athens to the sea, a fountain opposite the trident in his hands, grinning like he had won the contest.

 

No one seems to want to tell the whole truth.

 

 

 

Athena comes at the summons of her king, sober and thoughtful.

 

Zeus thunders from his throne, “Word tells me you have broken your vows of maidenhood and sired a daughter. With Poseidon, no less, the very god you sought to compete with! I would have a reason, daughter, lest you invoke my anger further.”

 

“I have broken no vows, father. The goddess emerged from Poseidon’s fountain, armored and stained with battle, with a guardian of wisdom. I sought to name her before the city, to canonize her birthplace, and yet she refused me. She called the spirit forth, and told all who could hear that the specter was more worthy of being called Athenide. I relented, moved by her passion.”

 

“Then where is this Athenide? Why have you not brought her before us?

 

“She took the blessing, but would not separate from her companion. She petitioned Poseidon for mercy and favor, that she might follow beneath the waves. I know not why he granted it, when he has despised me for so long, but he absconded with both girl and spirit. Now Athens faces the wrath of the Earthshaker, and my daughter, born from thought, has been taken from me.”

 

Zeus grinds his teeth at the reminder. “What would you have me do, daughter? I cannot bring her forth from the seas. Nor can I revoke Poseidon’s claim, as he has likely already brought her to the court of Atlantis.”

 

“Invite her before Olympus,” says Athena quietly. “Have her present before the Council, where she may determine her domains, and I will bring her to stay upon Olympus.” Her voice is steel, yet her expression shows a fragility Zeus rarely sees.

 

“You of all people know Poseidon’s jealousy, Athena. He will rage at the thought of another of his daughters permanently taken to the surface.”

 

“Then half the year. All I wish is to know her, to give unto her the duties to Athens I have already bestowed.”

 

 

 

Thus it comes to be, that Poseidon must present his daughter to the Olympians upon the winter solstice.

 

Perse takes the news with chagrin, wishing to stay in Atlantis and keep searching for a way back. Athenide, despite her mother’s blessing, is intermittent, her spirit needing to gather strength before manifesting. This is the longest she has ever been suspended in dream, and time takes its toll.

 

A few days into their time in Atlantis, she discovers a way of easing her path; transformation and command. She takes the form of an albatross, the seabird, the long-lived, those that travel around the globe and yet stay true to their homes. The bird carries her on great wings, and looks upon the world with shining grey eyes.

 

After, Perse is rarely seen without Athenide perched upon her shoulder, chattering in a language no one save them understands. 

 

 

 

The months pass quickly in the inevitable march of time, and too soon, Perse must face the Olympian Council.

 

Amphitrite dresses her in a green woolen peplos and a golden sea silk himation, to wear with pride before her father’s family. She ties on a string of pearls beneath the necklace of coral and beads that Perse never removes. 

 

The journey from sea to land involves a procession of sea life, with dolphins, octopodes, seals, and fish following in their path. When they make it to land, horses await to carry them to the high peak.

 

The hair on the back of her neck rises with each step towards Olympus.

 

(this is the point of no return)

 

---

 

“Hail Perse Palirroias Poseidonide!” Poseidon proclaims, the very image of a protective father as he announces her to the Olympian Council. “Daughter of the seas and bearer of riptides, patron of sailors and sea-travelers, she who carries luck on her wings and warning on the winds.”

 

Perse stands tall, not with the regal bearing of a queen but the posture of a commander at arms, her sword at her side even as she stands unarmored in this moment. Her eyes are piercing, an insight beyond her years carving through each of them in but a moment. The albatross perches on her shoulder, eyes darting across the assembled gods and finding something wanting as she chatters in Perse’s ear.

 

The Kronides first reel at the very image of their mother, standing before Poseidon as she gazes up at Olympus. The only thought that shakes the reverie is the thought that Rhea never appeared so young.

 

The other Olympians are less surprised.

 

Aphrodite sees a classical beauty, in the aspect of war. Imagine what she could be! Imagine the wars that would start and end for her hand! She notes the marks of love upon her and wonders at them being placed by the Fates.

 

Artemis looks upon a maiden, so clearly loved, shrouded in the essence of another maiden, and knows that try as she might, this girl will never become a hunter of her own volition. She loves far too much to renounce it, even as she rejects the binds of sex and marriage.

 

Ares gazes upon a woman that resembles his daughters not in looks but in the spirit of war that has defined her life. She is as beautiful garbed in silk and wool as she is bathed in blood. He holds back a laugh at the defiance in her eyes, knowing she is one to put up a fight.

 

Hephaestus watches as she steps out from behind her father, passing over each of them in turn. Yet, there is a kindness to her, intrinsic to her make. 

 

Hermes looks past, to the girl with blonde hair, a shadow to the albatross, arms wrapped tight around Perse as though to drown her in aegis, to ensure that none can strike at her without retaliation.

 

Apollo sees her face, so different in the moonlight, no less radiant than his first glimpse of her. She holds a tension in her brow, but not fear. It is as if she has seen it all before, seen them all before.

 

Athena grips the sides of her throne as her uncle elides her claim. Athenide holds the form of an albatross on Perse’s shoulder, locking eyes long enough to know that she deliberately looks away. The goddess takes a slow breath, trusting in Zeus’ promised command.

 

“Perse Palirroias,” Zeus says, imperious. “Your birth has caused much upheaval over these past months.”

 

“I did not ask to be born,” Perse responds, impetuous in her manner. “But I am here nonetheless. I have come before the Olympian Council at your command, King of the Skies.”

 

“Then, if you are so gracious as to come to Olympus, you must partake of our great bounty. Many great gifts does Olympus hold, if those worthy are wise enough to take them.” Zeus looks down on her with a slight leer, gaze roving over her with an interest she took care to avoid in her past life.

 

She does not bow her head. Now, she may be garbed in silk and pearls, but one cannot forget the sword at her side, fingers drifting closer to the hilt with each passing moment.

 

“I have no need of great gifts, O King. I am blessed already by the sight of all my family.” She turns to address the room.

 

Hestia warms as she rejects Zeus’ gift, seeing Perse’s respect for home and hearth. She drifts in thought of tending the flames, knowing someday a young deity will take her place upon the council.

 

“Perse Palirroias, if it is family you seek, know that your closest family does not solely live beneath the waves,” Athena says, solemn. “I would claim you as my daughter before all of Olympus, just as I claimed Athenide. You would live in my temple, where wisdom is prided and warriors learn. All those of my worship would know your name.”

 

“Queen Amphitrite of the Sea is my mother, Lady Athena. I cannot simply cast her aside.”

 

“Regardless, it is right that you remain here among us. Perhaps you should wed my dear son Ares, and truly join the ranks of Olympus, not as Athena’s daughter,” Hera sneers, seizing her opportunity. She gestures to her son, who stares forth in a mix of shock, lust, and mild disgust.

 

“I cannot do so, Queen Hera.”

 

“Why not? My son would make a fine husband, and you a radiant bride.”

 

“I cannot marry someone who so clearly holds space in the heart of another. I myself am already sworn to my boon companion, Athenide.”

 

Hera glares. “An oath to a sworn sister is one thing; marriage is another. If my son does not meet your standard, many other gods stand to speak for your hand.

 

“Athenide is no mere sworn sister. She has walked my path with me from my first days within this world. You speak of marriage as if it holds more weight than every other oath–I can assure you it does not.

 

“I claim the domain of loyalty, that I might aid the lady Styx in the creation of oaths, that I might strengthen the bonds of my peoples and bless their service, that I might preserve them enough to return home. There is nothing you can offer me to supersede that.” The mention of the hateful river, whose power makes mortals of godly oathbreakers, echoes in the silent hall. Perse glows, Fate affirming her claim to Loyalty.

 

“My partner in marriage must be utterly loyal. They must not stray from any vows we make, nor disrespect our marital bed. I cannot expect this of my father, or any of you who stand before me. How can I marry knowing this?” Her hand finally meets the hilt of Riptide, unsheathing it and slicing the tip of her finger before spreading ichor along the flat of the blade.

 

“Know this: I swear myself to Athenide, spirit of wisdom. I ask for her companionship, her knowledge, her time manifest. Should a day come that I am eternally separated from her, those that break our bond will know no loyalty from then. This I swear upon the River Styx.” Perse shimmers with divine intent. All who see the bronze of her xiphos will feel the pain of their broken vows with each strike she makes.

 

Hera hears these words and knows the girl will be a danger. She swears herself to loyalty, yet refuses marriage, and takes no vows of maidenhood. She claims for herself everything Hera cannot expect of Zeus, or expect of any god in the world.

 

A warrior though she is, the gods do not take kindly to being rejected.

 

“Then on your head be it. Loyalty cannot be held solely by the seas, child. This I declare: Perse Palirroias shall henceforth travel between her father’s home beneath the waves and Athena’s temple, giving half the year to each and attending Olympus upon the solstices.” Zeus thunders, lightning flashing in a gathering storm.

 

This is where her legacy begins; in long forgotten histories, in promises made in moments, in an oath, once sworn, that will change both memory and time.

 

 

 

Perse Pistós

---

 

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- We didn't see all of the Olympians' reactions; not to worry, there will be plenty of that in coming chapters.
- While the oath was more impulsive, Percy has practiced the speaking patterns with Annabeth, in an effort to fit in and not be smited for disrespect before they figure out a way home.
- pistós simply means loyalty

Chapter 6: Knowledge / Guardian

Summary:

The collection of domains is a complicated feat.

Perse spends the first day of her time in Athena’s temple desperately missing Sally Jackson. 

 

When she stayed in Atlantis, her godly parents were there, guiding her through the first days. Poseidon and Amphitrite are far more involved, as they are free to be now. Years of occasional meetings seem foreign after only a few months spent in the seas.

 

Athena, while known for her measured judgement, is  clearly anticipating her visit with enthusiasm. The moment Perse steps foot into her temple on Olympus, Athena wraps a grey cloak over her shoulders, woven on her own loom. The threads tell the story of Perse’s fountain birth, and feature a shimmery Athenide behind her, anywhere shadow would fall.

 

When Athenide starts to manifest from the albatross in order to look at the craftsmanship, Perse nearly misses the quiet fondness on Athena’s face as she looks at her daughter. Her face snaps back to neutrality the moment Athenide looks back up.

 

Athena leads them through the temple to a set of rooms. Perse peeks her head in the door to see a spacious bedroom, with a fountain in the corner, and great windows overlooking the mountain.

 

“For you, Perse, I will bind the gods to honor your vow, and keep their hands where they ought to be. They shall be put to challenge against me and face my wrath should they violate the terms. With Nike at my side, they cannot hope to defeat me.”

 

“Why do all this?” Percy asks.

 

“Because I want you to feel welcome here,” Athena says, her tone as close to nervous as a god can ever achieve. “When you first emerged from the fountain I did not know what to think. You came forth, armored as I was. I thought it a sign, that I dreamt a goddess into being from pure thought. And yet, you are so clearly a daughter of the sea. There is nothing of you I can hold claim to, save Athenide.”

 

“To see Athenide manifest was a dream I did not ever think I was capable of. I eschewed motherhood. I never took my oaths in vain. Yet seeing my eyes in her face, a guardian of wisdom so deeply tied to you, I could not let it go. It is often lonely—” she pauses, “—it is lonely knowing my mother is gone and my father and siblings will only ever know me as a woman. Perhaps I sought to know some of that relationship, even from the other side.”

 

“Then why did you let Poseidon go freely to the seas?” Athenide says, fully present in her mother’s hallowed temple.

 

“I wanted to, Athenide, but you fell to your knees to ask for his favor. I could not intervene once his claim washed over you, only wait until I could lay it myself. It is of little solace to me that I know how he keeps his court, that you must have been beloved there.”

 

Athenide sits in a shocked silence at this version of her mother, vulnerable, a stark contrast to the maddened goddess who condemned her to follow the Mark.

 

“I thought you wanted to tie me to the city, as Athenide Polias,” Athenide says faintly.

 

“I knew not from whence you came. It was the only thing that could bind us in that moment. Now, there is time. It would be all I ask, to be my daughter, that our minds might meet, and I will know of the wisdom you have wrought.”

 

(It’s your choice, Wise Girl)

 

(stay or go, she must commit)

 

Annabeth Athenide takes Athena’s hand and says, “Yes.”

 

(Painful as it is to regain the favor her mother has not revoked yet, it is still the desire that has driven her since childhood. The acknowledgment that she, Annabeth Athenide is worthy of her mother’s focus is heady, surging past any rationality.)

 

“I name you Athenide Sofía, daughter of Pallas Athena, who gives freely of her wise counsel. She who will guide the building of Athens and know the glories of our city.”

 

Athenide stabilizes, still incorporeal but whole. No more present, but perhaps able to remain in this form within Athena’s temple. Perse smiles wide and hugs her from behind.

 

“I may not be your daughter by mind or by birth, but I don’t mind being a daughter-in-law,” Perse teases, draping the cloak over Athenide as she blushes.

 

(Perse will not unleash her rage on this Athena, who has not yet sent her daughter on the path of the lost Parthenos.

Yet there is something to the thought of cause and effect—will this Athena send the future Annabeth towards the Mark if she exists now?

Only time will bear it out.)

Athenide Sofía

 

---

 

The training camp is mostly an accident. For a given definition of mostly.

 

It starts with Perse’s temple on Seriphos, built after Poseidon announced her to his worshipers through dreams. It perches on the coast, a beacon to sailors returning home, a haven to the fishermen working by the shores. 

 

It is utterly different from the worship Perse receives in Athens; there, she is the loyal daughter, the maiden of the fountain where wishes are granted, where pledges and promises are made. Men yet vy for her hand, wishing to bind Loyalty to their home and hearth.

 

On the small islands, Perse is far more free. On Seriphos, she is the lady of riptides, whose temple rings with warning when the waves churn with anger. Her priestess hangs pennants in different colors to show her goddess’ mood.

 

The priestess herself is no stranger to the start of the training camp. 

 

Danaë washes up on the shore with her son clutched to her chest, buoyed by the rolling waves. She steps out of the box meant to be her coffin, bedraggled and unkempt but alive.

 

Flickering torchlight shines from the shrine that sits upon the beach. She stumbles her way to the steps, unsteady after days spent rocking amidst the swells.

 

Inside, a woman sits at the foot of the pedestal, weaving a net. At this hour, the temple should be nearly silent, but yet the woman weaves, bickering, seemingly, about the merits of various sailing knots. With a bird.

 

“My lady, I know not the patron of this temple, but I ask of you sanctuary. I am Danaë of Argos. I was thrown into the sea in a wooden box and floated here by the grace of the gods. I lay myself at your feet—my son and I can go no further,” Danaë gasps out, voice wracked with the salt of the sea and the hope that she has found safety.

 

“Peace, Danaë. If you are looking for the patron of this temple then you have found her.” The woman stands, the smile on her face identical to the statue that stands upon the pedestal with an arm outstretched, sword at her side.

 

“Perse Palirroias,” Danaë says faintly.

 

The bird flies to her shoulder without warning, looking down at the child, who grizzles quietly in her arms. She hears a series of chirps over her shoulder, directed at the lady of riptides.

 

(Danaë of Argos, Perse. The mother of Perseus)

 

(I got it, Wise Girl. Leave it to me.)

 

“Come sit by the hearth, Danaë. You have come a long way and survived much.” Perse guides Danaë to a seat before disappearing and reappearing in a flash with a plate of food. 

 

Danaë eats hungrily, her days trapped on the sea preceded by months alone in her tower, pausing only as her son is gently pulled from her arm by the goddess. She throws her hand out reflexively, but her son seems to calm, no longer silently miserable.

 

“Calm down, he is in safe hands. You must eat for him to eat, and he deserves a moment of calm as much as you do. You are safe here, Danaë.” Perse snaps her fingers, and Danaë is clean, clothed in warm wool after so long spent cold and damp.

 

“Your hospitality knows no bounds, my lady. Would that I could repay you for this,” she says, taking him back into her arms.

 

“I have no need for repayment—stay as long as you like. It gets lonely sometimes, being the only one here when I visit Seriphos.”

 

The bird chirps again, emphatic.

 

(You need a priestess here, Seaweed Brain!)

 

“Oh!” Perse says, startled. “Would you like to be my priestess here? I can ensure your protection, and your son would grow here in peace. Those who worship here mostly ask for calm seas and a bounty of fish, and they give respect where respect is due. I require nothing of you save your oath to be loyal.”

 

Danaë sits in shocked silence. “I would be honored, my lady.”

 

“Great!” Perse claps her hands and pulls Danaë to her feet, beginning a tour of the temple where she will spend the next years.

 

In that moment, Danaë chooses the name of her son.

 

Perseus Eurymedon.

 

He will be her far-ruling destroyer, named for the goddess who promises her safety.

