Chapter Text
Percy gets up with the dawn. It’s a late dawn, given it’s the last week of January, but he gets up with it all the same. He gets upright and fully conscious, and then heads straight to the living room. The living room’s wall of windows is a pain to clean, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning against them. The high-rise apartment overlooks Central Park, with a portion of mount Olympus visible at the very edge of the windows.
Percy’s watching the sunrise, though. How it’s painting the sky with vivid colors, lighting the clouds in gold, burning through the low morning fog with ease. He sighs from the sight. He also wonders.
Apollo is mortal right now, sulking in camp. He’s bound to a demigod to serve out a punishment, with no access to his godly abilities. So, who’s raising the sun? Was it Apollo who decided who’d take over his duties? Hera or Zeus?
Well, the sun has been rising as normal, so things are probably being taken care of. Not his problem, anyways. The sun becomes too bright to look at, the sky fading back towards blues. Show’s over, so Percy turns from the sunny view and to the view paid for by the sun god.
Percy might have a magically endless credit card now, but it still makes him a tad nervous to glance around the rich apartment and know it’s in his name. Annabeth’s, Piper’s, and Jason’s as well, thankfully. Percy has no idea what he’d do if it had been Apollo’s gift to him alone. Well, he’d probably have fulfilled the bribe Apollo meant it to be, as painful as sucking up to Zeus would have been.
Though, Percy’s not entirely sure if Percy bragging about how nice Apollo’s been would help Apollo cool Zeus’s temper.
Again, not his problem. They might not have said it in so many words, but Percy feels he and Zeus have come to some sort of understanding about each other. An understanding about Percy being retired from solving godly problems, that is.
The apartment’s too quiet, even for the dawn. Piper’s out west checking on her struggling father, coming back who knows when. Jason, who’s usually up at this time, is currently at Camp Jupiter. He’s supervising a couple different things, from a potential lead on Triumvirate Holdings, to Frank's training to be Praetor, to the initial stages of constructing Kymopoleia's promised new temple. He’s likely to be gone for longer than Piper, and Percy’s already missing who became a good friend.
He wanders away from the windows, thinking over food to make. On the coffee table he passes is a set of abandoned architectural plans. Annabeth’s always talking about how her job as architect is going, and the scattering of papers is one of many about the house. Held by magnets to the fridge, thumbtacked on the wall hall, dominating the flat surfaces of the apartment's library.
Percy glances at a bar of dark chocolate sitting lonely on the counter. Annabeth will be up soon, and he wants breakfast hot and ready for her when she is. He thinks a lot about her, as he cooks. She's still stuck in the sleepless nights, the nausea, the general misery Percy definitely doesn't miss. He wonders over her lingering bad breath, if she needs to visit a dentist; check for something really amiss. He purposefully avoids thinking about the other, stranger things she’s done. It’s likely sleep deprivation at the wheel, that’s making her struggle with eye contact and memory.
Instead, he thinks over the argument they'd had last night. The lingering anger over the things she said is overcome by sorrow. Percy stares at the pancakes sizzling softly in the pan. From the little she's said, Athena and Dad couldn't be more different, parenting-wise. Dad had pulled Percy out of the rut he had been rotting in after the war ended, and life is going much better with his father stepping up. Where Dad has stepped up, it seems Athena is leaving Annabeth out in the cold.
He checks on the bacon in the oven. He needs to make sure they talk about her health, today.
It’s a resolution put to the test only minutes later. He’s topping Annabeth’s oatmeal with cinnamon, a bit of sugar, and strawberries when she walks in. She’s all bedhead and soft pajamas today. They share a long hug, then she pulls herself to sit cross-legged on the island.
“Good morning,” he says warmly.
“Morning.”
“Bacon needs a couple more minutes, but the pancakes and hashbrowns are ready, as well as your oatmeal.”
“Hm.” She glances at the oatmeal, then back at him. “You talked about poisoning the water while you were training down in Atlantis, yesterday. Have you ever accidentally poisoned anyone?” She speaks calmly, but with a tightness around her eyes which tells him she’s dreading his answer.
“Nearly myself, once. That’s all.” He says quietly. She nods. Doesn't touch the glass of fruit juice he sets by her knee. Doesn't look any happier about the topic of conversation. Which she brought up first thing.
