Work Text:
Percy rubbed his fingertips against the condensation on his water bottle absentmindedly. He closed his eyes to feel the sun kissing his skin, leaving warm whispers in their wake. He sighed lightly, allowing his head to hang back from the top of the faded wooden bench. The bustle of the city was quieter in the early hours, though the city that never sleeps was sure to make itself known soon enough. There were only a few people in the park beside himself. The joggers in their skin-tight suits, a cell phone strapped to their arms, headphones blasting as they blocked out the rest of society. The older gentleman who spent his retirement here, bird feeding and people watching. The assorted folks sipping their coffee before heading into the morning shift. The art students who took their assignments very seriously, brows furrowed as they studied their muses. There was the photographer he'd see ever so often, the same girl snapping photos of the rising sun over Central Park. They all blended together in perfect harmony, their own little worlds never quite touching each other.
Then there was Percy Jackson. The only half-blood in sight, bronzed skin and night-black hair glistening in the rising summer sun. He wasn't one to frequent this part of the city, but today was the day. He'd leave the same day every year before the sun rose and return to his mother and step-father with coffee and pastries, ignoring their pitying looks. He would call Annabeth a bit later, allowing her to release all her stress onto him through the rippling water of their Iris Call. He'd call Grover much the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to catch the satyr as the years went on. He felt a hundred years older than the first time he'd come to this park, seven years old with eyes full of wonder. He'd killed since then, fought in so many wars, and lost so many people. It was that loss that brought him home. Whatever hint of innocence he'd had left of that little seven-year-old had long since washed away. Stolen by gods and titans and by the hands of time.
He exhaled long and slow as the swell of emotion ran through him. So many of his friends made their last stand in this city, fighting for people that would never know their names. His friends, his brothers and sisters in arms, his family. He'd spend the rest of the day at Camp Half-Blood for the vigil, head hanging low as the sobs sounded around him in a frenzy of dissonance. He'd listen to the speeches, comfort those who came up to him and make sure to fulfil the role of the Son of Poseidon. Finally, he'd make his goodbyes and travel back to Manhattan, pretending that the ceremony helped him. It didn't.
Percy Jackson was a survivor; he knew that in his past, he hadn't been able to distance himself from his emotions, but that had changed. Grief, pain, and sadness were like distant memories by now. He numbed himself from the particular brand of pain that death brought. He'd done his duty, saved the world, got the girl, and helped thousands of half-bloods find home and safety. Two times over. Of course, only a few months later, they'd connect to Camp Jupiter and mourn the same kind of loss. Memorials and funerals; same shit, different day. Two significant wars with major casualties, all within a matter of a year.
He just wanted to rest. Not that rest was in the cards for him; it never had been. Percy Jackson was destined to lose his life in battle, not to old age. He'd accepted that a long time ago. Percy took a sip of water from the bottle, the cool liquid that powered him through everything. His blood sang with it, and he basked in that feeling. He hadn't gone swimming in a long time; he'd have to fix that soon. He didn't move, though, just looked over to the statue nestled in the walkway.
Percy found himself side-eyeing every statue now, wondering if one of his own had fallen to the hands of the metal rapier in its grip. Plan Twenty-Three hadn't been foolproof after all. He clutched Riptide absentmindedly, the cool metal of the pen soothing him. His knee bounced, getting antsy while sitting still for so long. Of course, that was his instincts speaking. The ones that kept him sharp in battle and had saved his life countless times. Though, now it was a hindrance. He was so, so tired. Tired of always being on high alert, tired of constantly having to fight for his life, and tired of watching the people he loved dying. He jolted as a figure sat beside him, instinctively grasping Riptide from his pocket.
"Hello, Percy Jackson." He blinked in bemusement as the young woman who'd sat next to him. He widened his eyes in recognition and even further in surprise.
"Lady Hestia?" He ventured though the woman's small smile answered the question before it passed his lips. Percy was never one to stand on ceremony, but he did sit up a bit straighter, reflexively showing respect to the goddess.
"Thought I might find you here." She hummed, swinging her feet that barely touched the ground. He furrowed his brows in confusion, leaning back to study the goddess in slight unease.
"My lady, not that I'm not honoured to see you or whatever, but uh, what are you doing here?" He finally said, inwardly wincing about how disrespectful that might have been. Hestia liked him well enough, but there was a lot less likely chance of her burning him to death if Percy was polite. Not that she did that often, but one could never be too safe.
"My brother spoke to me, he's worried about you. He'd be here himself, but well, you know how Zeus is. You know that Poseidon isn't allowed to just come see you, so here I am. Simply relaying the message, but you get the point." Percy let out a huff of jaded laughter, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, unless I'm very much mistaken, I'm not in any life-threading danger right now. No more than usual that is. What's Dad so worried about?" He couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into his voice towards the end, unintentionally breaking the light tone he'd been aiming for. She studied him, and he felt himself bristle under her studious gaze. He felt like he was talking to Athena once again, those eyes that pierced souls.