 

Over the years, Perseus grows up running between the hut of Dictys, the fisherman who lives down the hill, and the temple. He learns his letters from Athenide when she manifests, and swordplay from Perse during her visits. 

 

Occasionally, she comes by with other children. When Perseus is around ten years old, she comes with a toddler slung on her hip. She swings the boy by his ankles, giggling all the while, tossing him into the air before she catches him and sets him down next to where Perseus sits on the steps of the temple.

 

“Here, hang out with your brother for a second. Perseus, this is Dionysus. Dionysus, Perseus. Don’t get into any trouble, alright? I have to threaten the king away from your mother again.” She marches back down the steps, Riptide flashing into her hand.

 

Danaë returns to the temple to find her son staring at a toddler with purple eyes. The toddler seems to win their contest, because Perseus blinks and curses with words he is not supposed to know yet. After that day, Perse takes the young Dionysus back to Nysa, though she visits with him every so often.

 

When Perseus rashly offers anything to King Polydectes and receives a demand of Medusa’s head, it is Perse he prays to first.

 

When he cuts Medusa’s head from her neck, it is her voice whispering of its usefulness.

 

When he races across the seas to rescue the forlorn maiden Andromeda, it is her that calms the waves before him so that Cetus may be cut down. 

 

When he turns Polydectes to stone, it is her blessing given twice-over for the protection of her priestess.

 

When his wedding is interrupted and turned to slaughter, it is her hand guiding his blade.

 

When he strikes Acrisius across the forehead with a quoit, it is her that muses on self-fulfilling prophecies.

 

So many such children pass through the walls of Perse’s temple, brought to her by mortals and gods alike, that she starts sending them to Chiron, on Mount Pelion. She leaves a benediction, that the heroes he trains shall remain safe within the borders of his home, so long as loyalty is upheld.

 

(Athenide finally knows the source of the blessing on the border of Camp Half-Blood—the blessing that began to fail as Luke betrayed camp and left Perse to die in the woods.)

 

The few mothers that accompany their children to her temples are kept safe within her chambers, women abandoned by the gods whose get they carried. Those left bereft by mortal men too find safety and comfort in the walls of her temples.

 

Hail, the lady of Sanctuary, who welcomes the poor, the weary, the abandoned. She who frees the enslaved upon the seas and brings them to her shores. She who guards her temples from the jealousy of men and gods alike.

 

 

Perse Kidemónas

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Athena does go around securing vows--the bird race still happens, it's just a little less relevant to this particular story.
- Annabeth can now stably manifest after being named a deity by Athena. What that means for her living body? You’ll have to wait to find out.
- Yes, Perse has recreated beach warning flags.
- Apparently Dionysus and Perseus aren’t just brothers via Zeus, but distant cousins by Libya & Poseidon, according to Argive genealogy. (Please correct me if I’m wrong on this)
- Sofía means knowledge, Kidemónas means guardian.

Chapter 7: Mariners / Youth / War

Summary:

It is the Navigator that is called to battle at the head of a thousand ships, shaping the waves and winds for those in her favor.

To sailors, Perse is the Navigator. The beloved youngest daughter of the seas, who dances amid the currents and twists the winds to follow in her wake, who sets her blessing among those longing for home.

 

Those sailors with the luck to know her blessing mark their maps with the symbol of an albatross and carve their figureheads with the laughing face of Perse. The legends tell that Poseidon will not strike down a ship that honors him and bears the face of his daughter.

 

Even those who do not find her blessing find refuge in her net after they have fallen, as she carries them past the river Styx. Perse knows the Underworld well, spending time with her cousin Persephone as she ferries souls from the sea. They muse over punishments for those of evil temperament and share stories of protective mothers, of Demeter, of Amphitrite, of Athena.

 

The wily Odysseus and courageous Diomedes pray for the Navigator’s blessing as they mark their ships with her face; these statues stand unique among the thousand Achaean ships for bearing her blade. For showing Loyalty who walks with Wisdom and Victory.

 

Of course, this story did not begin with them.

 

 

Perse Thalassaporós

 

---

 

It begins with an attempt to wrest power from Zeus, the adulterous king falling prey to the whims of power. 

 

He is freed from the golden net by the Nereid Thetis, and binds her in marriage to his son, a pale reward before his fury.

 

He strings divinity from Apollon and Poseidon, makes mortals of immortal make and bids them serve King Laomedon of Troy, Apollon as a shepherd and Poseidon a bricklayer, that they might suffer the indignities of service and learn to obey.

 

He hangs Hera by her hair over the abyss of Chaos and leaves her there to scream in agony, anvils chained to her ankles.

 

He cannot punish Athena, born of his brow, the wisest of his children, for the fear that she shall set his throne to topple in vengeance.

 

Instead, he takes her claimed daughter.

 

It is the right of the King to test the Loyalty of his people, to take her beneath his watch, so soon after a betrayal.

 

And if he sways Loyalty to stay by his side after the terms of the punishment have ended? That is for him to ponder, and the punished gods to dread.

 

 

 

Perse is snatched from the waves as soon as she breaks the surface, clutched in the talons of a great eagle, Athenide following in her wake.

 

She spends the first day raging, calling a great storm to strike that Zeus might know her wrath, the daughter of the Stormbringer. She spends the second day plotting in near silence, the only sound in her chambers being the rustling of her net, the daughter (-in-law) of the Wise Weaver.

 

The third day, she adorns herself in green and gold, bedecked in all the pearls caught in her net in the moment of her abduction.

 

Perse stands before the throne of the Sky-King in her softest aspect, every ounce of beauty she can muster thrust to the surface, where Zeus may look upon her and be distracted from her intent.

 

“Great King, I come before you today, to ask of you the gift I left unfulfilled when I first came before you.”

 

“And what do you ask of me, dear Perse?” Zeus ogles her, eyes piercing through her silks, tracing over the body underneath.

 

(He does not look her in the eyes. She is Rhea reborn to the sea and not the skies—every moment with her makes him feel young as the day he first spirited himself to Othrys, and yet old as time.)

 

“I have served faithfully between the seas and the skies, the mortal realms and the Underworld. I have never sought to betray your rule.”

 

(This is a lie, but Zeus has banished Truth to mortality. It is not her fault he cannot ask Apollo’s divining eyes.)

 

“I merely ask to continue my duties; to aid my mother Amphitrite in my father’s absence, to bless the sailors that long for home, to grant the wishes and bind the oaths of the Athenians who swear by my name, to care for the children that learn and grow in my temples, those born to gods and destined for greatness.”

 

(Perse and Athenide have spent hours practicing this, combining their domains and perfecting the words that will grant them freedom.)

 

“How do you know of this supposed greatness, Perse Pistós?” Zeus asks, his attention finally caught.

 

“I can see it in their eyes, hear it in their names. Their stories come to me in dreams—these I ease the burden of from those young enough to be tortured by it. I have in my care now three children of yours, begat by Leda of Sparta: Castor, Pollux, and Eleni. I wish for them and their playmates that haunt my halls to grow in peace, to know the strength that lies in Loyalty, that they might be skilled and strong enough to find glory and bring honor to your name.”

 

(She truly wishes for them to not see hardship in their childhood, wanting some protection for these demigods in the way she was never given it.)

 

Zeus leans back into his throne, intrigued by her sudden passion and seeming desire to protect mortal heroes. “I shall grant your request upon one condition.”

 

“I would hear it, Great King.”

 

“Do you swear upon the river you champion that you shall not attempt to overthrow me or otherwise end my rule while you walk outside of Olympus?”

 

“This I swear.”

 

“Then you may walk the earth in the pursuit of duty, Perse.”

 

She rushes from the hall before he can remember that he did not bind her back to Olympus, too distracted by pretty garb and flattering words.

 

Thus, Perse spends her time running her camp and attending her worshipers, between the seas, skies, and Underworld, across her patron city and every small temple scattered across the many islands of the Aegean.

 

Every time she feels Zeus looking in on her, she ensures a child sits upon her hip, the image of motherly virtue. He cannot possibly take her back to Olympus, not when she is the image of a mother doting on her children.

 

(As he had always wanted from Rhea, yet rarely got for the sake of his protection. Her face, so startlingly similar, is a boon and a wound upon the hearts of all the Elder Kronides, when Rhea is so rarely seen in this age.)

 

Often, it is fair-headed Eleni who cuddles up to her breast, drinking in her presence.

 

Fair Eleni, whom she rescued from the grasp of Theseus in Hades’ home, as Pirithous choked on serpents for attempting to steal away Persephone. Fair Eleni, for whom she cast both men from Athens and struck Theseus’ name from her father’s favor, before sending Dionysus to Naxos for the girl abandoned there by her faithless brother.

 

Fair Eleni, whose brow she kisses before sending her off to wrestle with her brothers, the Dioscuri.

 

It is in this time that she becomes known as a protector of children, a mother to the bereft, guardian of demigods.

 

Dionysus, newly married to Ariadne and newly risen to the Olympian Council, comes to pay his respects to the woman that raised him. He finds Perse on Mt. Pelion, sitting by the hearth with Hestia, a newborn with golden hair at her breast.

 

He falls to his knees before her, begging for a chance at vengeance against whoever sought to violate her vows. “Perse, mother of demigods, give me only the word and I will strike them with madness. I will prove them unworthy of your presence.”

 

(Neither Perse nor Athenide will ever get over seeing Dionysus like this; young, in his prime, a stark contrast from the jaded camp director they have known since childhood.)

 

“Peace, Dio. Apollo knows that this child yet lives.”

 

“Apollo? I thought he was sworn never to pursue you. I hear about the bird race even when he is not present on Olympus.”

 

“He didn’t. This is Asklepios, the son of Coronis. She laid with a lover after Apollo was banished to mortality, thinking him unable to retaliate. Artemis struck her down with an arrow, not knowing of the child.”

 

“That still does not explain why Apollo’s child suckles from your teat.”

 

“I am coming to it. While Coronis lay dying, I knew the babe still lived. He is destined to be a healer even greater than his father, one that will uplift humanity. I carved him from her after she bled out from the arrow, and bade him grow in my own womb.”

 

“And how have I not heard of this? I know the year has passed, but Zeus bound you to Olympus when not attending your duties. Poseidon may have been toiling away in Troy, but your mothers must have seen you quickening, in the temple or the seas,” Dionysus says, baffled.

 

“It is truly surprising how much clever draping can hide. I spent as much time between my duties, and bound my breasts and belly beneath wool and heavy silk until the year had nearly passed, and when my belly swelled beyond what I could hide, I dived beneath the waves. I told Amphitrite of my pregnancy, and then we went to Delos for Artemis to aid me, as she knew of Coronis and would gladly attend the birth of her brother’s child. Since Apollo was mortal then and Artemis is sworn to her vows of maidenhood, Athena defended me to Zeus, as it was supposedly to share in our duties to the young.”

 

“Still, I cannot imagine it was easy carrying a child of the Sun. You could have simply left him for Apollo to deal with.”

 

“Believe me, it was not. But the twins are friends to me, and protectors of youth. They know my role in protecting godlings. I know in my heart that childbirth is not always wanted, and begrudge none who do not seek it, but I knew I had to protect him. How can you say I should have left him to Apollo when you yourself were sewn into Zeus’ thigh?” She hefts Asklepios up for Dionysus to see him, all golden hair and blue-gray eyes, bronzed skin like Perse herself.

 

“Anyway, when it came time to birth him, the little one–,” she tickles Asklepios’ cheek, “–turned breech, and Artemis could not make him turn back. Athenide whispered in her ear to guide his way out, and Artemis cut him from me as I cut him from Coronis. I came here to heal, and Aunt Hestia joined me as she left her seat.”

 

(Perse does not tell him of the fading memories of her mother and every story she has been told of being cut from her father's belly, nor does she admit the love that rose in her upon seeing the child’s face, so like one born purely of her and Athenide.

 

Athenide, who hid the aura of the sun with her own, disguising it even from Athena. Athenide, who judged her not for saving the child, and held her hand through the labor, telling Artemis of the procedure all the while. Athenide, who held Asklepios in her arms and brushed him with her wings, and promised he would be truly of her family.)

 

“Now, he is simply one of the many demigods that grow and train here. It will take time, but he will eventually grow to join our ranks. You are welcome to stay and observe, Dio. I’m sure Ariadne would love to see where you learned,” Perse teases, ever the irreverent guardian who raised him.

 

At Panathenaea that year, there is a new prayer honoring Perse upon the Acropolis.

 

Hail, the Mother of Demigods, the Patron of Youth, who has borne a single god-child and carried many. She who wards the world away from the innocence of childhood.  The goddess to whom the children of gods turn first for divine favor.

Perse Kourotrophos

 

---

 

Years later, Eris brings a gift of a single golden apple to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, declaring it to be for the fairest.

 

When the gods cannot decide between the many fair goddesses who grace Olympus, it falls to Paris, a shepherd from Troy, known to be of sound mind and judgement.

 

Queenly Hera stands before him first, bedecked in gold and finery, the image of womanly grace, a queen standing above all others.

 

“I am the monarch of the heavens, guiding the gods and holding our power in unity. I offer you this: power the likes of which you have never known, kingdoms across Europe and Asia, every ounce of splendor the heavens can bring to bear. Choose me as the fairest, and I shall make you a king.”

 

The words come to his lips to declare her the most beautiful before his eyes shift.

 

Wise Athena stands before him next, dressed in silks so fine she could have only woven them herself, accompanied by winged Nike, in blazing gold, and Perse, in the green of the depths, her albatross on her shoulder, a flicker of Athenide catching his eye.

 

“I am the advising hand to the king, who offers wise counsel, cares for the household, and leads his troops to battle. I offer you this: the wisdom of this age and beyond, with the blessings of loyalty and victory that accompany it. Choose me as the fairest, and I shall bring you forth an age in the loyal company of your dearest, victorious in all your endeavors.”

 

(This is her mistake, thinking he will choose wisely and not try to choose the loyal maiden that stands at her side, whom men have sought to capture since the day of her birth.)

 

His eyes alight on Perse Pistós, and he opens his mouth to declare the victor, when fabric flutters before his eyes.

 

Beautiful Aphrodite stands before him last, naked as the day she leapt from the sea, features shifting between the bright-eyed blonde that hovers at Perse’s back to the raven hair and green eyes of Perse herself.

 

“I am the most beloved, she who was born of the sea and grants ephemeral meaning to the lives of men. I offer you this: a love that surpasses any power or wisdom. I cannot give you the great beauty of the heavens that all men seek—,” Her eyes flick over to Perse, “—but only the most calamitous beauty of the mortal realms. Choose me as the fairest, and I shall give you Eleni, who is loyal, who is true, who is loving, who will ensure yours is known as the greatest love.”

 

What she does not say in words, is that Eleni was raised by Perse. That Perse is sworn to protect her by oaths taken upon her first abduction, and will chase down her captors to the ends of the earth. That if Eleni is convinced to stay, some aspect of Perse will be bound to stay with her.

 

He cannot capture Perse in marriage as all men vy to do, but holding her in his home is as close as any will get, when Athena and Poseidon both stand opposed. Zeus himself took this means to bind Perse Pistós.

 

Alas, it is Love that he chooses, for it is Love that makes fools of men, and War that trails in her footsteps.

 

Paris sneaks into the chambers of Eleni of Sparta, a dove whispering in his ear of her beauty, strength, and loyalty. He snatches her from her bed and spirits her away to Troy, promising princely treatment and love beyond all else.

 

Eleni is torn, for she has not known Love in her marriage, not with so much tied to her hand. She does not want all of Troy to die for one man’s mistakes.

 

But she has known Loyalty, deep and true, and it is Perse Pistós who walks beside her with blade in hand, who stays with her in this aspect behind the walls of Troy, who prevents any from impugning upon their honor and loyalty, who never takes a step away from the woman she has sworn to protect.

 

---

 

Thus, the Trojan War begins on the whim of Zeus, wishing to cleanse the world, and the Judgement of Paris, to seek Love and capture Loyalty.

 

It is the Navigator that is called to battle at the head of a thousand ships, shaping the waves and winds for those in her favor.

 

It is the Mother of Youth that spirits Iphigenia away from the altar, leaving behind the bloody entrails of a sacred deer. She takes her to Artemis, and binds the huntress to care for the maiden she would have seen sacrificed, Asklepios minding her care.

 

It is the Guardian that weeps silently behind the walls of Troy as Cassandra is ignored, as Eleni is hounded by Paris, as Troilus is violated and decapitated by Achilles, as Hector goes to the battlefield to die with Andromache bearing his child, honorable and loyal to a man that launched a war out of his base desire.

 

It is the Warrior that walks between the raging seas and the bloody battlefield, sword flashing in her hand, carrying soldiers in her net, calling the storm of her anger to bear. Those that see her face rarely live to tell the tale, cut down by Riptide and caught in her pearlescent net in the same motion.