Patience, Percy, he thinks to himself.
They spend the next quarter hour speaking in this manner. Percy cooks their breakfasts, and she asks him for details about his poison wielding. Both acting calmer then they are. She hears him more, this morning. He goes over the same metaphors and information as last night, and she actually seems to absorb it this time.
It’s the main reason he lets the topic remain on him, instead of pivoting to her health.
Annabeth also absorbs the apology he gives this morning as well. Still doesn't accept it, but she doesn't act as though it never left his mouth like she had last night. Eventually, she asks if he intends to use his poison anytime he wants now, since he's been trained and has broken his promise to her.
"Not really, no." Percy says. He extends a hand to help her off the countertop and carries both their plates to the bar. "I might not hate it anymore, but it's not fun to use. Not like talking to fish and stuff."
"You have no ideas or plans?" She presses. Percy frowns at her.
"No?" He tips his head to the side. "I mean, the only thought I've had is to go to the Apollo cabin and check if there's some way I could help with, I don't know, producing antidotes for mythical poisons or something."
She tips her head to stare at the ceiling for a long, deep breath. Percy drops his fork.
“What?” He says, instantly irritated.
“Are you kidding? So you are going to keep ignoring my-“
“Wise girl!” He snaps. “Stop it! That’s not what I was saying.”
“Isn’t it?” She mutters.
"No!"
"Because it really seems like-"
"Can you quit being so childish about this?" She gapes at him. Percy thins his lips and doesn't take it back.
"I know you're upset with me," he says lowly, before she picks her jaw up. "But it really feels like you have no faith in me anymore, from one bad decision I've told you I know was wrong."
She thins her lips right back at him. "We just talked about how you repeatedly broke a promise to me last night."
"Which I apologized for!" Percy repeats. "It was one promise, and I’m certainly not going to do it again."
"What's the antidote thing, then, if not using your poison powers?" Annabeth says pointedly.
"It was a thought I was toying with. One I wasn’t intending to act on. Are you doing this on purpose? Because this doesn’t feel like the Annabeth I know and love, right now.”
She slams her fork down on the counter and shoves her breakfast away. “Not intending to act on it? That’s not good enough.”
“Annabeth, are you doing this on purpose?”
She scoffs at him. Then she pulls a move he never expected her to. She grabs his plate and flips it over onto the counter, smearing his breakfast everywhere.
“Annabeth!”
“Have faith in you!” She shouts. “How can I have faith in you when you don’t seem to care about breaking things?”
Percy stares at her from where he’d taken a few steps back, heart in his throat. She stares at him, tears in her eyes, misery in every line of her body. After a moment of looking him in the eye, she looks away towards the wall.
“Why’d you have to go and ruin things?” She asks. Percy can’t tell if she’s accusing him or herself.
“What’s going to be enough?” Percy asks. “I don’t want things to keep on like this forever. I want to fix things.”
"You shouldn't have broken things in the first place!" She yells.
Percy throws up his hands. "So, what? That's just it? It doesn't matter that I want to try and fix things? It doesn't matter that I apologized and that I'm going to be honest with you from here on out?"
She scowls off to the side, and Percy seethes at the lack of response. "Annabeth, please." He doesn't care about how he sounds pleading. It's better than continuing to shout.
She continues to stare into the middle distance, avoiding his eyes even when Percy walks to place himself front and center to where she's looking. He repeats her name another few times before she finally looks at him again.
"I don't think there's much more to talk about, if you're not going to be reasonable," she says miserably. Percy stares in complete disbelief.
"Me? I'm the one being unreasonable?" He says. She stares at him, every inch of her shaking. Percy grits his teeth. It feels like every corner of his chest is filled with a shivering, angry scream. He doesn't understand why she's being like this, why she's being both so stubborn and acting like he's the one hurting her by trying to fix things.
He's stricken with a moment of not recognizing the woman in front of him, like he's standing in front of a stranger instead of the girl he wants to marry.
"Why this?" He asks. "After everything we've been through in the last half-decade. Why is it this that's..."
She gives him a disappointed look. He suddenly can't stand this anymore, temper boiling under his skin, warring with hurt.