"You're in a different kind of danger Percy. One no one can save you from but yourself." He steeled himself at that, immediately checking his surroundings. His grip on Riptide became tighter, adrenaline flowing through him in preparation for a fight. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder. He was brought back to the goddess next to him.
"What- uh, what kind of danger? Poison? I knew I shouldn't have trusted that street dog vendor, he smelt like a sewer in the summer. What kind of monster lets themselves stink like that while trying to pass in the mortal world?" Hestia's chuckle brought him back from his racing thoughts, shaking her head in amusement.
"You're paranoid Percy, you know that?" He scowled at her, causing her to laugh at the expression.
"So I've been told. So, I'll take it it's not the hot dog guy then?" Hestia shook her head, eyes gleaming with humour. Percy released an amused huff, sobering up a bit as Hestia eyed him again, face flat with seriousness.
"It's you Percy, you're the danger."
"Me?" Percy repeated in confusion, trying to understand her statement.
"Like I said, it's a different kind of danger." She replied with a shrug, looking at the park's turning world.
"What do you mean?" He asked as he gave up trying to figure out her puzzling statement.
"In a different world you might be having this discussion with Ares, he'd probably be happy to share his coping techniques with you. Of course, the last thing we need is a hero that goes around smashing people's heads into pool tables, so it's probably better that it's me." Percy cocked his head, brow furrowed as the goddess laughed to herself.
"Sorry, I'm not following." He said finally, and the goddess let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Percy, all I can do is watch and tend the flames. However, I do have a family full of warriors, and I know the ins and outs of war. You are on the out, and you don't accept it."
"What are you talking about?" He snapped a bit, reigning in that hot fury that constantly ran through him. Then, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his girlfriend reminded him, 'Goddess, Percy, be respectful.'
"You don't sleep, don't do anything for yourself, barely see your friends. I'm sure you have a dozen excuses for that, but I ask you to save them. I'd rather not drag this out longer than necessary." Percy shut his mouth with a click, prompting the goddess to nod her approval. Hestia glanced around, eyes falling upon the statue on its high podium.
"You aren't solving anything by torturing yourself, you know that, right?" Percy tensed at her light comment. It always made him uncomfortable when people read through his happy mask.
"I'm not-" The goddess rolled her eyes, shooting him an unimpressed frown.
"Yes you are. You come to the place where you know your comrades died, you're punishing yourself."
"What if I need a little punishment?" He mumbled, taking a swig from his water bottle.
"Then by all means, go join a sex dungeon." Percy spat his water out so fast that Hestia couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm going to try very hard to forget you said that." Her eyes crinkled with a smile before staring into the distance.
"There are groups who know, for soldiers who need help to face their demons." Percy stiffened slightly before slumping, shaking his head.
"I'm not a soldier though, I never served in the military." Hestia looked over at him sharply, irritation twisting her features.
"You do not have to serve in mortal battles to be a soldier. You are one, you have fought evils they will never understand. You walked the lengths of Tartarus and lived to tell the tale. You killed giants, defeated Titans, saved the world. Does that not make you worthy of the title?" Percy sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's not the same thing. Besides, even if I wanted to go join some support group, they'd never accept my presence. Who am I in a group for mortals?"
"A fellow brother in arms, a warrior serving the gods." She reinforced, and he couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that fell from his lips.
"Not to them. The evils I've seen are far different from the ones those soldiers have seen. For me, monsters are hideous creatures that are meant to be defeated without a second thought. For them… well, their monsters are mortals. Mortals just like them, with families and friends, and still, they fell them. I can't imagine their pain. I have not lived it. I'm no one in comparison." He explained, glancing up at the clear skies. He felt like he was looking at himself from the outside, dissecting everything that made people consider him great. He was tired, and trying to readjust back to the mortal world had been torture. How do you explain to mortals the multiple wars you'd fought before reaching eighteen? How do you explain how you did your best to stay awake to make sure you didn't hurt your family in your sleep? That you'd watched children die, that you'd seen the worst this universe had to offer? And how do you explain that you enjoyed it? That you loved watching those monsters being wiped from existence, wanted their pain?
"You think so very little of yourself Percy, what a strange trait for a hero." Percy was knocked from his thoughts at Hestia's soft comment, and he snorted derisively.
"I'll try and not take that personally." He replied jokingly, and she fixed him with a stern look.
"You were barely old enough to properly hold a sword the first time your life was in danger. You have fought tooth and nail for your family, for your precious mortals so that they will know peace." Percy sighed at her reply, self-doubt still prominent in his mind.