 

It is the Warrior who watches the walls that her father built burn. Who defends Eleni as the soldiers rush through the palace. Who catches Astyanax as he is thrown from the ramparts, and spirits him away with Andromache. Who petitions Hades for Clytemnestra’s right to Elysium. 

 

Who stewards the fleet to Ithaca, and carries the fallen in its wake, one by one after Odysseus.

Perse Areia

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Perse's a figurehead!
- Perse is the adoptive mother of Dionysus and surrogate mother for Asclepius, as well as a guardian for Helen in childhood; they are the children most often pictured with her in form as Kourotrophos. She chooses to bear Asclepius because she doesn’t want him to suffer for the sins of his parents.
- It's incredibly funny that I can devote a chapter (or two) to the Iliad, and barely two sentences to the Odyssey.
- Perse looks like both Rhea and Pallas, and thus gets compared to them even when she has her own personality. Sometimes, it works to her advantage.

Chapter 8: Righteousness / Misery

Summary:

To truly understand what breaks Perse, one must start before the Trojan War, amid the growing tensions.

To truly understand what breaks Perse, one must start before the Trojan War, amid the growing tensions at the ascension banquet. Typically, the event is a way for her to meet minor gods; to know their names and share her advice, to hope her words might spur their loyalty as time passes.

 

This particular banquet is an exercise of restraint.

 

Perse has spent the previous year seeing Asklepios’ incinerated body behind her eyelids. She has already outlived him; she wonders if her mother had to face the same thought throughout her childhood.

 

The banquet starts with Asklepios having to fight for his seat at the table. Thankfully, Zeus has some meager respect for seniority and allows him his place before his new upstart son, Heracles.

 

The titular hero himself boasts, and boasts, and boasts, as Hera seethes, and Zeus glories in the apotheosis.

 

Perse stays at Amphitrite’s side, wishing in vain that she did not have to attend. Alas, the King thinks himself entitled to her presence after a year spent grieving the son he killed, watching her friend Apollo be stricken down once more for his grief and vengeance.

 

As the banquet winds down, Zeus calls the attention of the Olympian with a sudden crash of lightning.

 

“Asklepios, god of healing. He who heals the incurable. I name you Paean, healer of the gods. You were wed in life—will you choose to remain unwed or choose a bride as you join our court?”

 

Asklepios raises his serpent wreathed staff as he bows before Zeus. “Great King, I would ask to retain my marriage to my beloved Epione, that she and our children may join me in blessing the healing arts, when I can no longer walk the earth.”

 

Many eyes turn to Perse, who beams at her son, still rising from his bow. Whispers circulate of the loyalty she has instilled in him, of this new god’s compassion saving far too many mortals.

 

“Very well. Your household shall be maintained in Epidaurus, which will forever be known as the home of the Healer.”

 

Asklepios steps down and goes to hug each of his parents before spiriting away to find his family. The room quiets as he leaves, the true intent of the banquet finally coming to bear.

 

“My son. God of strength and heroes. Ascendant to our great halls. You have completed your twelve labors and absolved yourself of the sin of your madness.” Zeus booms, directing the attention of the room to Heracles. “For your great deeds, I would offer you a great boon. Come forth and ask, my son, and your desire shall be granted.”

 

The King of the Skies, for all that he sees, does not know the disaster this shall bring.

 

For Heracles, blessed son of Zeus, believes himself desired by the Mother of Demigods, as the greatest among them. 

 

Heracles smirks. “I would have the hand of Perse Pistós in marriage.”

This is the first crack in the amphora.

Chaos swirls through the room, cries of outrage springing forth, both from the gods bound never to pursue Perse, and from those that leap to her defense.

 

“Mind your tongue, upstart. None can pursue Loyalty and take her to wife when she has sworn herself to Athenide; I would have you swear now before you invite the wrath of all Olympus,” Athena snarls, her spear held forth.

 

“Brother, I suggest you control your wayward son, lest he find himself at the bottom of the sea.” Poseidon grips his trident with his right hand and Perse’s hand with his left, as she folds into Amphitrite’s protective embrace. “You know what lengths I have gone to for the sake of my wife. I would not merely chain him to a rock among the waves for his insult to my daughter.”

 

“Peace, Poseidon. Heracles, I cannot grant you this wish, for Loyalty is bound by her own oaths, and us by ours. If you wish to take a goddess to wife, you might have the hand of Hebe, but you must swear, as all of us have, not to pursue Perse.”

 

Heracles grinds his teeth. “Fine. My oaths shall be sworn after my marriage has concluded.”

 

Perse looks at Hebe, pale and stricken, shocked that her father would so quickly offer her as appeasement. She looks at Hera, seething, a mother defied and stolen from.

 

The wedding is crushing in its silence, as bride and groom reluctantly swear vows. Heracles takes Hebe to his new chambers, her hands in his bruising grip.

 

---

 

After night has truly fallen, he leaves her there, silent as the grave, as he makes for the palaces of the seas, his promised oath forgotten amidst the drudgery of the ceremony.

 

He finds Perse sleeping with Athenide by her side.

 

The words spoken earlier by Athena ring through his mind:

 

None can pursue Loyalty and take her to wife when she has sworn herself to Athenide.

 

He raises his club to strike at the hapless bird, when he finds it caught by the length of a blade, oceanic eyes shining in fury in the dim glow of Celestial Bronze.

 

Perse Areia pushes him to his feet, stumbling out of her chambers as her blade dances, carving his cudgel with every strike.

 

“How. Dare. You. You have no right.” Her voice shakes with anger as she pushes him towards the gates of her parents’ palace.

 

“No right? I am the greatest of heroes. I have every right to take you as my bride. I only need to get rid of that pesky bird, and everything will be put to rights,” Hercules taunts, beginning to fight back. She dodges hammer-blows that would make any lesser being paste.

 

“You, the greatest of heroes. Don’t make me laugh. Heracles, who kills everything he touches, who beats his wives and steals from his family, thinks he is the greatest of heroes and thus deserving of my favor.” A storm brews around Perse, kicking her hair up around her shoulders. A crowd begins to form, drawn by the sound of a fight and the sight of Perse, woken from her sleep.

 

“I would never take you as my partner, not even if you were a healer like my son Asklepios, who enriches the lives of those he graces with his talents. Your arrogance does you no favors, Heracles. So long spent as the biggest fish in your little pond has left you wanting for a challenge you cannot overcome, and here it lies before you.” Perse holds fast as Heracles tries to overpower her with sheer strength.

 

“I have overcome every labor set before me, and many more since. There is no challenge that I will not crumble to dust in my hands, not even this fight.” Heracles smiles viciously, blood dripping from his brow. Perse’s mouth stays a flat line as she whips the winds around them, sending Heracles rolling to the edge of the mountain. She marches past the growing crowd to catch him where he falls, the point of her sword pressing into his neck where his cloak does not quite reach.

 

“Then I will offer you not a challenge, but a secret.” She pins him to the ground, her sword still held to his neck, cutting a thin line of ichor that smokes as it strikes the grasses. 

 

She whispers in his ear, “There is no labor of yours that I have not already achieved in my own mortality. What took you twelve years took me the span of four in my youth, and I have defeated Titans and Giants besides. I have walked the depths of Tartarus and faced Primordials with Athenide by my side. You know nothing of what I have faced, because I do not boast of them for all the world to hear. I tend my people and carry out my duties out of my loyalty to them, not to cleanse myself of sin or lord myself over them.”

 

“Here is another secret, wretched Heracles. You have never known my blessing. I would not give it to you if you begged. You have taken my name and carried it as a shield, and carved my agonized face so that you might terrify your enemies. I killed Misery with my bare hands, and you chose to adorn your weapon with my face not in power or joy, but in deepest pain.”

 

“I curse you, Heracles. I give you not my blessing but my bane, for every demigod you have killed, for the hands you have laid on every woman you have taken and bled of their power, of their joy, of their lives. Did you think I would not know what you did to Hebe? I am the patron of youths, of divine blood or not. Her fear struck my heart the moment she was promised in marriage to you. It is no wonder that only Philoctetes was there to light your funeral pyre, when you so easily drive away any that would care for you with violence and rage.”

 

“Beyond all your other transgressions, tonight you chose to strike Athenide while I slept unawares. You are lucky that she is so wise and quick as to avoid your swing.”

 

“For the fact that she lives, I will leave you with the dignity of your immortal life, and none else. You shall know no glory from your name in godhood—those who follow in your path will never direct their prayers to you. No one shall believe the tales spun from your lips.” She cuts deeper into his throat before she wrenches him up, lifting him above her head with inimitable strength.

 

“You will know no company save your own misery for the rest of your existence. Your name will never ring as the god of heroes. Do not presume to invoke my name again, Heracles, lest you wish to face my wrath. I assure you, this night will seem like paradise if I am called to your side again.” 

 

“Why?” He croaks out, throat torn by her blade.

 

“You are the one who chose to cross me. I merely meted out the consequences. You are the one who trails broken vows that beg for my punishment. Be grateful I am not Styx, who would do far worse for lesser oathbreakers.”

 

Perse Areia throws him down the mountain, and watches as he falls upon the rock that will one day be known as Gibraltar.

 

The gossip that circulates in the morning speaks of her wrath, of his misfortune at crossing her. She is not there to hear it, as she escorts Hebe back to her mother’s house and unties the cord binding her to her husband.

 

“I am sorry, Hebe, for all he has done to you. I can only offer my promise that you will not be bound again. My home will always be open as refuge for you, and my blade ready in your defense.” Perse unknots the vows that lay limp around Hebe’s wrist, taken in vain from the moment they were spoken. Hebe’s eyes are dull as she cradles her belly, already quickened with godly pregnancy.”

 

Hebe is silent in her grief, as the innocence that pervades her domain passes into the abstract. She is the Goddess of Youth, and yet holds her golden pitcher, but her own youth has come and gone in the night.

 

Perse holds her hand as she weeps, folding her into a shaking embrace.

 

The moment Perse exits the temple, she is seized in irons and brought before the Olympian Council.

 

Zeus glowers down from his throne, anger percolating in thunderclouds above his head.

 

“Perse Pistós. You come before me. I have allowed you freedom after freedom, and you have used it to hurl Heracles from Olympus. Explain to me why I should not strike you down for nearly killing the greatest of heroes.”

 

Perse inhales sharply through her nose. “He has dishonored me.”

 

Silence falls over the room, crowded with the denizens of Olympus.

 

“He has falsely claimed my blessing, and carved my deepest agonies into his shield to defend himself. Just yesterday, he sought my hand in marriage, and when denied it lashed out against Hebe, his poor wedded wife, the source of this great council’s divine youth.”

 

“After leaving her in his bed, he sought to circumvent the vows which bind me by killing Athenide in the night and stealing me away from my family home.” Athenide perches on her shoulder, her feathers coated in blood.  She chirps in agreement, unwilling to manifest herself.

 

(Athenide is talking a mile a minute into Perse’s mind, spinning words into a narrative that will not break the tenuous balance of fate. She will not expend power to show herself, not when they may need it to escape.)

 

“I took it upon myself to correct his injustices, as the patron of demigods, for he is barely ascendant himself. I fought him from my rooms with the power I would expect of a hero of his supposed strength, and found him wanting. True, I threw him from the mountain, but I left him alive, at the borders of our great lands, where he may guard the way, once he has learned humility.”

 

“So, King of the Heavens, He who administers his Kingdom with Justice and Wisdom, I stand before you falsely accused of killing your son, whom you call the greatest of heroes. I merely acted to defend myself and avenge the false oaths he took in my name. Would you begrudge me this? Beyond his crimes against me, Heracles is guilty of stealing the valor of others and breaking his vows. I hold not his madness against him, but the actions he took in absolving himself. Let it be known that he is no great hero for the slaughter he leaves in his wake.”

 

(The Great King must choose between his son’s glories, and the Loyalty that has stayed within his kingdom for centuries. Will he chain her, strike her down, and risk losing all that she means to Olympus for the sake of his most heroic son?)

 

Perse stands, head held proud and tall. She carries the chains that bind her wrists as if they weigh nothing at all, as if she has borne far greater burdens. Athena and Poseidon rush to her side as outrage spreads out through the court of Olympus, her story ringing true.

 

Zeus calls to his attendants to release her from her chains, as the other Olympians turn to face him with vengeance brewing.

 

Hera smiles wickedly, glad to see Heracles taken down a peg. Perse does not often find sympathy for the prideful queen of the gods, but in this moment, she sees a heartbroken mother and dishonored wife, as her husband reaps the consequences of his mistakes.

 

The tale spreads across the world as Perse is freed, and a new name is carried on the winds.

Perse Dikaiosyne

 

---

It is after her trial that Zeus decides upon the necessity of the Trojan War.

 

Let the greatest of heroes be born and die, and those remaining start anew.

 

The new start takes time, for Rome was not built in a day.

 

At first it is as though nothing has changed. Perse’s name is invoked by those who recall her from Troy, wishing to bring Loyalty to bless the country that grows in the lands of Latium.

 

She finds the Twelfth Legion, all of godly blood, collected together that they might defend Rome using old power, as the Olympian gods shift from the lands of Greece. She blesses them with protection, in the hopes that they might build a place where demigods can grow and thrive in safety, when Mt. Pelion lies abandoned, and her temples fall to the waters, taken by the erosion of centuries.

 

The metamorphosis does her no justice.

 

Perse is carved away, her legacy of the seas gone, her children torn from her arms. Poseidon and Amphitrite are diminished purely to the waters, and Athena goes mad, trapped in her household as her temples are desecrated.

 

Nerio Fides is shaped from the remains of Perse Pistós, the spirit of loyalty and patriotism, patron of the home guard, the winged daughter of Jupiter, the bride of Mars, a blessed welcome home. Legionnaires swear upon her name as they take their oaths.

 

Brides of raven hair and green eyes are often taken as consorts, symbolizing the loyalty owed to the emperor. They learn to hide these traits in childhood, as the obsession grows across Rome.

 

Eventually, even the value of Loyalty is stripped from her. Athenide’s wings are torn from her spine as the goddess weeps, bereft of her sworn companion, her anchor.

 

Nerio Fides fades as betrayal wracks the Roman Empire, as capitals shift and cities are sacked, burning before her. The split aspects of the gods remain as the children of each side go to war, never knowing true Loyalty again.

 

A single legion carries on her name.

 

---

 

All that is left is Misery.

 

Misery, the deadliest poison pulled from the edge of Chaos in Tartarus.

 

She sits by the banks of Styx, pulling regrets from her waters with hands that feel nothing but the raging hate.

 

She no longer carries souls across the river, her net cast and fallen in the deep. Instead, she watches as the population grows, and grows, and grows, and there is no one to give payment for their safe passage.

 

Even Styx herself can barely feel her presence on the edges of the world, her champion cast away.

 

She goes to the rivers, where Styx meets Acheron, meets Cocytus, meets Phlegethon, meets Lethe.

 

She submerges herself in the river of oblivion, choosing to fade and forget all that followed her godly ascension.

 

All that they took from her.

By the time the sons of Kronos swear their oath not to sire children with mortals, there is nothing left of her. Not even her name to swear upon.

Perse Akhlys

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- I am playing with the timing here a little bit--I find the story flows a little better if you can backtrack to see the reason why she is so affected by the war. Also, the confrontation almost bloomed into a second chapter before I got it back in check.
- Perse, Athenide, and Apollo have a fun coparenting relationship :). Despite taking after his father, Asklepios is forever a mamas' boy.
- We all hate Heracles in this house.
- The curse she lays on him is essentially sealing him to immortality without worship, as a guardian spirit sustained by his unending duty, with a side of "No one will ever believe you."
- Perse shares her names this chapter: Dikaiosyne is an epithet of Dike, goddess of Justice, and of course Akhlys is shared.

Chapter 9: Heroism

Summary:

There is still a fight ongoing.

A goddess floats in the aether.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her domains cast adrift.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A piercing voice cuts through the silence:

 

Oh, great-granddaughter. 

 

Did you think you could escape me by hurling yourself through the weave of Fate? By taking the time my son left within you and twisting it to try and spare your friends?

 

A tricky bit of spellcraft, that. Well done.

 

I didn’t do anything special.

 

Do not test me, Percy.

 

I have known you from the first breath you took.

 

I have watched you dance among the riptides, watched you train your heroes, watched you take the miseries of all the world upon yourself. All for some small hope at granting your friends a chance against me.

 

I have held your temples beneath my surface for millennia, knowing you would one day return.

 

Hail, the conquering hero.

 

What temples? I’m mortal here. All of that is lost to time.

 

Where’s Annabeth?

 

There are none here but you and me, child.