“Message received. You don’t want me near you. Fine. I’m going to step out for a while.” His anger and hurt flatten his tone instead of sharpening it. “And when you feel like having a rational conversation, we can talk then.”
He can’t do this. He’s not going to cry in front of her.
She doesn't follow or protest this time, as he heads for the door. No, what she does is call after him. "I'll be on Olympus the rest of the day, take your gods-damned time!"
He slams the front door behind him. He doesn’t care how it shakes the frame. He does care how much this morning mirrors last night. But what else is he supposed to do? He’s not going to be one of those assholes who screams at their girlfriend.
♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦
Soho is about an hour’s walk from the apartment. It takes Percy less than forty-five minutes to get to the art gallery he’s looking for. The tourist-y neighborhood has people from all over already crawling over it. He’s still one of the first visitors inside after opening, and he’s the only one in the hall he’s looking for.
Percy stands and stares at the statue of four befuddled and frightened men staring at something unseen. He glances over Gabe's old poker buddies, stares and stares at his old stepfather's face, and wonders why in the world his feet brought him here. Why he can't make himself turn and leave.
"Been a while," he mutters to the statue. "Not long enough, really."
"Did you know them before they were petrified?"
Percy twitches at the voice - he'd not heard anyone walk up. He turns, a casually friendly expression on his face, and startles further. "Uncle Zeus," he blurts.
Zeus strolls another couple steps forwards, stopping to examine 'The Poker Player’. He's dressed in a business suit like Percy's more used to seeing him in, but the style is subtly different. It's a solid navy blue, with a storm grey tie. Percy looks a bit closer when a brighter color catches the light and sees the tiniest lightning bolts embroidered onto the length. Zeus's long hair is tied up in a messy bun, and his beard is perfectly, tamely coiled.
Zeus looks from the statue to him, and Percy remembers he asked a question.
"It- well, I did, yes." He shoves his hands in his pockets, half a mind on his explanation as he thinks over why Zeus could be here, what he might want. "He was my mom's first husband; the rest are the men he gambled with a lot."
Zeus watches him with a hint of humor. "Peace. There is nothing pressing to my visit." When Percy continues to side-eye him, the humor grows. "Am I not allowed to be an uncle and visit my family?"
Percy deflates with a small sigh. He has no real reason to ask Zeus to leave. "Sure you are. But gods always want something."
"An accurate assessment," he says. "If you have nothing more urgent, then we ought finalize several details regarding your rewards."
Percy frowns. "There's more?"
"I did say so, when I gave you your privacy in my temple."
Percy throws one last look at Gabe before he fully turns away. "I don't have much to do today."
Zeus watches him do so, and Percy knows he's come to the wrong conclusion when he says, "My condolences on the loss of your mortal father, child."
He barks a bitter laugh in response. They fall into step towards the entrance. "None needed. He was a filthy, awful person to live with. His death was good riddance. I'm perfectly fine with his being in the Fields of Punishment instead of bothering me and my mom."
"Was it you who used Medusa's head to petrify him?" There's real curiosity in Zeus's voice.
"Nah, I gifted Medusa's head to my mom. I mentioned going back to my apartment to check on her directly after my first quest."
"So you did," Zeus says with a chuckle. It's a bright, echoing thing that turns half a dozen heads, and draws a reflexive smile from Percy for a moment. "Glad to see the family tradition carried along."
Oh, Percy knows where this is going. He asks anyways. "Family tradition?"
"Good riddance to terrible fathers," Zeus jokes. "It is early for a meal, but I've received several recommendations from Hermes for quality mortal food in this city. Come with?"
"Sure," Percy says. He'd not eaten his full breakfast earlier, and it'll be easier to 'finalize details' at a table anyways.
They step out of the art gallery's door, and straight into the foyer of a fancy restaurant. Percy has a few moments of worrying over the price, before he remembers the new credit card in his pocket.
It's actually less fancy than Percy would have assumed, for the king of the gods. There's chandeliers, waiters in tuxedos, decor carefully refined to put its best foot forwards, and the back foot still in a wingtip. But after a minute or two of taking in details; red tile on the ceiling, red carpet, tables covered in perfectly white tablecloths, silverware polished to a shine; Percy can see where they could have gilded things further and have chosen not to.
