Archive of Our Own ^beta

Percy woke up in the Big House. This wouldn’t have been overly unusual, except for the fact that he remembered going to bed in his Manhattan apartment as a twenty-three year-old, and the torn shirt he looked down to see himself wearing had only existed in his closet at the age of twelve.

The scent of strawberries drifted toward him in the breeze, and he felt immediately calmed by the familiarity. If this was a dream, at least it was a nice one.

He reached for the glass of nectar on the table, and was surprised when his hands struggled to steady it. Maybe it wasn’t a good dream after all, he thought. If Hades was sending him some weird Tantalus inspired threat, Percy was going to march down there and-

“Careful,” Grover’s voice interrupted his seething, and he turned to look at his best friend, almost dropping the glass in shock.

Grover looked younger than Percy could ever remember him being, holding the Minotaur horn in a shoebox and covering his real legs with jeans and converse.

“You saved my life," Grover said, and Percy was hit with a wave of deja-vu. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this.”

Percy didn’t know what he was hoping to see when Grover placed the shoebox on his lap -a note from Hermes saying ‘PRANKED AGAIN, PERCE,’ would have probably been ideal- but the jagged, blood-splattered Minotaur horn was just as unpleasantly expected. Percy was beginning to have a bad feeling about everything.

He looked up at Grover with as much suspicion he could muster, and asked, “Hermes?”

Grover looked back at him with worry and not a small amount of fear.

“Percy, are you okay?” he asked, and the look in his eyes was so young and open that Percy knew for sure this was his best friend.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he said. “You just look like someone I know.”

Grover didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he continued, “You’ve been out for two days. How much do you remember?”

Percy almost wanted to laugh, he had more memories than he knew what to do with. Instead he looked across the meadow at the familiar groves of trees and rolling hills that had been his home for most of his life. 

“My mom,” he began, thinking back to his first encounter with the Minotaur. “Is she really…” 

Grover sniffled and looked down, “I’m sorry. I’m a failure. I’m- I’m the worst satyr in the world.”

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard the converse came off and revealed his hoof. Percy immediately felt terrible, poor Grover looked miserable and he wasn’t even trying to make him feel better.

“It wasn't your fault,” Percy said.

“Yes it was-” he started, but Percy wasn’t having any of it.

“Grover,” he said, turning to look his oldest friend directly in the eyes. “You didn’t cause the crash. You weren’t the one who sent the Minotaur after me.”

Percy ignored the flinch at the monster's name and continued, his remembered anger beginning to surface.

“And you weren’t the one who decided my mother would be a good bargai-” he cut himself off. “I don’t blame you, Grover. You’re my best friend.”

Now Grover looked like he wanted to cry for a whole other reason. Percy reached over to squeeze his arm, before raising his glass to take a sip of ambrosia.

“So,” he pulled his eyes back from the strawberry fields. “Where the hell am I?”

Grover stumbled, gingerly taking the empty glass from Percy and setting it on the table.

“Of course, yes,” he stuttered. “Mr D and Chiron are waiting.”

He helped Percy up and together they stumbled to the other side of the Big House. Down at the end of the porch, Dionysus and Chiron sat across from each other at the card table, but sitting between them was an unfamiliar face that had Percy immediately on edge.

A blonde haired boy who Percy would’ve bet Riptide on being an Apollo kid sat hunched over between them.

“That’s Mr D,” Grover murmured. “He’s the camp director. Be polite. The boy, that’s Lester Papadopoulos. He arrived just before you.”

He continued to introduce Chiron, but Percy was struck immoble as the boy who was most certainly Apollo looked up and met his wide eyes with a matching look of shock.

“Lester,” Percy said in disbelief, and it came out louder than expected. All three other heads turned to look directly at him as he tried to settle his face into a more neutral expression.

“Do you know each other, Percy?” Chiron asked, looking between them.

Apollo’s shock had settled into something more calculating, and he turned to give Chiron an innocent look.

“Percy and I were at school together a couple of years ago,” he said. 

Percy was grateful for the convincing lie - his friendship with Hermes had greatly improved his ability to sprout bullshit, but the whole waking-up-as-his-twelve-year-old-self situation was throwing him for a loop.

“Yep,” he managed to choke out. “School. Two years ago.”

Apollo’s eyes glinted in amusement. He said, “It’s totally cool that you’re here too, Perce.”

Percy thought Apollo might have been overdoing the whole act a bit, but the familiar exasperation he felt towards the sun god and his schemes was helping him overcome his stupor.