 

Do you think a mother does not know another mother’s desperation? Athena cursed Rome as Athenide died, tying her fate to the statue that bears her likeness, your blade kept safe in her hands. The albatross is gone, but the spirit survives.

 

Annabeth is elsewhere, Percy.

 

It is time for us to talk.

 

Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.

 

Forgotten what?

 

Forgotten the war that threatens your existence? Forgotten the enmity that rises between your campers and your legionnaires, who forget your blessing in turn?

 

Forgotten all the damage that your beloved mortals have done to me and mine in the millennia that I lay sleeping?

 

I hold your pitiful life in the palm of my hand and you presume ignorance.

 

Oh.

 

What do you want from me?

 

I want many things, Percy.

 

I want sacrificial blood on ancient stones.

 

I want my children to feast on the bounty of my Earth.

 

I want the cycle to meet its proper place, as I have slept for long enough. The Great Stirring has ended, and I awaken.

 

I want the days of old to return, when Primordials could walk the planet in peace, where my children could know the glory of daylight and not the darkness of the pit.

 

I want the Earth to grow, to rise in mountains and collapse canyons, to reshape its face, to be the home of creatures never before seen.

 

It sounds like you want to return to the Golden Era, or even before.

 

I suppose that is one word for it.

 

That’s not anything I can give you.

 

You discount the power of humans.

 

They carve out from beneath the surface of my skin, and set fire to the forests that grant shelter to many living beings. The sky bears gaping holes for the rubble of space to strike upon me. The oceans rise, eating away at the shores and striking through the borderlands with impunity.

 

They forget that they live at the mercy of the ground beneath them.

 

The ground moves with or without you. I feel it in my bones when I walk on fault lines. There’s plenty that the earth does itself.

 

What about the gods, destructive in their whims, yet indulging the progress of their pets as they race to destroy me. Even when they fight to preserve their rule, do they leave damage in their wake. Remember Typhon and all it took for him to be sealed. Remember every lightning bolt that has sought to strike you down. 

 

The gods will not care if I destroy your puny little camp. Your legion of pitiful legacies.

 

It’s in their very nature. I would know.

 

You know full well that I care, and that is all that matters.

 

I’m the one trying to save my friends from your promised destruction.

 

I’m also of nature, in case you forgot. And Nature is something that can change, whether left to the elements or guided.

 

I am Nature. I have no need for guidance. 

 

I get it. You think I haven’t thought about it? How easy it would be? I’ve had a death sentence from the moment I was born.

 

Yes, a death sentence laid by the gods who feared what you represented yet wanted you so much they would kill to have you. Who split themselves among aspects and watched you bleed out, wasting the years of your hard work that sustain them to this day.

 

In this way, you are not so different from me, Percy. Powerful beings, all seeking to covet you, neglecting your own power and treating you as a tool.

 

Don’t you want more? You would do anything for those you protect. So would I.

 

I could allow you to preserve them as I awaken.

 

I could make you queen of the oceans, not a vestige of this era, but the proof of my victory.

 

I could give you everything, Percy.

 

Just step aside.

 

...

 

That’s not what I want.

 

That’s never been what I want.

 

Listen up, Gaea. 

 

I am not in here with you.

 

You are in here with me.

 

I fight to save the world for them to live in it.

 

Your children have been struck down, Titans and Giants alike. The Doors of Death are closed. They are gone because they threatened me and mine, because we went through hell to do it. Annabeth and I brought your own children to close them. 

 

Your time in daylight has passed. If you wake, you will find yourself at the mercy of my family. I have no doubt they will strike you down. You went to all the effort of hunting down each and every one of us; you now face every aspect of your destruction brought to bear.

 

If you keep me here, I will be the ocean that drowns you as they cut you apart. I will be the poison that heralds your miserable end.

 

After all, all it takes to defeat a god is trapping them out of their domain.

 

I learned that from you.

 

Perse Iroïkós

Chapter 10: Commander / Fate

Summary:

Who grieves more, those who forget, or the forgotten?

The unfolding of memory is often strange.

 

The severed end of a thread binds to another, older yet, and rejoins the tapestry, gold bound to green.

 

How can someone remind you of something they have always been?

 

Who grieves more, those who forget, or the forgotten?

 

The memory of Perse Pistós, of Athenide Polias, of Perse and Athenide, of Perse Athenide, strikes the gods. Split aspects fall away as Loyalty shows her true face for the first time in millennia, and Athena Parthenos stands guard over her beloved camp.

 

---

 

Piper drips nectar into Annabeth’s mouth, her hands shaking. 

 

Her body yet lies still on the ground, eyes upturned to the sky, blood seeping from beneath her.

 

“What just happened?” Leo shouts as he pilots the Argo II to land atop the Acropolis. “Did we get them?”

 

“Annabeth’s down,” Piper shouts back. “She needs healing.”

 

“Where’s Percy?” Jason asks, lightning still coursing around him, high in the air. “The storm just dropped. Is she okay?”

 

Hazel slides down from Arion’s back, pressing her hands into the earth. The Mist disperses in a circle across the Acropolis. 

 

“She’s not here.” She reaches, hoping to feel something, anything.

 

“All I saw was the flash, and the giants exploding into dust,” Frank says, transforming into a crow as he leaps down from the top of a pillar, coming to a stop next to Hazel on the ground.

 

“Don’t land! Are you bleeding?” She yelps, lifting him onto her arm. “The sacrifice is still ongoing. If any of you bleed on the stones, she wakes. Get back to the ship; we’re holding off the inevitable.”

 

Hazel shepherds the boys back toward the ship before leaping on Arion’s back to search the surroundings.

 

There is nothing but the dust of giants, and a singular fountain, decorated with seashells and mother-of-pearl, its waters clear and pure. Hazel approaches, wary.

 

She dips her hand into the water, and watches as a blister heals, barely formed and yet fading.

 

“Bring her here! The fountain can heal her!” She shouts to Piper, still on the ground beside Annabeth.

 

Piper lifts Annabeth onto the stretcher she once weaved for Jason in Ithaca. Hazel dashes over, picking up the handles to carry her.

 

The bleeding slows as she is placed into the basin. Piper pours more nectar down her throat, enough that smoke begins to drift off her skin.

 

Piper sets the canteen down, her hands away long enough to watch a spasm wrack through Annabeth. One, then another, then another, until she begins to seize.

 

Hazel and Piper hold her body down as she writhes, eyes unseeing but moving faster than they can perceive.

 

She can’t die here.

 

She just can’t.

 

It is not accurate to say the gods arrive. There is no pomp and ceremony, no chariots from the sky, no grand ado.

 

They are simply there.

 

Athena rushes to the fountain where her daughter lies unseeing.

 

For a moment, she is taken aback by the similarity of the moment to one so long ago. But here and now, Perse Percy is nowhere to be seen, and Athenide Annabeth lies dying, a mirror of the day Athena first cursed Rome.

 

“She needs true healing,” Athena says to Apollo. “Call your son. Call Asklepios from Epidaurus. He must see her.”

 

Poseidon brushes his hand over the fountain he created so long ago, urging every ounce of his remaining essence to heal Annabeth.

 

In this moment, she is all that is left of his daughter.

 

Leo comes forward, floating gently in Jason’s arms, a small vial in hand. “He made the physician’s cure for us.” 

 

He pours the glowing liquid into Annabeth’s slack mouth, and quietly, privately, consigns himself to his prophesied death.

 

She lies still and silent, gods and heroes gathered around her, a makeshift altar to a great hero and guardian spirit.

 

Athena breaks, weeping into her bloody shoulder.

 

“I am sorry, my daughter. I did not know. I did not know you came to me again. I am sorry for the role I have played in your suffering. I am sorry she is not here. I did not do enough.” 

 

“I have been so afraid since the moment you first passed, that I wished I would never face the heartbreak of losing my dear child. I wished disaster upon those who took you from me. Alas, I have held myself apart and you have all died in my name, again and again.”

 

“Perse is lost to us both. The memory of Loyalty came to me as though lightning struck, and yet the moment I came before you she was gone.”

 

---

 

A single drop of blood falls unnoticed to the ground, from a cut made by the glass of the vial in Leo’s hand.

 

The earth trembles, pebbles shaking loose beneath their feet.

 

Athena holds a hand to Annabeth’s chest and feels the rise and fall of slow breath.

 

---

 

Annabeth opens her eyes, cradled in her weeping mother’s arms, feeling as though she has lived an age beyond what her body has ever been capable of. 

 

She wakes with a rush of memories, of watching Perse Pistós Percy scream as she fell from the sky, arrows piercing through her wings, her spine, her throat. Of centuries lived, halfway between dream and waking, a goddess and yet not.

 

Of every attempt made to wrest her away from Perse Percy, for the sake of making her love a kept woman.

 

It is strange to see her hands, the tangible hands of the body that brought her this far. As she stretches them out she feels the press of new muscles along her spine, great wings unfurling from bloody sockets past her shoulder blades.

 

She stands in the fountain, slow and careful.

 

The gods look upon Athenide Polias, once more in her patron city. A melding of form, of girl and lucky bird, graces the Acropolis.

 

“My destined heroes. Your triumph rings proud across our world. Athena Parthenos stands at Camp Half-Blood, the ancient curse of enmity ended.” Hera raises her hands to the heroes. “You have come so far.”

 

“Hera, mind your tongue. You have sown enough chaos here.” Zeus looms tall and imposing as Hera shrinks back.

 

“I merely meant to–”

 

“Your ‘mere’ meddling got my daughter killed!” Athena snarls, her hand still on Annabeth’s shoulder.

 

“And mine lost to the weave of fate. Prophecy has never been your domain, sister. What possessed you to think you could control this one?” Poseidon speaks in an even tone, belying the anger that simmers beneath. 

 

“Our family has been separated long enough. I thought–”

 

“Enough. Stop passing the blame. Gaea is awake. We have to get back to camp.” Annabeth cuts through the rising clamor.

 

“We don’t have time. It took months to make it here.” Leo starts frantically calculating.

 

“At best it would be a week,” Hephaestus rumbles. “You need more power.”

 

“Couldn’t you come with us? You came here,” Hazel says. She doesn’t say that they came too late, that it took Percy’s sacrificial ascension to end the giants, that the worst has come to pass and yet the gods stand before them, restored.

 

“Oh, darling. It’s not that easy. If we could defeat every threat that stood before us, don’t you think we would? You all are destined to defeat Gaea, not us.” Aphrodite says. “While she lived, Perse loved you all so much that she would twist fate beyond repair to spare you. I watched her train her heroes. We are not all so lucky to share in her kindness.” She looks at Annabeth, the very image of Percy in her prime, her smile a little too perfect to be correct. “You are the remnants of our oldest power. You carry the best of us in your veins.”

 

“Fine. We will go, the six of us. Can you get us there faster?” Annabeth says sharply, turning to Zeus.

 

“I could throw you,” he says, begrudging.

 

“The ship can’t take that. You’d break apart on landing,” Hephaestus says, leaning over Leo’s shoulder.

 

“We just have to get there. It’ll last long enough,” Leo says, with resolve in his voice.

 

“Then you throw us, and we go to fight at Camp. Once Gaea is defeated, we’ll talk. Swear to me, on Perse’s name, that you will grant us an audience, and no blame will be passed, no punishment meted until we meet.” Annabeth addresses the gods, no longer just the demigod hero, but every inch the guardian who walked as their peer so long ago. The goddess, who knows the whims of the Council as though she could dictate them.

 

This oath is sworn as the demigods are strapped in, as Zeus grows to a hundred feet tall, and launches the ship through the sky, prow first.

 

(She does not say that she can feel Percy still, a lingering thread in the direction of home.

 

If she speaks it aloud, it will not be true again.)

Athenide Dioikitís

 

---

 

The Athena Parthenos settles atop Half-Blood Hill as Reyna calls for peace, the armies beneath her still riled for battle. Nico marches through lines of campers, blade in hand, calling attention to the trembling of the earth.

 

I wake.

 

An army of monsters encircles the camp.

 

Her paltry blessing will never bear fruit.

 

The demigods surge forward, legion and campers in unison.

 

I am eternal.

 

I am the Primordial Earth.

 

I am–

 

The rising mound of earth and rock is snatched from the air in the claws of a bronze dragon.

 

Jason lands with Piper as Hazel and Frank match pace on Arion.

 

Annabeth lands, a mirror image of the winged statue held in Athena ’s hand. She calls the troops to rally, drakon-bone sword cutting through the oncoming horde. Reyna raises her sword in acknowledgement, a praetor to a commander.

 

Arrows fly from Frank’s bow, the blessing of Mars a twin to the blessing that shrouds Clarisse as they shout commands. Hazel charges, leading the Fifth Cohort through lines of wild centaurs as she releases sinking demigods from the earth. The Twelfth Legion marches in line with the Defenders of Olympus, a sight never before seen.

 

Jason and Piper fly up towards the dragon who first carried them on their quest. 

 

Leo grins down at them, his skull wreathed in flame. Blasts of fire leave craters in Gaea’s form, slowly wearing through the endless mud.

 

Jason calls lightning, careful to dive around the bursts as he brings the winds to contain Gaea’s mass as it rips away from the ground.

 

Piper laces her tongue with magic, with charm, with everything the ineffable power of Love can muster.

 

---

 

 

SLEEP.

 

 

 

---

 

Festus continues to rise as Gaea’s form solidifies, making for Long Island Sound at the edge of Camp. 

 

Leo gives Jason a sad smile.

 

“Go.”

 

Jason drops through the clouds, numb, as Piper screams.

 

---

 

A mad augur stands before a readied onager.

 

“Don’t you understand? I’m doing this for Loyalty! For the patron of the legion, Nerio Fides! I’m the one who saw the signs! I’m bringing her back to prominence, as my family has always promised to do! Once these graeci scum are eliminated, she’ll come back to us! I will be known as the Pontifex Maximus who brought Loyalty back to Rome!”

 

Nico and Will watch in silence as Octavian is snapped through the air, an unwilling passenger towards his fate.

 

---

 

As Leo flies on Festus’ back, a voice trickles through his head.

 

I’m not letting you die here.

 

He whips around. “What?”

 

Leo. I’m not letting you die here. I’ve had enough of sacrifices.

 

“Percy? Where are you? How did you–”

 

It doesn’t matter. I need you to trust me.

 

“Okay, but I have to blow her up where she can’t touch the Earth, or she’ll wake up again. The only way to control the explosion is if I’m manning Festus.”

 

When you make it over the Sound, let go. I’ll catch you. Trust that I can handle the containment.

 

“But–”

 

Leo. I will catch you. I’m not letting you die for this.

 

“It’s the only way I can get back–”

 

To Ogygia? It’s not the only way. There’s a reason heroes can only go once, but there are other ways.

 

“I made a promise.”

 

Why did you do that. Why.

 

“I love–”

 

You just think that. She does it to everyone. She did it to me, too. 

 

How about this: if I promise to help you get back there when Gaea is defeated, will you listen to me and let go when she’s over the water?

 

“You can do that?”

 

Leo. Answer the question.

 

“Sorry, Percy.”

 

Still not an answer.

 

“I’ll let go, I’ll let go, jeez.”

 

Incoming! Now, Leo!

 

Leo falls through the air, an ember compared to the inferno that rips through the sky and crashes into Gaea. He watches as Gaea, fireball and all, is snuffed out by roiling waves and riptides, the water dark and ominous.

 

His last thought before hitting the water is of Festus.

Perse Adrasteia

 

---

 

Leo strikes the water with a splash, but none of the expected pain of falling from a great height. Before he can sink too deep, a current gently drags him to the surface before spitting him out on shore. He walks forward on shaky legs, but falls to his knees as the impossibility of the moment strikes.

 

He survived. He survived when he was supposed to die, an oath to keep with a final breath , and yet he is still here, breathing.

 

He lies on his back, just watching the sky.

 

That night, Annabeth finds him on the beach. 

 

“They’re looking for you.”

 

“I just need a minute.”

 

In lieu of arguing, she sweeps him up into a bridal carry and takes off in the direction of the amphitheater.

 

“You know this is terrifying, right? This is kidnapping, Annabeth!”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

When she sets him down by the bonfire, a cheer goes up from the assembled demigods.

 

“Don’t do that, Leo. I thought I–I thought we lost you,” Jason says, pulling him into a bear hug. Piper envelops them both, blocking off the crowd.

 

Hazel and Frank run over from the Roman contingent and join the group hug, pulling Annabeth in as they go. 

 

Piper whispers in his ear, “What the hell, Leo? You didn’t even have the physician’s cure anymore. How did you make it out? I know you’re fireproof, but that’s beyond survivable.”

 

Before he can get a word out, Chiron steps up to address the crowd.

 

“Out of every tragedy comes new strength. Today, we thank the gods for this victory. To the gods!”