The atmosphere is edged back from ballroom-black-tie-event by the photos on the walls. They're crammed tightly, nearly layered on top of each other, of a hundred different things from a hundred different times. There's fancy paintings as well, but stretches of the walls are nearly impossible to see.
The people around them are dressed nicely, and Percy feels keenly out of place as they're seated, surrounded by celebrities and politicians of all breeds.
"Welcome to Bamonte's," their perfectly dressed waitress says. She gets them settled with drinks, and they finally turn back to each other.
"Bamonte's," Percy says. "Not sure I'd ever get to eat here."
Zeus hums without looking at Percy. He's stirring the simple water he'd ordered with his pinky finger instead of drinking it. They strike up simple conversation for while, browsing the menus. The Italian food all looks and smells amazing, and Percy has a hard time deciding which to pick by the time their waitress returns.
Zeus doesn't order, waving off her questions until she accepts the menus and leaves to put in their orders. Is it because he doesn't like mortal food in general? Or because Zeus believes mortal food to be beneath him? No matter. They're alone until their food comes, and Zeus takes advantage of it to begin.
"First things first," he says. "We covered most of what you need to know last we spoke. Have you questions on those?"
"No," Percy says with a shrug. "Seems pretty clear to me."
"Good. Next, then, are the non-interference laws."
Percy watches him steadily. Dad had told him he was allowed in Atlantis because of his poison wielding, no law breaking here. "What of them?"
"Lifted," Zeus says. "Been lifted for you for a while."
"Since when?" Percy asks. "I don't remember hearing anything about that."
"Your father didn't tell you?" Zeus looks mildly surprised. "I was intending to lift them for you as reward, but upon checking the records of what I've decreed over the past few years, I found they already had been last August."
Percy blinks. "Was it part of rewarding the Seven?"
"No. Just you, one of Athena's daughters, and Hades' boy."
"Nico?" Percy thinks over Athena's current roster of girls. There's only one he can think of who'd done anything to warrant such a change. "And Annabeth? Why?"
"Indeed. Now, I know you've been visiting your father to train that poison of yours, which is within allowed exceptions. You may feel free to visit with others, on and off the mountain, as you please. No more clandestine conversations or cut-short encounters."
Percy frowns. It's good to know what that means for him, but it didn’t answer the why. "Okay. But why were they lifted?"
"A question better asked to whoever recorded the meeting's events," Zeus says. Percy lets it go for the annoyed look he'd donned.
Percy's food arrives, and his stomach growls at the smell. The first bite alone is worth however much this place costs. Bamonte's is an Italian restaurant with a long and rich history here in New York. It's been open for more than a century, more than a third of the time New York City's been named New York City.
"Speaking of your past decrees," Percy says casually. "I'm curious about something." Zeus gestures for him to speak. "You cast Apollo down when you were sick. Are you going to change course now?"
Zeus shakes his head. "I stand by my own decision."
"...Why?"
"Oh, for different reasons than before, Percy. I’d likely not chosen such an inopportune time either – given the Triumvirate's ambitions and Python's return." Zeus smiles at Percy's confusion. "Apollo's been neglecting things for nearly as long as I had been, child."
Percy frowns. "I don't get it."
Zeus leans back, and his tone falls into a semi-lecture. "Apollo has been titled my heir for more than a few millennia now. I know, given your frequent visits to your father, that you've likely witnessed your father relying upon his own heir."
Percy nods. "Triton took over more than a couple of Dad's duties while we were all busy with you."
Zeus spreads his hands. "Our heirs may fade before we do, we know that. But the reason your father and I have chosen heirs, is because our kingdoms can not, and must not go without leadership for even a brief period of time."
The garlic bread is sinfully delicious, and Percy simply nods at Zeus to continue so he doesn't have to pause eating it. Zeus glances at the plate of bread but doesn't take any.
"As my heir, it is Apollo's job to notice and rectify the change in my behavior. To investigate, and to step up where I wasn't."
"And you said he's been slacking," Percy finishes.
"Precisely. His duties as heir were not the only duties he has neglected. Tell me, what do you know my son to be the god of?"
