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Part 3 of EPIC: The Heroes Saga
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The_unforgettableStory, my strange addiction
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2025-07-11
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2025-12-20
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49/?
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EPIC: The Devotion Saga

Summary:

Percy knew that traveling back to ancient Greece wouldn’t be a walk in the park (time travel was supposed to be impossible), but he was determined to keep his promise to Telemachus; not knowing that being back wouldn‘t solve all of his problems like some Holy Moly.

But Percy was one stubborn demigod, and he had a lot to fight for. He would face gods, suitors, and arrogant guards, as well as unfairness, schemes and heartbreak gladly, if it meant to finally reach his Dream-Boy again. And…cows (?) where in Hades did they come from? And what was that about someone trying to trap his Prince in a marriage?!

Oh, and Ody would also need a way back home to finally rid the palace of all the rats crawling around.

All in all, there would be enough to keep him entertained for a while…if he could only find the answer to the most useless crappy riddle the Fates had ever spun! (Pun intended, but not appreciated…)

Or

Telemachus was sick of waiting. Especially when it came to Poseidon's slow-witted and completely blind son, who, even after months (or years) of hints, still didn't understand that he was the only one for the prince. It was time to get out the big guns (or apples)…he had a demigod to seduce!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Livin' in this world you left behind

Notes:

We're up, we're off and away we go! 🎶

Buckle up, Buttercups! We're on course for the long awaited reunion. Which will be-

Nah, as if I would spoil all the fun here ;P

Enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

PERCY Jackson knew that after fighting a war, seeing his friends die and kill others with his own hands, one was expected to be a bit wary of sleep and dreams. As a rule, nightmares happened after traumatic or tragic experiences, and Percy had by far enough of those for several lifetimes.

Being attacked by your teacher at age 11 and stumbling into a life full of monsters, fighting and killing, was just the start of the incredible complex and traumatizing life of a demigod. And as a son of Poseidon, Percy already had his work cut out for him in that department since birth.

Getting knocked out and thrown back in time, where he had (more or less voluntarily) joined the biggest and most dangerous sea voyage in history, watching friends get smashed by clubs, a whole fleet drown, a monster snacking on humans and the King of Gods smiting everyone that was left, was still a much harder thing to live through.

Because when people died, they stayed dead.

All those monsters? Yeah no, those fuckers would be back again either in a few months or years to haunt him again. So, it wasn’t their deaths that should keep Percy from getting a few hours of shut eyes. It was much more plausible for all the humans and mortals, that had perished during the war, to haunt him at every waking moment.

Because some (or most) of them had died because of his actions, by his sword.

Even after all the tragedy and horrors he had witnessed in the past, their deaths weighing on his soul would be more than logical. It was almost a requirement at this point, seeing how his friends and fellow survivors at Camp Half-Blood were regularly plagued by night terrors or crying sessions because of all the things they were forced to do during the war.

Maybe that was why Percy had stayed away from camp for most of the past few months.

He couldn’t look into the faces, drawn tight from grief and loss and pain, and fake himself feeling the same. Because he didn’t. He didn’t feel bad about all he had done to save Olympus, or all demigods he had to kill for it. Maybe there was a pinch of regret for the youngest of them, being groomed by Kronos from the very start, but the son of Poseidon had given them all a second chance after the battle of the Labyrinth. It wasn’t his fault for them not taking it. And after that offer, he had only acted like all his experiences and his heart had taught him.

He understood his father now. Maybe better than ever before. Ruthlessness was mercy upon themselves.

But he also kept the other advice he had been given, a time long past, close to his heart.

Ruthless does not mean cruel.

And with this, they had circled back to his original problem. Because Percy Jackson did not have trouble sleeping because of possible nightmares (at least, not the ones people thought he would - and should - have), but because he feared seeing nothing at all in his dreams

He feared (dreaded) not seeing him.

His Dream-Boy. Telemachus.

Because every dream without him felt hollow, useless, irrelevant. Everything else he saw, when sleep claimed him, seemed artificial or forced. The only exception were nightmares about the prince fighting, hurting or dying. But those were rare and after a while, Percy stopped fearing them. No, instead he even began to crave them. As a connection, a chance to see those beautiful caramel eyes again. Even if it tore his heart to shreds.

Some would think that after over three years of no lucid dreams, the pain of separation would pass, the longing cease and the agony of still hoping would dim. But none of that happened.

Percy was still hoping (pleading) to see him again.

So much so, that the demigod began imagining things.

He would turn around randomly when a thought struck him and he wanted to share it, expecting to see his friend somewhere close by, but there never was anything beside him.

Not even the strange feeling at the back of his neck had stayed. The one that made him felt watched and appraised, but in a good way. A secure way. Like someone was hanging over his shoulder. A silent watcher and quiet support. It had felt so much like Telemachus, that sometimes the demigod even hallucinated a version of his friend helping him in his most dangerous of perils. Like Telemachus trying to hold the sky with him, showing him the weak spot in his fight against Kampe, helping him level a mountain, coming with him to Calypso’s Island and pulling him out of the Styx.