 

The first cheers are a little halfhearted.

 

“And to new friends!”

 

“TO NEW FRIENDS!”

 

After a few drinks, Reyna comes forward with Frank, to speak of peace, of free exchange, of unity and loyalty and safety for all demigods. She grabs Nico around the shoulders and pulls him in, saying, “We had one home. Now we have two.”

 

 

 

As the night starts to come to a close, Annabeth stands, disentangling herself from a flock of her siblings, all eager to preen and ask about her wings. 

 

“Before we wind down, I’d like to tell you all a story. A variation on one you might have heard, that many of us are only just remembering.”

 

“Once, there was a city by the name of Attica, whose worship Athena and Poseidon both sought. To determine the patronage of the city, they agreed upon a contest; whoever created the gift the city found most useful would become its patron, and take the name of the city for themself.”

 

Her siblings nod in recognition, the familiar cadence of Annabeth’s storytelling a balm after weeks of tension.

 

“Poseidon went first, and created a saltwater spring, healing and pure, that the city might use to advance its technology and bless its denizens. Alas, the king came forth and tasted the waters before he could explain, and deemed the fountain useless.”

 

“Seeing this, Athena took a twig and wove it into a tree–the first olive tree. She spoke of the branches for lumber, the leaves for laurels, the fruit for oil and food.”

 

“The king declared her the winner, and the name of the city Athens, but did not see the water rising, nor did he see the shaking of the earth dislodge a single branch of the olive tree.”

 

“When the fountain subsided, the fountain was no longer empty. Instead, there stood a girl in armor, with silver streaks in her black hair and coral around her neck, her eyes the very green of the sea. She was strong and powerful, a beauty rendered through imperfection. She called to Poseidon, naming him her father.”

 

With this, the whispers running through the crowd begin to rise in volume.

 

“Poseidon said to Athens, ‘Look upon the gift I would have given you and despair. A daughter of the sea would have blessed your shores, her bounty unmatched. She is no nymph, no fountain spirit, but a patron goddess. Instead you took the paltry fruits of the owl-eyed one and rejected our blessings. From now on this city, this Athens, shall hold no favor with the seas.’ He picked her up in his hand, fountain and all, and made to leave for the seas.”

 

“But before he could, Athena stood in his way. She said, ‘She is not solely a daughter of the sea. She bears the mark of wisdom, emerging armored as a warrior as I did from my father’s skull. I would have her known as Athenide, patron of Athens, born of the olive branch as it graced the waters, the lady of the sword. I know my daughter stands before me, born of thought and divine favor.’”

 

“At this moment, the girl spoke. ‘My name is Perse. I am not your daughter,’ she said to Athena. ‘Your daughter accompanies me. If any deserve the name Athenide, it is she, who first armored me, who has guided my path with wisdom, who knows the possibility in this city.’”

 

The bonfire jumps and crackles behind her, attuned to the emotion of the gathering.

 

“Athena furrowed her brow, but followed her gaze to a mere flicker, a shade of the one Perse claimed to be hers. She said, ‘So be it. I name your companion Athenide Polias, patron spirit of Athens, blessed daughter of Pallas Athena.’”

 

The eyes of the audience go to the winged statue in the hand of Athena Parthenos , identical to Annabeth in this moment.

 

“But before she could claim the spirit for herself, the specter asked Poseidon to take them both to the seas. And so they went, only seen by the sun before they dived beneath the waves. You all know what that means,” she points to the Apollo campers as laughter starts to permeate.

 

“Naturally, everyone and their mother had heard of the new goddess by the time Athena came to Zeus, to ask for them to be presented before Olympus. Zeus granted her request, wishing to see her for himself.

 

“Soon, the day came for Perse to be presented before Olympus. Her family came with her from the seas in a grand procession both beneath and above the water.”

 

“Upon presentation to Olympus, she was offered three gifts: a boon from Zeus, a claim from Athena, and a marriage from Hera. To Ares. She refused each in turn.”

 

At this, the clamor turns from whispers to shouts.

 

“Quiet down. We’re almost done. Upon her final refusal, she swore a sacred oath to Athenide, asking for her companionship, her knowledge, and her time manifest, and that if any saw them separated, they would know no Loyalty from then on. Zeus decreed that Loyalty could not be solely held by the seas; thus Perse and Athenide must travel from sea to mountain and back with every solstice, a parallel to Persephone.”

 

“Thus goes the story of the birth of Perse Pistós. This is the version the gods would have me tell you. I have a few more details to add.”

 

“First, that Perse Pistós became known as Nerio Fides to Rome, but her truest name was, and has always been, Percy Jackson.”

 

“Second, she was Athena’s daughter-in-law.”

 

“Third, she’s the reason most of us are here. I live, Leo lives, we all live through her sacrifice. So I’d like to raise a glass to Loyalty, to the bond that holds us here, but also to Percy.”

 

“To Percy Jackson!” Every demigod that remains by the fire takes a drink to the memory of Percy, good and bad. It is sobering, to know she is one of the heroes not present for this celebration.

 

With that, Annabeth deems her revelations done for the evening, and takes off towards the sky, away from the whoops of excitement resounding by the campfire.

 

---

 

When most people have gone to bed, Annabeth sneaks over to the canoe lake.

 

She takes her shoes off and sprawls over the dock on her stomach, wings folded behind her. The water is abnormally still, nary a ripple across the entire lake.

 

“I know you’re down there.” 

 

At first, she thinks she is hoping for nothing.

 

Then, the surface breaks, and Percy is there. She swims over to the dock.

 

“How did you know?” She asks, incredulous.

 

“I felt it.” Annabeth offers her a hand out of the lake, but Percy yanks her in instead.

 

A bubble surrounds them, keeping Annabeth’s wings dry, not knowing if she can breathe the water in this form, after years spent under the sea.

 

“I heard you were telling stories by the campfire.”

 

“I was.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“The fountain. I’m saving the fun ones for later, when you’re here to get embarrassed about it.”

 

The bubble sinks to the bottom of the lake as they sit in a comfortable silence.

 

Percy breaks the silence. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. How you’re just Annabeth again.”

 

Annabeth hums. “I don’t know that I’m ‘just’ Annabeth again. I’ve changed a lot. I’m not pretending at anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

 

“I lost you.”

 

“…”

 

“Twice.”

 

“…”

 

“You were the only thing keeping me sane there, and I broke as soon as you were gone. I don’t know if I can go back, knowing that.”

 

“I feel more than a little insane myself, Percy. But I promised myself I would find you again, and it’s been keeping me going through all of this. They look at me so differently, with these,” she gestures at her wings. “I’m both Annabeth and Athenide, and I have to face the fact that everyone is going to come to know both. We both do.”

 

“And how are they going to react to all of this? The last time I told someone I threw them off a mountain.”

 

“First off, Hercules doesn’t count. Second, they’re our friends and family. I’m sure they’ll understand. You’ve been holding it off for years—I’m sure Sally’s been expecting it, at the least.”

 

“Oh my gods, my mom is alive.”

 

“She is. I don’t want to have to tell her that you’ve returned from being missing and just won’t get out of the lake because you’re afraid of her reaction. She will come down here.”

 

“Okay, okay.” Percy tugs Annabeth into a hug. “Can we pretend, for tonight at least, that we’ve come back and everything is normal? I’ve missed this.”

 

Annabeth sinks into the embrace, the first real touch they have shared in centuries.

 

“Sure, Seaweed Brain. As long as we’re together.”

 

---

 

The gods know that Gaea has been dispersed, the Earth Mother no longer conquering nature.

 

The gods know that the curse on Rome has ended, that the demigods have repelled the attacks on their homes. 

 

The gods know of Loyalty’s return, and the Council awaits their audience.

 

But for now, it is just Percy and Annabeth, Perse and Athenide, kissing beneath the canoe lake in this infinite moment before the rest of their lives.

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Chiron & Reyna's speeches are taken / paraphrased from pages 475-477 of The Blood of Olympus.
- Dioikitís means commander, Adrasteia means inescapable in the context of fate. I considered others, but these just fit too well.
- Annabeth is using mostly exact dialogue.

Chapter 11: Divinity

Summary:

The time comes for reward and punishment.

Persephone Pallas Jackson wakes up on the second of August with drool on her cheek, her girlfriend sprawled over her, and anger creeping in the back of her mind.

 

The morning comes with the rush of memories, of every oath she has borne witness to, and knows broken in her absence.

 

The morning comes, and the gods await their audience.

 

---

 

Chiron sits alone at the head table, looking over the demigods sitting slumped over their plates, having just awoken or never slept at all. Greeks and Romans share tables, the mess hall crammed to capacity.

 

Annabeth calls for attention. “We have to make a trip to Olympus.”

 

Groans resound.

 

“They’ve finally lifted the restrictions and they’re not going to wait much longer. I’m not dragging you all out there; you deserve a break. All I’m asking for is quest-goers. The van’s outside. The rest of you, tell me now if there is anything you want said before the council.”

 

“Tell them we need nectar and ambrosia. The infirmary’s seriously running low,” Will Solace calls from the Apollo table. A chorus of assent goes around as more requests are shouted.

 

“Tell them we’re still looking for the dead, and we can’t weave shrouds nearly as fast as we need to,” says Malcolm, from next to her at the Athena table. The mood turns somber at the reminder.

 

“Tell them we’ve held down the fort, and Camp still stands.” Clarisse pushes up from the Ares table and walks towards Annabeth, clapping her on the shoulder. “As minimal casualties as we could muster. We stand victorious over the armies of Gaea.”

 

A cheer goes up as the remaining Seven make their way out of the mess hall, followed by Reyna, the legion shouting her name as she passes.

 

The walk is peaceful but solemn, as the gravity of the situation sets in.

 

Nico catches Annabeth as she walks towards Half-Blood Hill, saying, “Tell them that they can’t bind her. She’s our patron. For all of us. I know she’s not gone, so tell her she has to come home.”

 

Annabeth laughs as she steps into the passenger seat. “Tell them yourself. You’re coming with, Ghost King. I said quest-goers, and you certainly qualify.”

 

Hazel tugs him in by the arm, as the heroes of the Great Prophecy pile into the Delphi Strawberry Service van.

 

Once everyone settles in, a voice pipes up from the driver’s seat. “Are you all ready to walk to your death?”

 

They all turn to see Percy dressed in a new Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, turning the keys to start the van with a wry grin on her face.

 

“You didn’t think you were going without me, did you?”

 

Annabeth takes the moment just to laugh as the cries of jubilation echo down the hill, and they begin to make their way.

 

---

 

As they step into the lobby of the Empire State Building, the security guard doesn’t look up from his book, but throws a card that Annabeth catches out of the air.

 

“What’s the deal this time?” Percy asks.

 

“You made an appointment. Get to it.” The security guard turns a page, clearly intent on ignoring them.

 

Annabeth holds Percy’s hand in a vice grip as they approach the elevator. The paneling, an inverse mirror of the Doors of Death, white and gold in place of bronze and black, sends a shiver down both their spines. She squeezes back as the elevator chimes, the cheerful sound echoing through the lobby.

 

She breathes, slow and steady, as the doors open and the others, save Nico and Annabeth, marvel at the majesty of Olympus.

 

It is the first time that the gates have been open since the end of the last Great Prophecy. They look at new temples along the winding path, built to Annabeth’s specifications over the damage left the last time they were here.

 

“Wait. Before you all go in, let Annabeth and I go first.” The Mist shimmers over them both, forming garments of green and gold, of blue and orange, and jewelry of gold and pearl, of lapis lazuli. “We’ll make sure they let you in.”

 

They walk to the doors of the throne room hand in hand, an affirmation of every vow they have taken since last they stood before these doors.

 

The Olympian Council pauses mid-discussion as Perse Pistós and Athenide Sofía walk into the room, striding forward with purpose.

 

“We’ve come to claim our audience.”

 

The shock of seeing them in full form radiates through the room. Poseidon beams with pride and Athena smiles warmly down at the sight of her daughter finally, finally stepping into Olympus in truth.

 

“Perse Pistós. You have returned to us,” Zeus rumbles.

 

“I am here, once again, at the behest of the Olympian Council.”

 

“Athenide has sworn us not to mete out punishment, nor determine accountability until you have come before us. It is time to put an end to the chaos,” he says, as the doors begin to close.

 

“Not so fast. The heroes of this Prophecy will bear witness to this conversation. I think we can all agree that there are none more deserving of rewards and recognition. Wouldn’t you say, Hera?” Annabeth stares up at the goddess that tormented her for years in mortality as Percy holds the door open, ushering the others in.

 

Hera looks down upon them, silent, as every eye in the room turns to her.

 

“I too, would hear this. I ordered Olympus closed, to combat the effects of split domains upon us, and yet at every turn, I find your hand, meddling in the affairs of these heroes.”

 

“Did greatness not emerge from it? Greece and Rome are reunited, and fought together to defeat Gaea. Athena Parthenos stands restored. The giants are defeated. We finally know from whence Perse Pistós and Athenide Sofía came to us, and now see them restored as goddesses. I saw no wrong in aiding these heroes.”

 

“And what of the violence, the carnage? The enmity that rose in our children and threatened to tear us apart while the Gigantes ran amok? You yourself had to be freed from the trap of Porphyrion. The world reels, and all you say is that you had no fault,” Athena says. “What do you have to say of my daughter’s death? We might have had our wits about us enough to join the battle, instead of relying on the luck of Perse’s ascension and the fortitude of these heroes in our incapacitated state.”

 

“Enough,” Zeus huffs. “We have discussed this enough with no resolution. For this, Hera, I sentence you to confinement upon Olympus. You shall have no hand in the fate of heroes nor be able to issue quests. You shall grant neither boon nor bane. You will watch these heroes pass on into greatness with no worship sworn to your name. Only when I know your penitence in truth shall your confinement end.”

 

“So be it.” Hera’s gaze passes over the demigods, stopping on Jason for a single, wistful moment, before she disappears in a flash of gold and peacock feathers.

 

“So mote it be. Hera is not the only one among us whose meddling hands have led to disaster. Apollo. What do you have to say of your descendant, who led the legion into conflict, claiming divine prophecy, when your oracles have since fallen to agents of Gaea?”

 

Apollo, eyes wide, says, “I–-”

 

“Fate reels, with two Great Prophecies fulfilled in as many years, and you have nothing to say. Perhaps this domain would be better held by another until you again prove yourself worthy of it.”

 

“Okay, we are not doing this,” Percy interrupts. “I know it is easy to want control again after time spent without it, but disproportionate punishments on a whim will do no good for anyone. You have not even considered the augur’s fate. Nico, tell him.”

 

Nico steps forward. “I watched Octavian die, priestly vestments trapped in the payload of an onager, crying delusions of bringing glory to Rome by restoring Nerio Fides. He would not listen to reason, from his own lieutenant or otherwise.” He steps back next to Reyna as Percy speaks once more.

 

“I have never once heard true prayer from Octavian. Neither, I think, has Apollo. Whomever he sought divine prophecy from is beyond our sight for now. The oracles have been clouded. That is a separate issue. Send him on a quest for all I care.”

 

“As for fate, Zeus Olympios, I had much more to do with that than anyone else. Ananke sends her regards.”

 

Her name echoes in stunned silence. Inevitability, now so far among the stars, has plucked a thread and bid it to weave.

 

“I bent fate as Necessity called to me. I know exactly the warp and weft of my intervention. You can rest assured that neither time nor fate will break for the lives I have spared. So why don’t we wait to figure out how to fix the oracles and actually address what we came here for.”

 

Annabeth places a hand on her shoulders. “We stand before you, having fulfilled the Great Prophecy. Let us first recognize these heroes for their courage and tenacity; they have carried the weight of destiny and shown exemplary skill in the face of countless threats.

 

Percy and Annabeth step back, letting the others come before the gods.

 

---

 

Hephaestus clears his throat. “Leo. I have never been the best with living organisms. But this I know. You have taken my gift of fire and used it in ways I never deemed possible. You have not only a great talent for the works, but a gift from my son in ancient times. There may be other gifts you would ask of me, but you may rest assured that everything I could find of him lies in wait for you in Bunker Nine. Remember, nothing is unfixable. And it can always be built better.”

 

Leo, with tears in his eyes, says, “I couldn’t ask for anything else. Thank you.”

 

Ares flickers to Mars, the leather jacket shifting to army fatigues and again to traditional armor. He says to Frank, “You did it, kid. Praetor of the legion. Big damn hero. You’ve already earned my blessing, and any title I could give you, so all I can tell you is that you’ve got a good long while with that firewood, ‘specially if I have anything to say about it. Your mom would be proud of you.”

 

Frank bows his head and steps back with a, “Thank you, Father.”