"Um, the sun? Poetry, art, healing, music..." Percy pauses to think of more.
Zeus beats him to it. "Which are flourishing, no doubt. But what of city-planning?"
Percy unintentionally cuts him off. "But I thought Athena was the goddess of architecture?"
"Hephaestus is the god of architecture. Athena is the protector of cities. Apollo is the city-planner. The city founder."
"I had no idea," Percy says quietly. He wracks his brain for times he's heard mention of it, but he comes up blank.
"And therein lies one of the issues with which I am displeased," Zeus says. "I did not spend the days where we discussed your deeds only speaking with you. I spent much of that time investigating this new country my council and I now call home, and I am rather disappointed."
Percy sets his fork down. "Disappointed how?"
"Apollo is the city planner. There are swathes of communities who live in food deserts, or who are trapped by the car-dependent nature of most cities here. Education is painfully poor in some places, and excruciatingly inconsistent across the board. A truth you have firsthand experience with, given the differences setting you apart from mortals. Truth and reason have been sidelined for misinformation and baseless conspiracy. Apollo is the patron of law and civilization, the protector of children, and there are more than a few places in this country where those have gone unattended."
Zeus snorts, disappointed disgust coloring his expression for a beat. "Apollo has never needed my allyship to attend to the duties he has towards law. Even if he did need my assistance in his aspect of justice, Themis or her children would have sufficed."
Percy thinks over this for a minute. "I didn't think you prioritized mortals enough for issues like that to warrant making him mortal," he says carefully. "I mean, it's only happened twice before."
"It's a risk he chose when he accepted the title of heir," Zeus says. It sounds cold to Percy's ear at first, but then Percy remembers scolding Apollo in the car. Pointing out ways Apollo could have taken care of Python and just... didn't. His defense of the god dies on his tongue. Zeus isn’t punishing him for neglecting mortals. He’s punishing Apollo because Apollo can’t be lazy and Zeus’s heir at the same time.
"You said he's been neglecting things nearly as long as you."
"By which I meant he likely knew I wasn't observing him as closely and immediately decided to 'play hooky', as you young things would say."
Percy shudders. "I hate that you know current slang."
Zeus's disappointed scowl breaks into a smile. Percy notes it has the same slightly lop-sided pull as Jason's playful smiles does. "What? I'm not allowed to be hip with the times?"
Percy glares, Zeus grows more amused. Percy goes to ask him to stop, then remembers his advice to Piper a while ago. Reacting is catnip, and the sooner Zeus stops finding this game fun, the sooner it'll be over.
"So, how's this change his punishment?' Percy asks instead of complaining.
Zeus shrugs. "I'll allow him bits and pieces of his godhood once he stops dragging his feet, gets to solving his own problems. I need to be able to trust him to do his job without micromanagement, and without either fear of punishment or desire for reward."
Zeus sighs and pushes his still-full glass of water further away. "He'll get there, and I expect he'll be the heir I need in another thousand years at the latest. Honestly, sometimes I'm saddened Hermes rejected the title. I can't recall the last time he neglected his domains for more than a couple years here and there." He pauses, then, a bit more worried, "In truth, he's rather too busy."
Percy nods quietly. "He put on a good face at the party, but I could tell he was thinking about work pretty much the entire time."
They're interrupted by their waitress, who refills Percy's drink and asks again if she can't get Zeus anything. Percy can't damn up his curiosity on so many fronts at once, and so asks him another question.
"What's up with that? I mean, we came her because Hermes recommended the restaurant, and you haven't even touched your water."
Zeus smiles wryly. "I broke more than one Stygian Oath over the past two hundred years, Percy."
"Oh!" Percy blurts. "So you're-"
"Serving punishment, yes. As King, I am spared the isolation from others to perform my duties, but that only lengthens the time I must abstain from eating and drinking."
"How does this affect your health?" Percy asks curiously.
"It's unpleasant now and will be increasingly so as the years pass. I can avoid loss of power or health by leaning into tending my domains. There is no need for concern over my health."
"Huh." Percy looks down at his nearly empty plate, thinking back to when he couldn't stomach food last fall. Unpleasant isn't the word he'd use, but it would have sucked less if Percy had been confident about not dying from starvation.