But the most vibrant vision had to be the one during his fight against Kronos. Because Percy could’ve sworn it wasn’t him that plunged the sword into the Titan’s armpit. He had been way too busy holding his blood down on the ground to do anything else (just another thing he should probably think more about). But when the gods appeared, no one had mentioned anything, and all his mumbled explanations were waved off as exhaustion. Not even Hestia had said a word about it.

And now, the feeling was gone.

It hadn’t returned since that fateful day of the Olympian council.

It felt like the last piece connecting him to a part of his life (that was more dream than reality at this point) had vanished. Leaving him all alone. Drowning in his feelings of sorrow and grief and longing.

No one could understand him. Not even Grover. Not even Annabeth.

Both of his friends were busy or distant or both. Especially Annabeth. She blamed him for Luke’s death, had accused him of not trying hard enough to save him. (Which was fair, but what other choice did he have? Luke had been the enemy. Killing him was something the son of Poseidon couldn’t even bother to pretend regretting.)

Anyway, it was too hard for Percy to be around them right now, faking feelings of regret he did not have and masking all those negative ones he did feel. It was exhausting and not worth the trouble.

Only his Mom understood. Or she tried to, at least. She didn’t expect him to feel a certain way, or forced him to speak. Which was most likely why he did it anyway. Talking to his Mom was therapeutic and relaxing (not in the same way that conversations with Telemachus were, but it was a close thing). She listened more than most without interrupting (only his Dream-Boy had found some way to always find the right point to intercept without aggravating him) and her hugs felt amazing. As did her blue cookies and pancakes and her… everything. Being with his Mom again was healing, but it was slow. A process that could not be rushed, as everyone was so fond of telling him (he mostly ignored those talks nowadays, refusing to meet anybody if they only wanted to ‘catch up’). But sometimes… it felt like the cracks in his heart were too big for even his mother’s magic.

Sally Jackson was a smart woman, and she most definitely saw him getting worse with every passing day, despite healing the wounds from the war. In trying to help him solve whatever ailed his heart and mind, she had sent Paul away for a weekend and took him back to their cabin in Montauk.

To spend time with just the two of them.

Buried in blankets, hot chocolate and blue cookies ready, sitting in front of a cozy fireplace, Percy finally found the courage to tell his Mom about his wish to see Telemachus again, and how hard the Fates had rebutted him. It made the hurt unbearable for a moment, but when he was pulled into a warm embrace and cooed over for such a long time it should have been embarrassing, the pain dimmed a bit.

His mother proceeded to ask after the exact wording of the goddesses, and after receiving that, she was quietly thinking, until Percy was already on his way to an exhausted nap.

“They only said that there was no way to get back with the help of a god. Not that there isn’t one at all. Maybe we just need to find something to take you there without godly interference.”, she mused softly after a while, and a jolt of hope sprang down his spine. The son of Poseidon turned around in her arms with big eyes and a quirked lip. “You think there is one?”, he whispered, as if speaking loudly would already break the delicate possibility.

Sally Jackson smiled fondly and full of love as she stroked through his hair: “I do. The Fates said you were always destined to come home. That must mean something.” He was confused

“But I am home?”, Percy said with a furrowed brow. His mother’s smile turned a bit sad, before she leaned in and touched her forehead with his. “Are you?”, she breathed, the question honest and vulnerable. The demigod shivered.

“Home is not always a place, sweetheart. Sometimes it is a person.”, continued his Mom, calm and sweet, not in the least judging. Still, Percy indigently exclaimed: “But you’re my person! You are my Mom!”

“And I will always be. But that doesn’t mean you won’t leave the nest someday.”, she soothed immediately, not letting him out of her hug and her presence that smelled so comforting. While she caressed his arms, her tone changed to something grave. 

“Your heart is very ill, Percy. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”, Sally began, and the demigod froze in guilt. A perfectly placed hand on his chest smothered the hard edges in his posture while simultaneously highlighting the (still very big) cracks in his heart (or mind, or soul, or- whatever).

Sally Jackson was not done with her observation: “It’s been like this for years, but never this dire. Something changed after last summer and I fear that if we don’t get you where you need to be, you will succumb to it. Death by heartbreak isn’t uncommon on Greek mythology…”

She did not sound disappointed, or hurt, or judging, but Percy still refused to meet her eyes.

He felt bare and tender, like his innermost being had been dragged under the hard and cold light of reality. Hearing his problems and their (possible, but very much exaggerated) consequences named so clearly was horrible, but surprisingly helpful. The son of Poseidon knew his Mom was right.

Maybe… until she started to appear unsatisfied or hurt, he should play along for a bit? Just to see where this train of thoughts would go? Playing with hypothetical scenarios could not be any more painful than this very real ache in his heart, right?

“But even if there is a way…what if I can’t come back? I don’t want to leave you alone… Or leave at all.” He hastily added the last part after a too-long second of hesitation. His Mom called him out immediately, but with a teasing smile instead of sounding upset: “Liar.” 