 

Aphrodite floats down to Piper. “My sweet Piper. I am so proud of you. You sang the Earth to sleep. I can think of no greater honor for a daughter of the seafoam. What would you ask of me?”

 

Piper takes a deep breath. “I would ask for clarity. I have been toyed with, time and time again, with regard to those that I love. I want the fog removed, so I can figure out what’s true and what’s false.”

 

Aphrodite smiles. “That I can do.” She puts a finger to her forehead, and Mist seeps from her eyes, her ears, her mouth. Piper opens her eyes and blinks. Aphrodite pulls her in for a brief hug, whispering, “We’ll talk later,” in her ear as she steps back up to the dais.

 

Artemis turns unexpectedly to Reyna. “Praetor. You have suffered much hardship, but indeed led Rome to glory. You have served for years, your leadership exemplary. You have served alongside my Huntresses, and defeated my greatest enemy. For your unquestionable bravery, I would have it known that you are eternally welcome within the Hunt, as my lieutenant vouches for you.”

 

“Lady Diana. I am in awe of your generosity. However, I bear my responsibility to the legion with pride, and cannot let it falter when I am there. I would ask for some time to consider your offer, but know that I hold the Hunt in the highest regard.” Reyna stands tall, a hint of longing in her eyes that is rapidly dashed away by conviction.

 

“Very well. Thalia awaits to speak with you, when your duties are fulfilled.”

 

Pluto, dark yet pallid, addresses his daughter. “Hazel. Sorceress adept, tamer of the new Labyrinth. For your deeds, I would have you know you shall not find your name on any of my lists until fate calls for you once more. Beyond this, know that misfortune is not a curse you bear alone. I would have control of it fall to your hands.”

 

As Pluto turns to Nico, the wealth of the world shifts into endless, writhing darkness. Hades says, “Nico. My ambassador. You have taken my word, my will, and used it judiciously time and time again. For your deeds, I would have you know that Maria di Angelo has ventured beyond her rest in Elysium, to seek rebirth.”

 

To both of his children, he says, “If you can spare the time, the Underworld is open for you to visit.”

 

Hazel pulls Nico into a side hug as they thank their father and step away.

 

The room cools as Zeus takes on the form of Jupiter, a phantom wind passing through the eaves. 

 

“Jason. My son. Named at Hera’s behest, you have distinguished yourself far beyond my expectations. You have led with integrity and strength, a true testament to your character. Ask of me a great boon, even the greatest of all, and I shall grant it.”

 

Jason swallows. “What’s going to happen to Hera?”

 

Jupiter squints down at him. “She is being punished for her meddling, in all of your lives, yours most of all, Jason. Someone must take the blame.”

 

“I just–-I don’t think it’s right that she’s being punished for the entirety of this conflict. Sure, she meddled in our lives, but Gaea did too, if not more so. Blaming the situation entirely on Hera is–-is unwise.”

 

Thunderclouds brew over Jupiter’s brow, the pressure in the chamber rapidly dropping. “You push the limits of my lenience, boy. I have already spared her harsher punishment.”

 

Jason composes himself even as the air remains charged, a warning against further disobedience. “I swore a vow to honor the minor gods. To honor all the gods. We are coming out of a war–-we can’t afford to stand apart right now. It only makes us weaker. I will build the temples, and give them the honors that they deserve. If it means these deities will stop having to turn to our enemies for recognition, I swear it on the River Styx.” He comes to a knee as he says these words, the aura of Loyalty flaring behind him.

 

Percy feels the rise of the river, the depth of the oath, and affirms it as she glares up at Jupiter.

 

Jupiter stands from his throne, and steps down to meet Jason. He puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Rise, Jason Grace, Pontifex Maximus of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. May your tenure bring glory and new life to all the gods.”

 

As Jason steps down, heart pounding with adrenaline, he feels the gaze of his father linger with an emotion he cannot parse.

 

---

 

Here is the thing about ascension.

 

Most gods are born gods, and thus never know the truth of ascension.

 

Being granted immortality is one thing. It is a gift that forever indebts the receiver, and often turns to misery given time. Even natural gods know this. 

 

Earned ascension means the rising deity has earned more than godly favor. They have built, beneath their power, the faith of their followers. They have endured the world and all its horrors to provide, to protect, to preserve. Beyond their own morals, they cannot be controlled by a gift of immortality.

 

Percy and Annabeth step forward once more.

 

“Athenide Sofía. Annabeth Chase. Commander of Demigods and Architect of Olympus. You join us through ascension, as the companion to Perse Pistós and upon the faith in your own deeds. My pride in you extends beyond measure,” Athena says. “You have earned every honor bestowed upon you and more. Ask of me any gift, and I would give it to you.”

 

“For the simple fact that I live, I cannot ask this great council for a great boon for myself. I would ask for the heroes who fought against the second Gigantomachy to be granted reprieve, to know some peace from the torment of monsters.”

 

“This can be granted as a matter of course. Ask, Athenide, of what you truly desire.”

 

"..."

 

“Then I wish for the founding of a city, a parallel to New Rome. I wish for a place where demigods may heal and learn, may share in knowledge and provide protection for those who seek it. I wish to build the greatest of temples, where heroes may seek true guidance. I wish to build a home for those of godly blood, for all of mythic origin.”

 

A hush settles over the room as the gods converse silently, Athena holding Zeus’ gaze.

 

“You’re brilliant, Wise Girl.” Percy presses a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek. “Building a city. Something permanent.”

 

“Like the Parthenon,” Annabeth whispers back. “I’m planning a big central square, with our fountain replicated there, like it never got to be back then. Apartments for the people moving out of Camp. A temple row with shrines. Automatons. An assembly hall. An open marketplace with displays for public art. A proper hall of prophecy so Rachel can get out of the cave sometime.”

 

“She mostly keeps it because she likes it, but I’m sure you could talk to her about it.”

 

“So mote it be.” The King of the Gods finally proclaims, breaking the reverie.

 

Athena smiles down upon her daughter, vibrant and proud. “Annabeth Chase, I name you once more Athenide Polias, patron and architect of New Athens. May your works leave a legacy to last millennia.”

 

With that, Annabeth takes a step back, giving Percy the floor. As she leaves the dais, her wings casually extend in front of the demigods in the room, a quiet protection from what yet may come to pass.

 

Before anyone can speak, Percy makes her opinion known.

 

“Call everyone here. Hera, the minor Council, everyone present on Olympus needs to hear this.”

 

The command in her voice is not to be ignored. Hera appears, delicate gold chains around her wrists, at the foot of Zeus’ throne. The doors slam open as the chamber crowds with every deity living on the mountain.

 

“I don’t want a boon. I don’t care what you were going to offer. Even a seat on the Council would not sway my opinion.”

 

The mounting pressure in the room zeroes in on where she stands before the hearth, central to the thrones.

 

“Last time I was here, you swore an oath on the River Styx." Percy begins to pace. “Let me remind you of the oaths you swore: to end the pact forbidding demigod children from the sons of Kronos, to give respect to the non-Olympian gods, and build them cabins where their children might sleep in dignity, and finally, to claim the demigods you sire by thirteen, or when they arrive at their camp.”

 

“The first was fine, just the dissolution of an oath that affected the children far more than their sires. The original oath was never broken by Hades, honorable to a fault, whose children stand before us, cast from out of time.” 

 

The gods look to Hades, who sits taller in his seat.

 

“My own father maintained his fidelity to his wife, but broke the oath on a technicality, as he himself bore the child of Sally Jackson and Amphitrite both.” Poseidon holds a smug grin as heads whip around to him. Percy ignores the money changing hands behind her, as Annabeth’s pockets fill with the result of ill-placed bets.

 

“Zeus broke his oath twice with Beryl Grace, and saw his children pass through endless suffering.” Jason watches his father avoid eye contact.

 

“The dissolution was necessary. The second oath was kept, as the minor Olympian Council was founded. New cabins accommodate the many campers who have come to join our ranks. I know too, of the growth of the legion at the end of the Titan War.”

 

“But you broke the last oath, and got around the consequences by allowing the circumstances of the war to overwhelm you, the instant I was sent to slumber by Hera. Do you know how I know that you’ve avoided the consequences? Seven demigods stand behind me, all of whom are powerful enough to rock the world at its roots. Three among them: Leo Valdez, Piper McLean, and Frank Zhang, all came to their respective camps after the age of thirteen, with minimal guidance. Leo was at least claimed upon arrival–-both Piper and Frank had to wait for the whim of their sires.” She glares up at Mars and Aphrodite, who shrink back.

 

“Yet you stand before me, unscathed.” She unsheathes Riptide and begins to walk around the hearth, to the base of the circle of thrones. “I wonder why that is.”

 

“Did you know that in Tartarus, there exists a junction of the five rivers? A confluence of hate, suffering, pain, oblivion, and of the fiery blood that restores only enough to experience the other four again. That is where I stayed, after I was torn asunder. It is known as the home of Misery, because it is where I left her bloated body, and where Misery came to me as my own.”

 

“I have lived an eternity there, apart from the weave. The only reason I stand before you as myself is my cleansing in oblivion. It is there that I came to know Ananke’s hand, that I faced Gaea in the throes of her power.” A silent tear traces down Annabeth’s face.

 

“Be glad I left Hope with the hearth. Be glad that my loved ones stand among you, that I care enough not to make dust of you, as I did Gaea.”

 

“First, you are all going to track down all of your kids. You will tell us where they are so that we can send satyr protectors to track them down and ensure their safety, whether at home or at camp.”

 

“Second, make your interventions measured. Enough with the random observers and the suspicious nannies. If you’re going to visit, do it properly. If you want to commission a quest, you determine whether it is actually necessary, and then make an appropriate request. We have lives to live.”

 

“Third, the arbitrary punishments for long-held offenses have to end. This is how you get Dionysus, fading away from lack of wine, and Calypso, using love magic on whoever gets shunted to Ogygia. It’s how you make enemies of people who would otherwise not be. Lift the restrictions, and make it such that punishments lead to recovery instead of resentment.” Dionysus, mouth agape, looks at the woman who raised him, his mother in all but name, as she ends the punishment that has plagued him since before her mortal birth.

 

“Swear this time upon my name. I do not wish for the catastrophic consequences of the Styx, but the accountability that so many of you lack. I hope, all these years after my fall, that you remember why my blade is called Anaklusmos.”

 

Anaklusmos, not the devastating flood but the insidious riptide. The marker of the threshold between betrayal and loyalty. The Bane of Oathbreakers.

 

Zeus Olympios beholds Perse Pistós manifest, with Athenide Polias at her side and the most powerful demigods of her generation at her beck and call. More yet show through faith, as the story of her birth spreads.

 

He raises his hand to swear, and the Council follows suit.

 

The Heroes of the Second Great Prophecy witness the creation of a sacred oath, made to counteract the influence of defunct Ancient Laws.

 

They watch them pledge it to Loyalty.

 

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Hera's punishment is not unlike Heracles', in that she can't reap worship or extend her hand beyond Olympus. While it is mercy compared to her previous punishments, it's much more than she received in the original book.
- Apollo is not facing mortality as a punishment here, because Octavian had very different motivations. I can't promise he won't be going on a quest of his own, though.
- Surprise! It's Ananke, saying hello.
- Jason ended up writing his own section there. Some of it is inspired by his later chapters in The Blood of Olympus. For being generally considered a bland white boy, he has a lot going on, and Rick does him a disservice.
- Quick explanation of the oath situation: Percy is making them swear their oaths through her to Styx, because she knows that the consequences, especially in recent years, fall on their kids. With this deal, Percy is the one who gets notified if they break their oaths, and thus confronts them. Combination parole officer/boogeyman. It takes a considerable amount of her godly power to routinely enforce—this makes it so her day to day power levels are more comparable to what Annabeth and other minor deities are working with. It gives her more of a sense of control.

Chapter 12: Epilogue

Summary:

Thus ends the tale of Perse Athenide.

Or perhaps it is better to say this tale of Perse Athenide.

Thus ends the tale of Perse Athenide.

 

Or perhaps it is better to say this tale of Perse Athenide.

 

In one world, Perse might have come to the fountain alone, her memories faint and only present through prophecy. In another, she might never have come at all.

 

But in this world, Perse Pistós is the name of Loyalty. Her legacy of care is shadowed by Misery, for Heroism never truly comes without it.

 

She is the true daughter of the seas, of Poseidon and Amphitrite, though Athena covets her with equal care to her own daughter. The modern world knows her mortal mother, Sally Jackson, to have had the most influence on her compassion.

 

Her sworn companion makes her own name even within the bounds of dream, the sands of time unable to separate them.

 

She is the champion of Styx, the wielder of Anaklusmos, the guardian of home, the mother of demigods, the maker of riptides, the righteous advocate, and the hand of Necessity in action.

 

Her emerald thread pulls back once again towards the stars, where Ananke rests with Chronos amongst the spinning cosmos.

 

---

 

As all stories end, they must begin again.

 

Let us see where our heroes have ended up.

 

---

 

JASON GRACE, the new Pontifex Maximus , takes to his duties with a passion he has not felt for years. His first course of action is to erect a shrine to Kymopoleia, and get action figures in production. Instead of mailing it to the bottom of the sea, he sends it with Percy.

 

His second course of action is to ensure that worship of Nerio Fides matches the true story of Perse Pistós. Percy later calls him, jokingly thanking him for getting her a divorce from Mars.

 

He visits Olympus to meet with the various gods for whom he makes shrines, and occasionally takes tea with his lapsed patron, Hera. For all that she has shaped his life, it is difficult for him to see her suffer. He tells of his works, and hopes she will see change.

 

---

 

PIPER MCLEAN, after finding clarity, realizes there was more than Hera’s manipulation guiding her attraction. Her break-up with Jason is amicable, and she enjoys spending time with both of her best friends without the pressure of a romantic relationship in the way.

 

She decides to go home for a time, citing a need for a break from everything. On her way, she runs into the Hunters of Artemis, who are chasing an elusive fox. She chats with Reyna, who has accompanied them on this hunt, and promises that her mother’s words are not the be all end all of love. Why else would so many deities of love exist? Why would maiden goddesses?

 

She meets a lovely mortal named Shel, and delights in her first foray into love by her own design.

 

---

 

LEO VALDEZ finds the pieces that remain of Festus gathered in Bunker Nine, and dedicates his time to rebuilding, bigger and better than ever. He toys with the Archimedes spheres, incorporating them into modern design and sharing them with his siblings at home.

 

He goes to Ogygia with Percy and Hazel at his side, and finds that his feelings are not quite the same as they were when he left. Calypso is freed from her prison with newfound mortality and a prescription for therapy from Psyche.

 

He enjoys spending his free time with friends, and grows even closer to Jason after his break-up, easing up on the ‘Roman Pope’ jokes after a while.

 

---

 

HAZEL LEVESQUE is elected centurion of the Fifth Cohort, and awarded leadership of the cavalry of the Twelfth Legion. When she isn’t leading the charge during the War Games, wielding magic and her sword, she goes back to school, and catches up on much of what she missed during the 20th Century.

 

Though Pluto has granted her control over her misfortune, she is still careful with the wealth that follows in her footsteps. It’s gratifying to know that both she and Frank have taken their curses in hand, and choose where their fates shall go.

 

She walks the Labyrinth over the course of years, mapping it out as she goes, and refamiliarizes herself with the Earth, as it no longer speaks with a goddess’ voice.

 

---

 

FRANK ZHANG, the newest praetor of New Rome, settles into his position with the skills he has earned over his quest. His adaptability makes him uniquely suited to addressing issues within the legion, and his confident humility a paradoxical match for the Senate.

 

Though most of his free time is spent with Hazel, he does take a trip back up to Canada to give his grandmother a proper funeral. He holds his firewood in its magic pouch as he follows the customs of his ancestors to perform her last rites.

 

When Reyna retires, he asks if she will stay, but wishes her well on her coming path.

 

---

 

REYNA AVILA RAMÍREZ-ARELLANO finishes her term as praetor, and resigns gracefully before she can be elected once again. The legion sends her off with honors, and enshrines her name among the heroes of the Prophecy, regardless of any patricide. She spends some time with Hylla and the Amazons as they rebuild their ranks in the wake of Orion.

 

This break from leadership, after years of turmoil and war, is a relief she does not yet know how to comprehend.

 

After much discussion with Thalia and her brief flirtation with Piper, she joins the Hunters of Artemis, and finds joy in the chase. She especially enjoys getting to know Bianca di Angelo through shared stories of her little brother.

 

---

 

NICO DI ANGELO recovers from his journey in the infirmary of Camp Half-Blood, often visited by a growing flock of older sisters. As he aids Percy in returning to her psychopomp duties, she teases him about his ‘little brother energy’, and he chases her out of the Underworld.