“Well that’s good,” Chiron said. “Now we have four for pinochle.”

He gestured at the chair to the right of Mr D who looked up with bloodshot eyes more calculating than Percy could remember.

“Oh, I suppose I have to say it again,” he said. “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There, now don’t expect me to be glad to see you.”

“Thanks,” Percy said flatly, turning to look at Chiron. He asked, “So you work here?”

Chiron paused to consider his words. “I’m afraid I never truly worked at Yancy Academy. In fact, Mr. Brunner was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron.”

Truthfully Percy had almost forgotten about the name his teacher had originally used, although its mention reminded him to act less knowledgeable until he could talk to Apollo and figure out what the Hades was going on.

“Okay,” he said, turning to look at Dionysus. “And Mr. D… does that stand for something?”

Apollo coughed in a way that Percy recognised him to be hiding his laugh.

“Young man,” Dionysus said. “Names are powerful things. You don’t just go around using them for no reason.”

“Right. Sure,” Percy said, knowing that was one lesson he had never learned.

Dionysus had finished shuffling the cards and began dealing them out.

“You do know how to play pinochle?” he said suspiciously.

“Sure,” Percy repeated, unwilling to deal with any of Dionysus’ judgment.

Chiron and Grover looked surprised, but Dionysus’ eyes had narrowed as he looked between Percy and Lester.

“Remarkably coincidental,” he said. “That our two new arrivals are both so knowledgeable about this game.”

Percy tilted his head and leveled his most innocent look at the god of wine, “I’d expect all civilized young men to know the rules of pinochle, wouldn't you?”

Dionysus looked at him with a calculating flare of his purple eyes.

“Perhaps,” he said, pausing before continuing to deal the cards.

Apollo was looking at Percy with an unreadable expression, and he recalled one of their recent conversations.

Percy was sitting on his fire escape enjoying the last of the afternoon sunlight. The sounds of the city were already beginning to get louder as coffee shop conversations were smothered by the pumping of music and drunken laughter. 

The setting sun flared into his eyes and blinked only to be greeted by a solid warmth casting a shadow as it settled beside him. The radiating heat and clean scent of honeyed sunlight gave away that it was Apollo before Percy even bothered to turn his head.

“So whaddya think?” Apollo said as the last rays of sunlight sunk behind the buildings.

Percy stayed silent, flicking his eyes toward the god in confusion.

Apollo sighed dramatically, clutching his chest and leaning more heavily against Percy’s side.

“The sunset,” he said, gesturing dramatically at where a gentle glow was fading against the dusk. “I made it just for you.”

Percy rolled his eyes and looked away, ignoring the flutter in his stomach with certainty that the god was exaggerating.

He missed the gentle look Apollo gave him as he let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

“It was great, man,” he said genuinely. “Really… um, beautiful.”

Apollo cleared his throat and let out a hoarse, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until Percy felt his skin buzzing at the intoxicating proximity of the god. Apollo was immoble and expressionless, staring out at the city deep in thought.

“So, uh. What’s up?” Percy finally asked.

Apollo chuckled. “Do I need a reason to come and visit my friend?” he asked.

Percy felt his face heat up, and he hardened the press of his shoulder against Apollo’s for a moment in admonishment. He could almost convince himself that the red in his cheeks was due to Apollo’s influence and not his own traitorous attraction.

“‘Course not,” he said and waited. “But I’m sure you’ve got one”

Apollo grinned at him, his molten gold eyes glinting at Percy’s lack of respect. He cleared his throat and shook out his curls. Percy tried to ignore how much he wanted to run his hands through them, Piper’s teasing voice coming to mind with a reminder about his worryingly predictable attraction to blondes.

“There might be a thing… with a harp and a-” Apollo faltered. “Another not-harp… thing.”

Percy stared at him, unimpressed.

“You could help?” Apollo said, his voice rising with a tentative question.

Percy’s expression didn’t change.

“...Please?” Apollo tried.

“Seriously, dude.” he said. “In my one night free this week, you’re gonna ask me to do a quest for you?”

Apollo’s face dropped and he looked almost guilty, but Percy was tired and resolute in his plans to order pizza and pass out on the couch. He decided to try what Kymopoleia called his baby-seal eyes, or what Triton referred to as taking-advantage-of-breakable-mortality-to-manipulate-father. 

He turned to look directly at Apollo and widened his eyes, giving the god the most innocent stare he could muster.

“Please Lord Apollo,” he began, ignoring the little voice of Annabeth in his head that told him the saccharine act was treading on thin ice with a god. “Don’t ask me to do a quest on my one day off.”