"And that's all well and good, doesn't change things. I'm not a hero, how can I be? I should have been able to save them, not stand by as they died. Two wars, in the span of a year, I should have been helping the entire time. I should've trained the young ones, but what was I doing? Sleeping." Hestia scoffed at that, raising an eyebrow at the boy.
"Ah, Hera's little game? You think you had control over that?" Percy hesitated at that, exhaling as he shook his head.
"No, I suppose not. I just… I feel useless. I feel tired." Hestia sighed, a softer look taking the place of the stern one. She cradled a hand against his cheek, turning him so he'd look at her. As she dropped her hand, she put as much understanding and empathy as possible into her eyes.
"That is not a mindset you want to lose yourself in Percy. You are a hero of Olympus, you deserve your laurels. You are far from useless."
"Look, Lady Hestia, I have nothing but respect for you. You're practically the only one I actually like," he muttered, "but I'm not a hero. I'm just a guy, you know? Nothing I did was solo, I had help along each step of the way." Hestia groaned impatiently, obviously reaching the end of her rope.
"Will you not admit, even to yourself, the amount of power that flows through your veins? Percy, there has not been a demigod like you since the heroes of the ancients." She insisted, irritation blazing in her eyes like a flame. He began to feel the same, tired of the constant praise.
"Lady Hestia, I'm really not some great hero. I'm just-"
"Percy Jackson. Hero of Olympus, slayer of Giants, slayer of Titans, defeater of Primordials. Praetor of Camp Jupiter, leader of Camp Half-Blood. The son of Poseidon, the God of the sea, the Earthshaker. You are the evil in stories that monsters tell their offspring, so they'll behave. You could boil the ichor in my veins and control the moisture in the air I breathe. You could bring nations to their knees, and in all likelihood, could kill a god with the flick of your wrist. They tell tales of your time in Tartarus, you know? The monsters that have reformed that is." Percy didn't know. More importantly, Percy did not want to know.
"Incredible tales, filled with so much deep-seated fear of one demigod, so much so that the thought of seeing you again keeps them far away from any camper. Monster attacks are at an all time low actually, did you know that? For the first time in history, monsters are actually avoiding demigods. In the fear of the demigod that laid conquest into the pits of hell, who killed thousands of monsters alone. The man who nearly choked the Goddess of Misery herself to death with her own poison. Something you should not be able to do Percy, make no mistake. No demigod should have such power, yet here you sit. You defy explanation Percy Jackson. You are the god's greatest gift, even if they won't admit it. The Fates themselves created you to protect the innocents, and you have done so admirably."
Percy tensed, his thoughts running wild from Hestia's little speech. 'She's right', a voice in the back of his head whispered, 'you do choose to fight the Gods' battles, choose to sacrifice your sanity and life so that other children won't have to keep losing theirs.'
"What use is power if it costs someone everything? I could always kill monsters on instinct, now I don't even have to try. I can make them suffer, and I want to. I want them to feel the pain of every camper's blood that is on their hands. I want them to burn on their own stomach acid until there's nothing left. I want them to feel how quickly I can bring them to the brink of death, just to pull them back and repeat that process for eternity. I can't sleep without seeing everyone I love killed in a horrific manner, I nearly kill anyone who tries to touch me, and I am so angry. I'm furious, all the damn time, so much so that my friends are afraid to come near me at times. In what way is power important if it makes it impossible to live in peace?" His voice broke on the final word, though the tears in his eyes stubbornly refused to fall. Hestia hummed, eyeing the once boy from the side.
"A hero who believes himself to be the villain. Now that is truly something new." Percy let out a broken laugh, brushing his hair from his face.
"It's not that, it's just- well. I know I can't save everyone, but what was I given these powers for if not for killing my enemies? Or rather, the enemies of the gods who can't get off their asses to fight them themselves. Not including you, of course." Hestia chuckled as thunder rumbled in the distance. Percy glanced skyward, deciding that today really wasn't the day he wanted to deal with one of Zeus' temper tantrums.
"Percy, I tell you these things not to make you feel better. I tell them to show you who you are. You're the demigods' saviour, their greatest protector." Hestia emphasised, and Percy couldn't help but be taken aback by the certainty in her words. The words didn't seem placating for the first time in a long while. His life had never felt like a reward, something he should be complimented for. He'd made mistakes, pissed off the wrong people, and lost innocents while defending those who'd never do the same in return. Hestia seemed to sense his thought process as she gave him a slight nudge with her elbow.
"My brother Zeus has it out for you, you know?" Hestia said mildly, and that brought an organic chuckle out of Percy.