 

He makes fast friends with Will Solace and enjoys the sense of belonging at Camp, though he is called away on occasion to attend meetings as Hades’ ambassador. He joins Hazel in going back to school, as Sally Jackson finally coaxes him into it.

 

He is there to watch as a friendly Titan makes his way out of Tartarus to tell of the cycle beginning anew; of monsters of olden myth who find their way to slumber once more. 

 

---

 

GROVER UNDERWOOD, the Lord of the Wild, teases his friends about being the first among them to actually achieve godhood. Annabeth shoots back, saying she has lived centuries and Percy millennia, so Grover isn’t even the oldest of the three of them anymore.

 

Joking aside, he leads the effort of sending out satyrs as protectors for recently found demigods, though he refuses to take up the charge, citing all of the Big Three children he has found. According to him, any demigod he goes out in search of will end up being powerful and important, and he doesn’t want to condemn them to that.

 

He tells the Council of Cloven Elders that the Earth Mother has been defeated, and it falls to the nature spirits to steward the Wild and care for the Earth. His words pass through wind and root, marking a renewed commitment to the preservation of the planet.

 

---

 

ANNABETH CHASE, Athenide Polias, the architect and patron goddess of New Athens, has her hands full with the construction of her magnum opus. She takes everything two wars have taught her, all of the resentment and sadness that has lingered within her camp since Luke first betrayed her, and works toward making the haven they have always deserved.

 

Camp Half-Blood, the blessed Mt. Pelion that moves with the gods, will always be a place where heroes train. It still fulfills that legacy today. 

 

New Athens will be a place where heroes live.

 

She takes a trip up to Boston for her cousin’s funeral, and finds him crashing it. When she asks if he’s dead, he says it’s weirder than that. When he asks if she’s a Valkyrie, she says it’s weirder than that.

 

When not working full-force as an architect, she spends her time with Percy, delighting in the simple joys of having hands that can touch things and practicing flight with her new winged form.

 

---

 

PERSEPHONE ‘PERCY’ JACKSON, Perse Pistós , goes home to her mom’s apartment, where Sally Jackson looks at her and instantly knows her teenage daughter has grown up and then some.

 

“I missed you so much, Mom.” she says. “I’ve been gone for so long.”

 

“It’s alright, Percy. You came home to me.” Sally pulls her into a tight hug, carefully avoiding her pregnant belly.

 

Percy feels the start of happy tears as she steps past the threshold.

 

“Father and Mother took care of me. And Annabeth stayed with me the whole way.”

 

She tells her mother the story of thousands of years; her children, born and carried, her priestesses with gentle hands, her sailors tying knots in her name, her albatross along the way.

 

She speaks of endless war in countless days, the storms that battered forth and raged, and every being who sought to keep her caged.

 

As Sally holds her close, Percy finally weeps, free from torment.

They go together to Sally’s ultrasound appointments, and Percy sees the emblem of an albatross flying past a rainbow on the wall of the clinic.

 

Estelle makes her way into the world knowing love, knowing peace, knowing true happiness on her sister’s face.

Percy dives into the water where the East and Hudson Rivers meet, sinking among the murk. With a wave of her hand, the waters begin to clear in the area around her, a reminder of the promise she once made. She walks past sunken ships, glittering with the dust of monsters long dead, and gathers up the last of the souls that linger there.

 

She surfaces on Liberty Island and laughs as she sees the statue, a melding of herself and Athenide.

 

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, indeed.

The goddess Perse walks in many places.

 

One may find her dancing in the sea, weaving and warning of the riptides in turn. Her parents rejoice with a terrific feast in Atlantis in honor of her return.

 

One may find her carrying souls in her net, passing back and forth to the Underworld. Persephone laughs uproariously as she learns that the friend she has had for so long shares her name. As Perse passes by, the pit no longer seems so close, or so dark.

 

One may find her flitting between her camps, seeing her friends, extending her blessing over demigods old and new, listening and teaching as she has for many years. Every spar she has is a sight of awe for those lucky enough to witness them. Her sons, Asklepios and Dionysus, spend time there caring for demigods at her behest.

 

One may find her in her mom’s house, studying for her GED, and eventually going to college at NYU. Though academics have never been her forte, she graduates with a well-earned degree in social work. She puts it to work immediately, as demigods find their way to New Athens in need of home. 

 

One may find her on Olympus, negotiating the terms of quests and enforcing sworn oaths. For a while, she attends meetings with Apollo, squaring out every possible way to repair prophecy. Many heroes accompany Apollo on his travels—she deeply hopes he learns from the experience, much as any mortal hero can.

 

One may find her with Annabeth Athenide, traveling between the many places they call home.

 

In several years, the day is joyous when Loyalty marries the Architect, for one builds their house, and the other makes it home.

 

They pledge their companionship, their knowledge, their time manifest.

 

History will remember them in many different ways: as sworn sisters, as boon companions, as goddess and her symbol.

 

It does not matter, so long as they are together.

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- Posting this a little bit early because I’ll be busy tomorrow.
- This chapter officially marks the end of Percy's time loop.
- I did say to myself: gee, Perse, why do you get to have three moms?
- Nico does keep collecting older sisters in this. By my count, Bianca, Percy, Annabeth, Thalia, and Reyna all consider him a little brother. He was born four years after Hazel even though they are the same age biologically, so the sixth is pending.
- Grover gets a section because he was an integral part of the OG series and I resent the fact that he's minimized in HOO.
- A lot of this is tying up loose ends. I have not read all of Trials of Apollo, and I doubt I'm ever going to, so this addresses the points that I know about.
- While it's not mentioned in the first section, I wanted to nod to Percy's role as the a goddess of motherhood, specifically surrogacy, who champions those affected by struggles with fertility as well as sexual assault and domestic violence. She can manifest in any Planned Parenthood. I could not find a place to have her say Abort That Thang, which I will forever regret.
- The italicized quote comes from The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus.

Chapter 13: Bonus: Cult of ‘Perse’onality: Homeric Hymns to Perse Pistós

Summary:

Recently, archaeologists have discovered fragments of three Homeric Hymns to the goddess of Loyalty known as Perse.

Notes:

Surprise! I had a little more in me.

EDIT 6/4/25: I added another long hymn, hence the chapter update.

EDIT 6/19/25: The prequel has been posted!

XXXIV. To Perse

Muse, tell me of loyal Perse, the fountain-born daughter of vengeful Poseidon and moaning Amphitrite, the dark-haired and bright-eyed champion of Styx, who wears Pallas Athena’s blessing as a cloak, whose smile brings Olympus to its knees, the spinner of riptides who dances from the waves to the skies, whose holy bird the Athenide flies the world round, she who wields Anaklusmos in fields of battle and carries her net of the fallen to dark Hades, the mother of godlings and patron of heroes, the guardian to whom women and children pray for home.

 

Upon this day the deathless gods came forth to seek the worship of Attica, yet unbound. The first king of Attica, Cecrops, a son of the earth with the tail of a serpent and body of a man, served as impartial judge of the contest. Poseidon came first to Attica, and struck the earth with his mighty trident, and from his blow sprung the sea they call Erekhtheis. The people cried in awe of this feat, the clearest of waters rushing forth from the fountain. Alas, the king Cecrops tasted of the clear waters and found it not the sweet bounty of the earth, but the salty, fruitless sea brought to land.

 

After him came Athena, who wove from mere sticks the first olive tree, springing pale-green with berries on the boughs, which she gave as gift to the city. So said she: ‘This I name the olive tree; its fruits made ready to be eaten and formed into oil, its leaves suitable for laurels, its boughs strong and sturdy.’ Lo! The serpent king cried, for Athena was first to plant the olive. He named her patron of Attica and granted the city the honor of her name.

 

Poseidon looked on in anger, and darkened the skies above. As the Earth shook in his hold, a single bough of the olive tree fell freely into the waters of Erekhtheis. As the Stormbringer raged, divine light graced his rejected gift. For there stood a girl, her wild, dark hair shimmering as though with moonlight, her sea-eyed gaze sharp and wise, as she stood in the armor of a warrior, her sword in hand. She named Poseidon as her father, as the vengeful god sought to flood the plains. His anger quieted, he lifted the girl to his eyes and clad her in a verdant robe, with coral, pearls, and lapis lazuli hanging from her neck and ears, a net of golden sea silk lain over her hair. The people cried out in awe, for in this sea-born goddess they beheld a match to golden Aphrodite, to wise Athena, and regal Hera.

 

So said the Earthshaker: ‘Look upon the gift I would have given you and despair. A daughter of the sea would have blessed your shores, her beauty unparalleled. She is no mere nymph, but a patron goddess. Instead you took the paltry fruits of the owl-eyed one and rejected our blessings. From now on this city, this Athens, shall hold no favor with the seas.’ 

 

Alas! Athena held her spear in his path. So cried she: ‘She is no mere daughter of the sea. She wears the aegis of wisdom, and walks armored as I did, when I leapt from my father’s skull. I name this goddess Athenide, patron of Athens, born of the olive branch as it graced the waters, the lady of the sword.”

 

The goddess said: “I am Perse, daughter of Poseidon. I cannot be your daughter, O Virgin Athena, for you are chaste. Let Athenide be the name of my aegis, she who first armored me, who guides the path with wisdom, who will grace Athens with inspiration.’ Lo! The blessing took shape as that of a lost bird, the albatross, who crosses the seas and glides on the winds. From thence the goddess was known as Perse, and her symbol Athenide. The people crowded to see her face, the king himself asking for her hand in marriage.

 

But the wrath of Poseidon could not be averted, for Athens rejected his gift and yet sought the fruit of it. So said the horse-lord: ‘You seek to honor Athena and yet disrespect my daughter in the same breath. You shall find no mercy from me, no peaceful tides, no homeward winds. Build your temples all you like, for Perse Poseidonide and Athenide Polias now leave your shores.’ He took the word of Athenide, asking to be brought below the waves, and absconded to the fruitless sea. 

 

The winds carried the name of this new goddess across the lands, to the high mountain where wise Zeus reigns. The sun spoke of beauty in the image of the seas, armored in the aegis of wisdom. Angered, the Thundering King bid his daughter return to Olympus for breaking her vow of maidenhood.

 

So said he to solemn Athena: ‘Word tells of your broken vows, that you have sired a daughter in pursuit of a city. With Poseidon, who sires monsters and little else. I would have a reason, daughter, lest you invoke my anger further.’

 

Athena cried: ‘Nay, father! I have broken no vows; I am chaste and whole. The goddess Perse emerged a warrior as I did, born not of coupling but of the mingling of divine gifts, of my olive branch fallen to Erekhthius. I named her Athenide, yet she claimed it for her aegis, and Poseidon absconds with them both. Hark! For he guards her jealously beneath the seas, and would have her reject my blessing.’

 

This the wise Zeus pondered, for it was true that this goddess was his brother’s get, yet his daughter’s claim could bring her to surface. Thus he proclaimed: ‘Let it be that Perse Athenide must come from the seas to Olympus, half the year shared with the deathless gods and half spent beneath the waves.’

 

Thus Perse came to Olympus in loud procession, those creatures of the sea dancing before her to hear her laughter, her father’s horses carrying her proud and tall. Moaning Amphitrite walked at her side, her finest silks shared by her new daughter.

 

So said Poseidon before the deathless gods: ‘Hail Perse Palirroias Poseidonide! Daughter of the seas and weaver of riptides, patron of sailors and sea-travelers, she who carries luck on her wings and warning on the winds.’

 

The deathless gods wept to see her, clad in viridian and cerulean, a veil of gold over her dark hair. Rhea, mother to all gods, looked forth from her face. Golden Aphrodite herself lay stunned at her beauty. Sea-Lord Poseidon held her before him with pride, the greatest of his creations.

 

The King of the Skies, shrewd and clever, offered Perse many great gifts, of riches, of alliances, of power. Wise Athena laid her claim and offered the worship of households, and Glorious Hera offered Perse her greatest gift, that of marriage to her son Ares.

 

But lo! The riptide weaver refused them all. So said Perse: ‘No great gift shall bend my heart. I cannot take what is already kept in the heart of another. Know this, deathless gods of Olympus: I hold my vow to Athenide, my guardian, my love. I ask for her companionship in eternity; any who know this vow broken shall find no loyalty from thence, shall know no home where I will not find my vengeance. I swear so before the lady Styx, that I shall remain loyal for every eternity, that fate shall never tear us apart as we are.’

 

Thus was Perse Pistós born, the lady of loyalty, sworn to her boon companion and made the temptation of men and gods alike. She who sought neither glory nor riches, but the endless bounty of friendship and promise.

 

Hail, goddess, lady of loyalty and bane of oathbreakers! I began my tale with you, now I sing another hymn.

 

---

XXXV. To Perse and Athena

O Muse, sing to me of the trials for the hand of loyal Perse, of Pallas Athena’s trickery and skill, that she and her daughter would share in the ranks of hearts never bent by golden Aphrodite.

 

When first Perse came to Olympus, an oath of great importance was sworn, that she and Athenide might never be separated. As the Lady of Loyalty swore no oath to remain a maiden, temptation befell the gods, for each sought her hand in equal measure. 

 

Thus Warlike Athena brought Perse Athenide deep within the walls of her great temple, where she might sleep, and stood before the door, the sentinel for her daughters’ virtue. Nike stood by her side, winged Victory the herald of her efforts.

 

First came the cardinal winds, seeking to bind a sea-bride. The Wise Warrior struck each down with her mighty spear and bade them swear upon Styx never to pursue Perse, nor bind her to their will.

 

Next came the Messenger, swift-footed Hermes, the mischievous one, who thought to find Perse that he might know her face, and so the world. Athena Apatouria held him to a game of riddles, for trickery was shared among them, but victory was hers alone. As Hermes wailed, she bade him swear as did the winds. 

 

Next came the Blacksmith, the Lord of Fire, who shared in invention with bright Athena. To Athena he spoke: ‘Your vows I know tantamount, Athena Parthenos. For Perse, I would offer any gift of my hands for her smile that shines like daylight.’

 

To him Athena said: ‘If your words be true, then show for me your skill and bend a crown of a single piece of silver with only your hands, enough that it may bear her pearls and coral with pride. I too shall make of this, and the crown deemed most beautiful shall henceforth be worn upon her brow. For my victory, you shall swear as the Messenger and Winds have, never to capture nor bind Perse.’

 

Alas! For all his boundless skill, Hephaestus shattered many ores as Athena wove a crown of a single silver thread. Thus he swore never to bind Perse in marriage, and returned to his works upon Lemnos.

 

After the Blacksmith came the Warrior of Men, courageous Ares, who sought Perse’s hand as the spoil of combat. With his spear he struck at warlike Athena, causing a thunderous shaking to be heard. From this shaking awoke Perse herself, who walked forth in sleeping garb. She beheld this grand battle before the temple of Athena, and stepped between the clashing spears, holding them aloft with her own blade, drawn from aether.

 

So said Perse: ‘Peace, great Athena. I shall face these challenges in turn, as you have defended me, so shall I defend your honor and my virtue.’ She struck at Ares, quick and deft. She leapt into the air as he swung his mastered spear, and struck in his daze at seeing her bronzed thigh as she wore no armor.

 

As she held him to the ground, strong Ares laughed, for in War, Loyalty brings courage to the hearts of cowards, purpose to the indolent, and strength to the weak. To warlike Perse he said: ‘This I swear; I hold no designs upon your virtue nor your hand in marriage. All I ask is that my daughters, Amazons all, learn by your blade, that they will know true strength and loyalty.’ The goddess, surprised by his mirth, leapt up and bade him walk free, and watched as he took the reins of his chariot in hand, driving away and scattering the many gathered admirers.

 

Right then, the sun rose in glory, Phoebus Apollon presenting himself before Perse, the first to tell of her face and the next to try for her hand. He sang of her beauty in loud and trumpeting tone, waking the sleeping Athenide. For this, fair Athena sought to strike him with her spear, yet Perse quietened her hand.

 

To all she said: ‘I tire of battle and bloodshed. I would fall before Apollon’s great bow, just as he would before my blade. Let us measure as equals, in a race of our sacred birds across the great Aegean.’ For this Apollon rejoiced, as his sacred crow flew swift and true. His moon-pale sister, Artemis yet followed him to the shores where Athenide stood with Corvus in equal measure.

 

Alas! For every beat of swift Corvus’ wings, Athenide was swifter, and wiser yet, for she sailed among the winds and returned before the sun achieved its peak. As Corvus returned, weary and sun-darkened, Apollon wept. Benevolent Perse knelt before him, wiping his tears.

 

To Apollon she said: I shall never offer you my hand in marriage, but I would hold you as a dear friend, you and Artemis both. When the days grow long, shall I share in your hunts when I walk the earth, for those that call for my protection are shared by you both.