He huffed and bathed in her bell-like laugh, before the mood settled again and Sally continued in her typical warm tone: “Do not worry about me, little pearl. You could write me letters and pay Hermes to deliver them. Just a few centuries later. I will open a post box just for that.”

“You got that nickname from dad!”, Percy exclaimed, trying to change the subject. He couldn’t allow himself to examine that possibility as something that could be real.

(It could work…)

His Mom nudged him, noticing his trick, but for once not calling him out instantly: “I did. It fits.” She let her words hang in the air for a moment longer, giving Percy the time to think about her suggestion more deeply. The conclusion was ambiguous at best, and he voiced it: “That would still mean I’ll never see you again.”

“Maybe, but…can you keep a secret, Percy?” Was there a hint of nervousness in her voice? The demigod was intrigued and looked up into her face. She met his eyes clearly, but something unspoken in them pleaded for reassurance. “Of course.”, he gave it instantly. Sally Jackson breathed a deep, calming breath and pulled him even closer.

As flushed as they were, Percy could feel her heartbeat fluttering and the spasm of her fingers. He adapted her mood and felt himself starting to fidget, until his Mom finally spoke: “Sometimes… I have dreams of another life. Of a palace surrounded by water, a loving husband and a kind son. And that son has a friend, brave and strong. I am waiting for my husband to come home and then feel loved when he draws me into his arms. Does that sound familiar to you?”

It did. Way to familiar. It was a story as old as time. Told to thousands, especially Half-Bloods. But it couldn’t be…

Could it?

Percy felt his brain move in highspeed as he mumbled: “You think you were…”

“Yes.”, confirmed his Mom, so obviously glad and relieved that he believed her. She stormed on with the original topic, before the son of Poseidon even got enough brains together to form a question. “So you would not have to say goodbye to all of me.”, Sally smiled uncertainly, “And don’t forget your immortal family! You told me how kind Lady Amphitrite and Lord Triton treated you. They would still be there, no matter how far back you go. You would still have a family.”

The demigod didn’t answer, but both of the Jackson knew that something in his heart changed that evening.

-

They did not speak directly about it again, and they didn’t need to, because their goal was clear. His routine upon returning to Manhattan got upgraded and now included hours over hours in the library and every history museum in whole New York.

He and his mom looted all they could find regarding the control of time, writing history professors at universities, buying books and alleged original copies of ancient reports for so much money that Percy began treasure diving again.

His Dad did not ask what it was for, but he send a few pearls his way anyway.

Their apartment became a research center. Even Paul contributed every part of his time he could spare. No one mentioned Percy going back to school again (which was probably for the best; the demigod didn’t know how controlled he could be around overactive teenagers after all he’d been through). They even got the original Odyssey from Homer, but Percy refused to read it himself.

If he got back, he wanted to be spared the headache of trying to preserve some timeline. It would work out as it should anyway, otherwise the Fates wouldn’t have given him even a sliver of hope. He decided to take their cryptic message as all the permission he was going to get to mess with time again.

So, instead of him reading the book, they instructed Nico with it, after the son of Hades dropped in one day to check on him. Together with his Mom, the other demigod went through the many, many pages alone, but with the same depressive conclusion as all their other research yielded.

A big black hole of nothingness. 

They even cornered Chiron and Mr. D when they both visited Camp a week before Christmas to drop off a few presents for the year-rounders, and prayed to Athena for wisdom. But all they got were pitying glances and evasions. For days and then weeks and then months, they found nothing but hints that led to nothing, or fiction that was too fantastic to be real. And as much as Percy was ashamed of it, his thoughts became darker. All the roadblocks they met, especially from the divine world, only hammered home how hopeless his endeavor truly was. After being rebuked one too many times, the son of Poseidon refused to ask anyone else in Camp for help.

It fell upon Nico to get Malcolm to give up all the texts in the Athena cabin for research.

Asking Annabeth was out of the question.

The daughter of Athena was still a sore spot for Percy. They never reconciled after Luke’s death, as she was still convinced of him being some tragic and misunderstood hero. Percy refused to feed into that delusion, and they argued quite harshly about it before he gave up.

She was still distant and hurt (and a bit afraid of him, after all he had done in the battle of Manhattan, which he found hypocritical as Hades). He’d given everything he had to make sure their side was victorious. Only because it wasn’t with methods that met her moral compass, didn’t mean it had been wrong to use them. But after the third fight about him supposedly not holding back enough, the son of Poseidon was more than happy to reciprocate the distance between them.

So, getting help from her was as likely as Percy giving up in his endeavor completely.

Their break-up also didn’t help with feeling less lonely and isolated, nor did it make the slowly growing desperation and hopelessness go away.

Maybe he needed to find a way to deal with the fact that he could not keep his promise to Telemachus after all...    

But then the unexpected happened.    

Notes:

Well, well, well...what do we have here? Exposition? Hints? A depressed little Percy? :O

;P

Don't panic! You'll still get a chapter tomorrow. I split the first chapter into two because it otherwise would've been too long.

Suggestions, questions, thoughts and feelings are always welcomed and appreciated :)