"Well, that's not exactly news. The man's had it out for me since I was conceived. No offence, but that speech probably didn't help." Percy replied, startling a little at the loud bark of laughter Hestia let out.
"You don't really think I'd speak so boldly of your achievements if I thought my brother could hear us? No, our conversation has been shielded, probably what he's getting in such a fuss for. I swear, he's always been a little shit but lately he's just been annoying. Then again, younger siblings always tend to be, don't you agree?" Hestia moaned, though her eyes were alight with amusement.
"I don't know Lady Hestia, ask me again once Estelle is out of diapers." Hestia opened her mouth to reply when the thunder rumbled louder than before. Instead, she sighed in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest childishly. It was sometimes easy to forget that Hestia was a goddess as old as time itself.
"It is time that I go, Percy Jackson, you have given me much to think on." She finally sighed, standing up as Percy followed instinctively. She looked at him speculatively before cracking and offering him another kind smile.
"And Percy… take care of yourself. You still have battles to come, there is no doubt in that. Just remember, you are never alone. You'll always find home beside the hearth. There will always be room for my favourite demigod." Hestia winked before filing into the crowd that had grown since Percy had first sat down. He blinked a bit, still in a bit of shock from the entire conversation. He huffed a chuckle as he sat again, shaking his head in amusement.
"Hey, Seaweed Brain, what are you doing out here moping?" Percy jumped to his feet, spinning around to see perfect greys looking back at him. She had her trademark grin on, coffee in each hand and balancing a bag of pastries around her elbow. Her hair had grown, the blonde locks tumbling down her back. She still looked as beautiful as the day he met her.
"Wise Girl." He breathed, abandoning his bench to throw his arms around her, breathing in her signature scent of ink and floral dry shampoo she special-ordered from the Aphrodite cabin. She chuckled, patting his back as best as she could.
"If you're not careful you'll crush the pain au chocolat Percy, and then what will we do?" He pulled back immediately, causing her to laugh even louder.
"But, why are you here? How are you here?" She shook her head, handing him his coffee and grabbing his free hand in hers.
"I will always find you, Percy Jackson. No matter what. You should know that by now." He couldn't help the slight choked sound that fell from his lips, and she squeezed his hand. He pulled her gently towards him, taking the pastries from her and linking their arms.
"I'm heading to camp for the services later today. Coming with?" He asked, and she nodded, a weak smile crossing her lips.
"As if I could ever miss it." She replied softly, and Percy tightened his grip on her hand. They'd both been dealing with the after-effects of the war, after-effects of Tartarus. He hated that she'd had to have experienced the depths of hell, but he was also glad to have a partner that understood. It made his life a bit easier, and she made his life brighter overall, if he was honest.
"Good, I had a couple of ideas I wanted to discuss with Chiron, and I could use a strategy." He replied mildly, and she glanced over at him curiously.
"Not suspicious sounding at all, Seaweed Brain. What are you thinking?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He loved that face; it was her analysing look, meaning she was ready and willing to help him.
"I wanted to talk to Chiron about maybe starting a support group, an official one at least, for campers that went through the wars. Maybe Reyna would be able to help us, I think they have something similar in New Rome. We also need to figure out this phone situation, I bet Leo would have some ideas. I'm tired of demigods being trapped with no one to call." Annabeth's face softened into an incredibly fond look at his impassioned speech, pink dusting her cheeks when he beamed at her. She cleared her throat, letting go of his hand to run a hand through her locks.
"Whoa, Percy, that's a lot of plans for this early in the morning. Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?" He grinned mischievously before pulling his most "innocent" face possible.
"You know I'm Hestia's favourite?" He started mildly, enjoying the expression that had immediately wormed its way onto her face at his words.
"What?" Annabeth growled, her coffee trembling slightly in her clenched hand.
"Yep. Told me herself." He replied offhandedly before taking off towards the entrance of the park.
"WHAT? PERCY JACKSON, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" She shouted, smile still bright as she took off running after her snickering boyfriend. Hestia smiled at the vision in the flames, turning as she saw a fidgeting Poseidon approaching. She raised her eyebrow as she looked over at him.
"Yes?" She asked impatiently, and the god cleared his throat, glancing around the throne room to assure no one was watching them. His voice lowered to a hiss as he looked back at his older sister.
"Did you-" Hestia waved her hand dismissively, soothing Poseidon's worries.
"Of course I did. He'll be fine, Poseidon. If there's any demigod that can survive us, it's Percy." Hestia replied with a fond smile, and Poseidon nodded uneasily.
"It's not him surviving that I worry about, it's the rest of us." Poseidon muttered, the entire throne room turning to the two as Hestia let out the loudest barking laugh they'd ever heard from the goddess.
And somewhere, far, far away, The Fates grinned.