 

Chastened, glorious Apollon took the sun to its peak. Artemis, free of her silvered chariot, frolicked with Perse in maiden’s form, chasing the swift Athenide as she flew. 

 

When shadows fell in bountiful number and The Huntress at once returned to her silvered chariot, then came fair Persephone and dark Hades, for Perse walked their realm as psychopomp. Sea-eyed Perse came forth and embraced Persephone, for their shared travels and burdens. Hades swore his solemn oath, with eyes for none save his lady wife. 

 

Golden Aphrodite came next to the temple of warlike Athena, waiting for dark-haired Perse to retire. To Wise Athena’s clear-eyes, the lady of Passion took upon herself the beauty of the seas. To her Athena said: ‘I challenge you, Aphrodite of Beauty and Love, to show to me my most beautiful creation, and I yours. Whomsoever can declare their discovered creation most beautiful shall be the victor.’

 

In vain, Cypriot Aphrodite searched, for beautiful Perse lay resting within the temple, accompanied by her aunts Demeter and Hestia. At last her eyes fell upon the crown which Athena had woven for Perse’s brow, the shining silver clear enough to see her own visage within it. Transfixed, she stared upon her reflection in the woven silver for many hours before she brought the crown before Wisdom.

 

Alas! Shrewd Athena had merely snatched winged Eros from her side, and laughed at fair Aphrodite. To her she said: ‘You know nothing of my greatest creation. Golden Aphrodite, tell me in truth, are there any more beautiful to you than your beloved son, who inflames passions at your will and suffers no binds for it? Perhaps he should be made to walk at my side, taming passion for reason’s sake. Swear, Aphrodite, lest I do so.’

 

In her surprise, the lady of Love could only call the contest lost and swear away her pursuit, in order to have Eros returned to her side. To Zeus fair Aphrodite ran, as the many gods of Olympus wept to lose the hand of Perse. The thunderous king emerged from his great halls with glorious Hera at his side, venturing to the abode of his clever daughter.

 

In his path lay not his wise and warlike Athena, but dark and vengeful Poseidon. To the King and Queen he said: ‘My daughter of the riptides shall never fall to your hand, O King, nor face the wrath of glorious Hera. For I have held my vows to the Titan Okeanos and kept my lady wife Amphitrite, where Leuke faded and Metis resides within you. You had darest not seek her harm, and swear as all gods have done, never to seek her capture and rape. No child of hers shall be born to you, for her respect for marriage lies deep and true, and hers will not be forced, neither by person nor by circumstance.’

 

Thunderous Zeus brought storm and wind to his will. To Poseidon he said: ‘What threat is this, to my kingdom and realm? Were it not for prophetic will I would strike you down where you stand.’

 

Yet, Poseidon, the Trident-Wielder stood firm: ‘The heart of Loyalty walks between every realm, Sky-King Zeus. Swear in truth, you and my glorious sister both, that it shall not be bent to serve your whim in capture, lest my rage be unleashed upon the earth and all its denizens.’

 

And so the King and Queen of the Heavens swore upon Styx and her champion, that Perse would never fall in their capture, nor be pressed to marriage by their efforts.

 

To all beautiful Perse said: ‘Lo! All who have tried have failed to win my heart, for I hold her close by oath and more. Neither Golden Aphrodite nor her many bountiful children shall sway me, nor any who seek my capture. I take no oath of maidenhood, for my heart may yet still be won, my hand given to care. One cannot capture fleeting Loyalty, but earn her, strong and true. Any who violate this shall face my own rage and that of those who hold true loyalty.’ And so it was, that Perse could never be taken but only earned, as her priestesses too lay under her aegis. The mother of demigods took no hand besides that of her loving Athenide, and danced upon the seas, carrying her silvered net. 

 

Hail, goddesses! Inevitable as the tides, the loyal maidens of the household, to whom all maidens pray for loyalty in marriage, whose delicate hands cannot be captured by any. I sing to remember you, and another song also.

 

---

XXXVI. To Perse Kourotrophos

 

Muse, sing to me of Perse Kourotrophos, the Mother of Demigods, the Patron of Heroes, Guardian of Women and Keeper of Sanctuary, She who raises god-children, who makes her home on Mount Pelion, where great centaur Chiron trains heroes of myth, who honor her name above all.

 

Of two children do the myths speak: Dionysos the Insewn, bringer of madness and maker of wine, Asklepios the Healer, physician of the gods, father of the Asklepiades and patron of the healing arts.

 

Upon the birth of her first child, did God-King Zeus alight upon the lands of Nysa, the high mountain of clambering vine, which lay beyond the sight of Glorious Hera. From his mighty thigh he cut the dark-haired child of Semele, immortal in thought yet mortal in essence.

 

The rains of the Hyades fell to silence the cries of the newborn, given unto them with the protection of the Thunderer.

 

Alas! The caves of Nysa could not hide the Thunderous King from the sight of Athenide the Observer, sharp in her sight and shrewd in her judgement. When winged Athenide flew past, so too came loyal Perse. For indeed, God-King Zeus had broken his vows to his lady wife but kept them to Semele and in this became her undoing.

 

Loyal Perse entered the cave where the child whined, where wise Zeus lay bleeding, where the nymphs of rain soothed the child’s cries. Lo! Fair witness she bore to the birth of this child of Zeus. From the nymphs she took him, holding him to her breast. Thus the child quieted, his powerful lungs put to rest.

 

To Zeus she said: ‘Great King, whose child is this that weeps as though newly born, whose cries pricked the ear of my Athenide, who bleeds red as mortals do?’ 

 

To Perse he said: ‘Tis the child of fair Semele, daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia, who looked upon me at Hera’s command and perished in my glory. This, her child, I have sewn to my thigh that he might grow strong.’

 

Loyal Perse sang to the child of Semele who fed at her breast. To wise Zeus she said: ‘Wrathful Hera, who reigns as queen at your side, will not be bent from the destruction of this child. Once more have your sacred vows been proven false, Great King. At her command I must affirm the truth of this matter.’

 

Shrewd Zeus said to Loyal Perse: ‘If indeed Wrathful Hera demands the truth of you, speak only that Athenide witnessed me here, that Zeus has been found in Nysa. Thus shall the child be Dionysus, and kept by the aegis of his father.’

 

Perse held the loud child in sword-calloused hands, Athenide perching upon her shoulder to peer upon the child’s face. Thus said she to Zeus: ‘And shall Dionysus know neither father nor mother for fear of Wrathful Hera? Give him unto me, Great King, and I shall raise him at my knee, where he shall know your name as his father. Leave him not with the Hyades—they may follow to my house where nymphs dance in plenty. In far Nysa shall he be raised, and return to Olympus as a man. This I ask of you, King of the Skies, for the silence you beg of me.’

 

To this Wise Zeus could only assent, for fear of the sacred oaths of Perse, for the river across which she carried souls, for the vengeance of her riptides bent to oathbreakers. 

 

For many years did Loyal Perse carry Dionysus upon her hip, across many lands and peoples, from the high mountains to the shores of the sea. To hide from the watchful eyes of the Queen of the Heavens, she clothed Dionysus in the garb of a girl-child, and that of a boy-child when in play.

 

Thus grew the son of Zeus in faraway lands, from boy to man. He sought the blessing of Loyal Perse to travel, bearing his sacred vines weaved into dark curls and robes of purple hue. 

 

To him she said: ‘My child. You have grown enough at my hand; go forth and find that which shall define you.’

 

And so Dionysus merrily crossed the River of Indos, trailing his bacchanal and sharing in wine and ecstasy, a wreath of grapevines in his dark hair. He brought with him his Maenads, and found every place of revelry, of theater, of madness.

 

When at last he graced the shores of Loyal Perse, she bid him travel to Naxos to seek forsaken Ariadne, who would walk at his side as his lady wife, as he ascended to the heights of Olympus..

 

As the first child of Perse Kourotrophos married and established his household, soon came the next. The second of the children of Perse grew first beneath the heart of Coronis of Thessaly, daughter of Phlegyas, sired by Phoebus Apollon. Alas! Coronis lay bereft of Apollon, for he languished, building temples as a mortal in the court of King Laomedon. She lay with her lover Ischys as Apollon’s get quickened in her womb. Loyal Perse bore witness to this act as she rode upon the chariot of the Moon beside Youthful Artemis.

 

The Huntress Artemis, angered for the pride of her brother, took up her silver bow and struck Coronis and Ischys through the throat with arrows of moonlight. Perse, knowing Coronis as an oathbreaker, leapt from the chariot that she might carry her down to Hades herself.

 

Lo! Beneath the heaving chest of Coronis, the child of Apollo yet lived, not yet grown enough to survive. Loyal Perse, in her compassion, carved into the stomach of Coronis and bade the child grow in her own womb as Zeus had sewn Dionysus to his thigh, wishing to spare his innocent life as she spared the life of Dionysus.

 

For months the child thus grew beneath the heart of Merciful Perse. When her belly swelled, the goddess swam beneath the treacherous waves to her father’s home, where the growth of the child might be hidden from the world above.

 

When her labors began, Loyal Perse alighted upon the island of Delos, with Artemis and Amphitrite at her side. Watchful Athenide stood at her shoulder, ever vigilant. Alas! The child faced the heart of Perse and would not turn to greet the world. At the word of Athenide Sofía, did Artemis cut into the godly flesh of Perse and open her womb. The golden-haired child cried out, safely born by new means.

 

So cried Perse: ‘I hold in my arms Asklepios, named for the method by which he was cut from Coronis and myself. He shall be a great healer, to ease the suffering of mortal lives.’

 

Thus Perse, mother by body yet not blood, bore Asklepios, mortal son of Apollo. She took the child and herself to heal upon Mount Pelion, where her blessed heroes called home. Upon this mountain did Asklepios learn the healing arts from the great centaur Khiron, with the blessings of his godly father, Apollon. It is said that many traveled near and far to be healed by his hands, that even those fated for death would find respite and renewal.

 

Upon the desperate word of his aunt, the Huntress Artemis, who cut him from his mother’s belly, did Asklepios reach beyond the veil of death and renew Hippolytus, her hunter cursed by Aphrodite. Alas! Mighty Zeus struck him with wrathful lightning, for too many mortals lived again at his hand. For this Phoebus Apollon slew the Elder Kyklopes, who forged the weapon that struck down his son. Once more was the Sun banished to mortaldom, as Loyal Perse mourned her child. For a year and a day did Asklepios remain in the realm of Hades, only returning as an ascended god at the conclusion of his father’s penance.

 

Thus go the births of the children of Perse; for this the goddess is known as Mother of Demigods, who raises the god-children as her own, who grants fertility and family to those who have earned her blessing in truth, who keeps her home with compassion and loyalty. The works of her children spread far and wide. Dionysus of Wine and Madness and Asklepios the Healer honor her above all else, for she as their mother fed them from her breast and carried them upon her hip, teaching them the ways of life and living.

 

It is for this that many covet the hand of Loyal Perse; among this number is Heracles, the Son of Mighty Zeus, who sought to steal the goddess and faced her wrath.

 

So it came to be that Heracles ascended to the heavens after his death. A grand feast of all the gods took place upon great Mount Olympus. There did Heracles boast of his many labors as many gods cowered, for his innumerable strength to not be bent upon them. Glorious Hera, for whom he was named, saw the madness in his eyes and raucous laughter.

 

A grand hero though he was, his first slight against Loyal Perse came against her beloved son Asklepios, who himself ascended before Heracles. Fair Zeus admonished his son and granted Asklepios audience, wherein he became Healer of the Gods and retained his household.

 

Then, God-King Zeus turned to his heroic son, and said: ‘For your great deeds, I would offer you a great boon. Come forth and ask, my son, and your desire shall be granted.’

 

Lo! He wished for the hand of Loyal Perse, whom all gods were sworn never to pursue, for he called himself the greatest of godlings and heroes, only fit for the loyal Mother of Demigods.

 

So said Warlike Athena: ‘None can pursue Loyalty and take her to wife when she has sworn herself to Athenide.’ She brandished her spear in defense of Loyal Perse.

 

So said Vengeful Poseidon: ‘Swear never to seek the hand of my daughter, Heracles, lest I shatter you upon the rocks that fill the sea.’

 

Thus did Wise Zeus offer the hand of Youthful Hebe, for the many gods of Olympus would go to war for the hand of Loyal Perse.

 

Heracles swore his wedding vows in little faith, leaving Hebe bereft after consummating. To the sound of the wistful flute he wandered, to the abode of Athena where Loyal Perse lay sleeping. In her bedchambers did he bring down his mighty club upon Watchful Athenide, the object of Loyal Perse’s sacred oath.

 

Lo! Warlike Perse held the blow with her keen blade, knowing his oaths in vain. To the very edge of Olympus did they duel with a mighty shaking of the earth. Many gods gathered to see Loyal Perse about in her sleeping garb, as she once fought Ares upon the threshold of Athena’s abode.

 

Righteous Perse, whose strength was bolstered by the prayers of her children and students, struck Heracles with Anaklusmos, the Bane of Oathbreakers, for his many broken vows, and the deaths of her students beneath his hand, for the theft of glory and valor that followed in his wake.

 

Alas! Heracles fell from the heavens for dishonoring Loyalty in her home. Perse went then to Hebe, consoling her for his broken vows. Thus she tore away the chains which bound Hebe, and bid her rest within Perse’s home, where she might be protected.

 

For her deeds Perse could not be cast away, for Lawful Zeus heard of the dishonor of Hebe and all others beneath the hand of Heracles. So stood Loyal Perse before Olympus, true in her word. By her side was Knowing Athenide, whose wise counsel bent even the ear of Warlike Athena.

 

I sing of Perse Kourotrophos, the Mother of Godlings, Protector of Divine Youth and Righteous Defender, who raised her sons never born of her blood, whose sword strikes at evil with uncountable strength, who takes her due of oaths in kind, who makes her home by the hearth and beneath the seas. Goddess, I sing to remember your holy name.

---

XXXVII. To Perse Kidemónas

 

I begin to sing of Perse the guardian, 

fountain-born daughter of vengeful Poseidon 

The bane of oathbreakers, 

the guard of the homeland, 

the mother of godlings.  

In her name I swear my loyalty to my home

for it is she who guards the people during war. 

She walks with sword and shield 

as Pallas Athena wields her spear to glory. 

Hail, goddess! 

Bless us with good fortune that we may fight bravely,

honor your protection, and in time, return home.

Notes:

Quick Notes:

- I wrote these in the style of translated Homeric Hymns, because I do not know nearly enough Greek to properly write a hymn to the Athenide. While I did reference other writers, I thought it would be fitting, for how much her story revolves around the Iliad and Odyssey.
- The final hymn is the closest I could get to dactylic hexameter, and even then I ended up breaking the scansion so it would read better on the page. English has a lot of multisyllabic words and articles and prepositions that really don't do well with dactyls.
- The first is a retelling of the birth of Perse, seen once in chapter 4 and again in chapter 10 with Annabeth's retelling. The second covers the missing scenes of the challenges for Perse's hand. The third tells the story of how Perse became the Mother of Demigods.
- I slightly altered the bird race; instead of a foot race, the birds are flying across the ocean. I did compare average and top speeds of crows and albatrosses, and albatrosses had the edge, along with the ability to lock their winds and glide on air currents, which is what Athenide used to win the race.
- About her priestesses: they were not sworn virgins, as oftentimes women who had been violated found sanctuary in her worship. Instead, Perse stood as guardian for their marriages if they so chose them, as she did for Danaë. I imagine this would have led many young women to go to her temple, including perhaps a young Sappho.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! A special thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos—it spurred me to add more to this story.

Behind the Scenes:

- Each chapter is in an increment of 1000 words, ranging between 1000-5000. the ratio goes: 1-3-3-2-2-2-3-3-1-4-4-2-5, because I originally intended to end at 9 chapters, and ended up with more to say.
- I started writing this on May 4th, and finished writing the final chapter on June 4th. As I’ve said in the comments, I’ve been on an Athenide bender for a month. This is the fastest I’ve ever written anything. I feel insane.
- All credit for the formatting goes to the many, many HTML tutorials available on Ao3. There are a lot of fun shortcuts out there, if you’re willing to look.
- All praise to Theoi.com. I don't know what the PJO fandom would do without it.

Snippets that never made it to the page but deserve to be known:

- When Poseidon and Amphitrite met Sally, they really were not intending on producing a demigod child. There is a smutty one-shot of this brewing in the back of my mind that I don’t think I could ever do justice. Safe to say, they really love their daughter and are extremely protective of her, though she likes to assert her independence.
- I make a point of emphasizing her resemblance to Pallas and Rhea. This is because she does share some features, but also a side effect of taking on the domain of Misery is that she vaguely resembles the people that the observers most grieve. These particular comparisons come up often because Poseidon carried her seahorse style.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of of Perse + Athenide