"In any case," Zeus says, pulling him out of thoughts asking to spiral, "I'm certain Apollo will finish with things within the year."
"What if he gets killed as a mortal?" Percy asks, looking up from his plate.
Zeus shrugs a shoulder. "I have a list of heroes, both Greek and Roman, who I can and will send to his aid should he need any."
"Am I on that list?" Percy asks. He knows he's not, and he's glad when his uncle hears it as the joke it is and responds with a laugh.
"Only if you volunteer," he says rather warmly. "I've considered asking Jason, given his familiarity with the subject of those strange Emperors. But I do not think it would end well."
"Why not?" Percy asks. He realizes, after he says it, just how much of this conversation has been bugging Zeus with questions. Zeus seems unbothered, though, answering yet again.
"Oh, simply a premonition of mine." He sees the next question on Percy's tongue and answers pre-emptively. "Poseidon and I shared the domain of prophecy before Apollo was born. We passed it along to him once he came around, but it left the two of us with slivers of future-sight. Regardless of where that premonition came from, though, it would be a shame to lose one of our most prominent heroes so soon after his great victory."
Percy feels himself pale a shade at the notion of Jason's death. He makes a note to himself, as Zeus changes the subject to something unimportant, to keep up with whether Jason intends to help Apollo directly, and to ask Jason how much danger Austin and Mark are in, at that all-boys school.
For now, though, Percy orders off the dessert menu and listens to Zeus. It's a nice change from Zeus listening to Percy yap and yap, and the stories Zeus chooses to tell are funny.
Percy had never forgotten Zeus was the king, up on Olympus. Not even when he was red in the face from yelling. But here, it's a lot easier to think of him as just Percy's uncle. A lot easier to forget feeling out of place surrounded by rich people in a fancy restaurant, with his head thrown back in unabashed laughter.
♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦♆♦
Percy doesn't see Annabeth the rest of the day. She answers his texts enough for him to know she's alive, but he does his schoolwork in the library alone, eats dinner alone, and goes to bed alone.
It’s fine. They probably needed the day away from each other anyways. Percy pointedly doesn’t think about how strange it is, them needing time away from each other.
He has a demigod dream that night. He dreams of the same old cave as last time, and the same old satyr god. The entrance to the cave isn't sealed off by plants this time, and evening sunlight warms the places it touches. There's a stew over the fire. The medicine station is a mess with various half completed tasks.
The old god is seated on a low stool near the second room in the cave. It's still sealed off, still radiating power that makes Percy twitch away, still makes his dream eyes sting to look at for more than a second. The old god is staring at it with a furrowed brow. He has a cane now, hands folded on top of it, and chin resting on his hands. He doesn't acknowledge Percy this time. Whether it's because he doesn't want to, or he can't see Percy this time is unclear.
The dream holds there for a minute, letting Percy soak in the relative quiet. Lets him wander around and examine various things. He hears something outside of the cave, approaching. He moves to check what it is, but is pinned in place by the old god’s gaze. One of his eyes has gone a milky white.
“I wondered when you would return, Jackson.” He speaks slowly, a tired rasp in his voice. “The decision is far off yet.”
“Decision?” Percy asks, wondering if this strange communication is two-way.
The old god smiles at him, gentle. “I know much of what will be. Trust me when I say it is something you may let rest in the back of your mind for a long time yet. You will know enough when it happens.”
Percy still hates the perfect English in a dream before its time. He settles into the same back corner as before, a bit disgruntled by the old god’s answer. The sound he'd heard approaches, footsteps, and a large shadow darkens the door soon after. They duck in, and Percy stiffens with both offense and wariness.
Atlas doesn't look any less cruel or arrogant in his youth. There's a lack of exhaustion - probably because he hasn't been trapped under the sky yet - but he's much the same otherwise. He enters without asking, and immediately moves to tower over the old god, scowling with irritation.
"Why is it you sit here alone?" Atlas follows it with what must be the old god's name, but the world twists. Percy's ears ring, and he doesn't remember hearing it a moment later, only that he did.
The old god sighs. "Atlas. I'm sure you have better thing to do than to bother an old fellow like me."