Apollo seemed frozen for a moment, and Percy was tempted to poke him to make sure Medusa hadn’t suddenly appeared and turned him into a statue. After a moment he shook himself out of his stupor and gave Percy another one of those inscrutable looks.

“Careful, Perseus,” he said. “That innocent act of yours could sell world peace to Ares.”

Hearing his full name from Apollo was rare, and Percy frowned, wondering if he should apologize. Before he could open his mouth, there was a shimmer of light and the god was gone.

“Young man,” Dionysus said. “Are you bidding or not?”

Percy pulled his attention away from Apollo and his memories, forcing himself to bid in the pinochle game. 

“There's too much to tell,” Chiron said. “I’m afraid the orientation film won’t be sufficient.”

Apollo made a small sound of protest at that, but Percy exhaled in relief at the knowledge his preteen hormones wouldn't be kickstarted by seeing the god reading poetry in his ridiculously short chiton.

Chiron leveled his gaze at Percy and spoke, “You know that your friend Grover is a satyr. You know that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat either, lad.What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek Gods - are very much alive.”

No shit, Percy wanted to say.

“You’re telling me God’s real,” he said instead.

“Well now,” Chiron said. “God - capital G, God. That’s a different matter altogether. We are dealing with gods, plural. Great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors, The immortal gods of Olympus.”

He paused before saying, “We discussed them in Latin class.”

Percy felt like screaming. This entire conversation was giving him a throbbing migraine that was only mostly deja-vu.

“Zeus,” he said, ignoring the distant rumble of his Uncle’s thunder. “Poseidon. Hades.” He kept his eyes on his cards and finished, "Apollo."

“Young man,” Dionysus said once again. “I would really be less casual about throwing those names around.”

Percy looked at him and tilted his head. “Mr. D,” he said. “You’re DIonysus, the god of wine.”

Dionysus turned to look at him straight on, curiosity and a hint of surprise in his expression. His eyes flared with purple fire and Percy saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death. Drunken warriors insane with battle lust, faces screaming as their hands turned to flippers.

Percy had seen worse. But if Dionysus was going to enter his mind without even a courtesy knock, Percy saw no issue in inviting him in to the more… troublesome areas. The pull of the entrance to Tartarus, a cold wind and echoing laugh body scraping along the ground and then a

Nine
Day
Fall.

Dionysus looked sickly, the fire in his eyes dimmed with an almost human fear. He stared motionless at Percy long enough to make Chiron and Grover uncomfortable.

Apollo brows were furrowed, looking at him with a concerned expression and Percy cleared his throat to break the tension. 

“Perseus Jackson,” Dionysus began. He paused and seemed to reconsider what he had planned to say. He continued, “Cabin eleven. You too, Lionel Petterson.”

Percy was looking closely enough to see the displeased tightening of Apollo’s eyes at his half-brother’s immediate dismissal before the expression smoothed out. There was a glimmer of light before a golden sun burst into existence above the head of the god, sunbeam arrowheads finding their way to momentarily blind DIonysus before fading from view.

Playing the role of a shocked camper with all the joy of an art god, Apollo was animatedly looking around as though wondering where the claiming symbol had gone. Percy shouldn't have found it so amusing.

“My apologies, Lester,” Chiron said. “Cabin seven for you, child. Come, both of you, we will walk together.”

He wheeled himself away, while Apollo and Percy stood hastily to follow, ignoring the cautious gaze of Dionysus on their backs.

“Dude, what the hell!” Percy exclaimed as soon as they were out of hearing range from their previous companions. “Why- no how the hell are we here. How are you here without anyone noticing?”

Apollo leveled him with a pinched look and said, “I’m not entirely sure. I sense… This feels primordial. My prophecy domain is in shambles and it’s only a matter of time before some other god notices.” His expression was more worried than Percy could remember seeing since his trials. “The search for my father's master bolt is the only reason my absence is going unnoticed at the moment.”

Well that was all terrible news. Percy didn't know what to say.

“How did you claim yourself,” he blurted out and wanted to drown.

Apollo’s expression cleared and his lips twitched into a smile.

“I love my brother,” he said. “But I am not going to stay in a cabin with his children.”

Percy thought that was fair enough. Apollo reached out and squeezed his hand, letting a hint of his healing power seep into Percy’s skin with a tingling warmth.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Oh no, Percy thought, holding the hand of the sun god, his stomach tying itself in knots.

With brown eyes that were molten in the sunlight, soft golden curls and honeyed words - Percy believed him.