"Of course I do," Atlas snaps. "War is on the horizon, and we need all hands-on deck to mobilize forces and supply lines."
"Do you?" It's so flatly unimpressed it makes Percy laugh. "And what, pray tell, would you need me for?"
"You're a god of wilderness, of crops and herds. If we're going to win this war than we need to be sure our supply of nectar and ambrosia is protected."
"Nectar and ambrosia?" The old god tastes the words like he's never heard them before. Atlas stares, first at his face, then at the flask of nectar on the god's hip.
His expression sours, violence entering his eyes. "So you're intending to turn against the king, then? Join those upstart little brats? I came because I believed you simply struggling to hobble back to the palace given your age. But you simply ignored summons, didn't you?"
The old god shakes his head. "I will not raise weapon for or against either side, Atlas. It is not my war to fight, not my war to win."
Atlas snorts. "You think I don't know you hosted one of them? The boy toying with the powers of the sky."
"Oh, please. A single civil meeting is hardly evidence of favor either way. I never even learned the boy's name that day." The old god visibly delights in the growing anger on Atlas's face.
"You will not aid the king. So be it. What of the weapon in here? You think I'm going to let it be claimed for their side? It would be wasteful for either side to let you sit on it unused." With this, Atlas finally leaves the old god's personal space. He reaches for the barrier sealing off the unknown power.
"Weapon..." The old god says, watching with mild irritation as Atlas is thrown by the barrier. He lands and rolls, a flailing arm catching on the edge of the stew over the fire. It dumps the whole pot on his head and shoulders, and he rises with an angry roar.
He screams the god's name again, and again, Percy can't describe the shape of it, not even how many syllables it was.
"I suppose the various parts might be used as weapons," the old god muses. He's entirely ignoring Atlas, letting the anger wash over him like it's no more potent than mist.
Atlas tries twice more to break into the sealed off room, and each time is as successful as the first. He breaks some new part of the old god's home each time. He eventually storms out, swearing at the old god, threatening a dozen curses and punishments when he has the time to enact them. He slams a fist on the cave wall as he goes, making dust and small shards of rock rain down.
The quiet is a relief, after he goes. The old god closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his clasped hands. He sits there, the picture of exhaustion, unmoving, ignoring the wreck his home has become in only a few minutes.
There's new footsteps at the entrance, and Percy watches warily. It's not a titan this time, but a familiar face.
Zeus looks to be in his mid twenties this time, a decent scruff at his chin, the perfect godly physique the gods typically have replacing the childish softness from last time. He smiles brightly at the old god, then saddens at the state of the room around them.
"Ah, Atlas. As brutish as always." Zeus pulls on a cheery tone, but the old god doesn't move to acknowledge his presence. "Old man?" When there's still no response, Zeus sighs, hands on hips. He waves a hand to make items repair themselves, the new dust everywhere vanish, and the home return to normal.
He walks to the old god's side, then drops to sit cross legged on the ground. Percy rises from his place in the corner to watch more closely. A few moments after Zeus sits at his feet, the old god sets one gentle hand in his hair.
"You won't help us," Zeus says quietly.
"I must not," he says, equally soft. "It is only if you and your siblings prove they can bear the weight of the world that I can teach you."
Zeus sighs, closing his eyes. "How many times will we get to speak? Before you die?"
The old god laughs, finally lifting his head. "I am not dying as fast as that, child." He brushes through Zeus's hair a few times. Percy's honestly shocked Zeus allows it with nothing more than a low hum. "We will speak another few times before I pass."
He smiles secretively at Percy. "And my death will not be the last we ever know each other."
Zeus looks up at him with a frown. "Here you go again, saying things which make little sense to me. Gods cannot return from death."
"Ah, but gods are born, are they not?"
Zeus scratches at his beard, confused. "Is that one of the things you are god of? Rebirth?"
The old god smiles. "What I am god of is something I will teach you. For now, tell me of your brothers and sisters. I so look forwards to meeting them."
Zeus grins like a kid. "They're wild! My second sister, Demeter, is already thinking of starting a family after the war. Hades, the oldest brother, is endlessly fascinated with the mortals living in this land. Says they're much more complex than they seem on the surface..."
Zeus continues chattering brightly like this as the dream fades out.