Chapter Text
Children are precious. They represent the future.
That’s what Percy was thinking as he watched younger and younger kids running through Camp Half-Blood. Tartarus had left deeper scars than anyone realized on the son of Poseidon. And yet, he kept going—especially for the sake of those children.
Things with Annabeth were over now.
"Dad once said the sea doesn’t like being held back," and maybe his relationship with Annabeth had become more of a cage than anything else. It had taken him time to understand that. His cousins had quite literally forced him into therapy after he nearly starved himself. That’s how he met Ariane, introduced by Dionysus—his therapist ever since.
Since opening up to Ariane, he’d finally started to find some peace.
Today was cheeseburger day with his cousins. Over time, they had become his anchors. He now lived full-time in Cabin Three at Camp Half-Blood. Lately, he had started to drift away from his mom—resenting her a little, even. Maybe it was a mix of anger and jealousy. Since little Estelle was born, his mom barely had time for him anymore, and she even seemed frustrated with him. That’s one of the reasons he moved out permanently.
He couldn’t sleep without waking up screaming after Tartarus—and apparently, that woke the baby.
His father had also stopped showing signs of life.
But one thing had changed: his cousins were closer than ever.
As for his divine family, ever since they fought Polybotes together, Kymopoleia had been visiting him regularly, helping him learn to live with and control his powers. He had even visited her underwater palace a few times. He wasn’t sure what it meant, really, that he had seen his sister’s domain—but never his father’s.
---
Thalia and Nico were already waiting for him at the McDonald's closest to camp.
“Hey, Perce.”
“Neeks, Thals, you’re early,” he smiled.
“We figured we’d surprise Camp Mom for once,” Thalia snorted.
“Oh, shut up, Thals,” he replied, hugging her tightly.
“So, how’s your latest dive into the sea?” Nico asked with a smirk.
“Kymopoleia is awesome… and also a total tyrant when it comes to teaching me her people's history and traditions. She might rule the depths, but she’s still a queen—and she treats me like some royal brat in training. She keeps calling me the *Sea Prince* and says one day I’ll have a kingdom, so she’s getting me ready.”
Thalia and Nico exchanged a look. Percy knew they were both already playing the long game: Thalia as a Hunter, and Nico being summoned to the Underworld constantly for his duties as the Ghost King.
As for him… ever since he turned down immortality again after the Gigantomachy, he hadn’t heard a word from his father.
“Ariadne said something yesterday,” he continued. “She asked me if I was finally ready to consider the long term. Since my biggest reason for turning down godhood was not wanting to leave the people I cared about…”
They both looked at him.
“So, what’s your answer, Percy?” Thalia asked with a hesitant smile.
“I still don’t know, Thals. We’ve lost so many friends in these wars… I keep going because I want to earn Elysium and see them again. But it feels like… a decision is coming.”
---
Nico’s expression darkened. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”
“What is it?” Thalia’s tone went serious.
“Haven’t you noticed how more and more monsters have been showing up lately? The Pit is releasing them to hunt demigods. But it’s not just killing anymore—they’re taking us as offerings for Tartarus himself.
Dad’s doing what he can to block living souls from entering the Underworld, but it’s not working well. He’s trying to keep me away because I could be hunted too. Demigod numbers are dropping fast—and you both know what that means for the gods. And what *we* mean to their survival.”
“Without us,” Percy said gravely, “they’ll fall. And fade.”
---
At that exact moment, a chill ran down his spine. Something ancient was listening.
For a heartbeat, Percy thought it was Tartarus—but no. The Moirai materialized in front of them, right there in the McDonald’s.
For once, they didn’t look like creepy old crones, but rather like teenage girls.
Then Lachesis, the one in the middle, spoke. She looked him dead in the eyes, just like their first meeting.
> “We meet again, hero of fate.
> We’ve woven your thread with others—threads that were cut but never truly meant to be.”
Atropos added,
> “I didn’t *want* to cut those threads. They snapped because too much strain was placed on yours.”
Then Clotho spoke:
> “Those lost threads have created an imbalance in the tapestry.
> We’re here to give the three of you a chance to preserve them.”
Percy looked at them warily.
“What exactly are you suggesting, ladies?” Thalia asked, her voice cautious.
> “A new tapestry. A return. A new beginning,” they said.
> “You will go back. You’ll prevent all of this—with the help of your faithful parents.”
“Assuming they even listen,” Percy said flatly. “Even after two wars, they barely care what we think. We can’t promise they’ll cooperate.”
> “They *will* cooperate,” they replied in eerie unison.
“That sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?” Percy asked.
> “You’re right, young hero.
> To carry out this mission, we don’t want to cut more threads.
> So, the three of you must offer your lives in return.”
They looked at each other.
Their lives—for the lives of everyone lost in the Titan War and the Gigantomachy.
It didn’t feel like too high a price.
> “Think carefully,” Clotho warned.
> “There will be no turning back once you agree.”
“We agree,” the three of them said in unison, without hesitation.
> “Then prepare yourselves.”
And just like that—they vanished in a flash.
---
*Winter Solstice – Year 2005*
As usual during the Winter Solstice council, the gods were busy doing what they did best—arguing over things of supposedly “great importance.”
Zeus, with his typical bravado, boomed:
— *I’m telling you, aerial disasters are far more spectacular than any shipwreck.*
Poseidon rolled his eyes and crossed his arms:
— *Nonsense! Everyone knows sea disasters are far more impressive.*
Hera snapped irritably:
— *I’m sick of your cheating, Zeus. I already punished that nymph you ogled yesterday.*
Demeter sighed:
— *You all need to stop arguing. You should really eat more grains. It helps with mood regulation.*
Athena interjected, sharp as ever:
— *Ares, the Afghans should be doing more to resist the Taliban.*
Ares scoffed:
— *What would you know, Athena? I’m the god of war, remember?*
Meanwhile, Apollo leaned toward Hermes and Hephaestus, whispering:
— *Should we mess with Persephone this time instead?*
Artemis watched the scene unfold with a look of deep exasperation, while Dionysus pretended to be deeply engrossed in a wine magazine.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light pierced the room—
The Moirai had arrived.
Zeus stood up a little too quickly, voice just short of trembling:
— *Ladies... what can we do for you?*
Clotho stepped forward:
— *We spin the threads of fate—even yours, O gods. And we can cut them too.*
Lachesis added sternly:
— *Your childish actions have thrown the tapestry off course. Because of your immaturity, the rest of the world is in danger. But we are giving you one final chance.*
Atropos looked each of them in the eyes as she concluded:
— *Summon the Queen of the Seas and the royal Atlantean family, as well as the royal family of the Underworld. Your heroes are coming. They have lived more than you could ever imagine. To harm them is to harm Fate itself. And if they won’t fight back… we will.*
The room fell silent.
In a swirl of shimmering bubbles, Amphitrite appeared—graceful and commanding—followed by her children: Triton, Rhode, and Benthesikyme. They took their place beside Poseidon.
Then, from a spiral of dark shadows, Persephone emerged with her children—Zagreus and Macaria—followed by Hades himself. The Underworld’s royal family seated themselves beside the sea deities, a gesture more significant than anyone cared to comment on aloud.
The Moirai snapped their fingers once more.
From the sky, three teenagers fell gently to the ground.
A dark-haired boy with sea-green eyes scanned the room cautiously, standing back to back with a pale boy and a goth girl, all of them on high alert.
Another flash.
A burst of seawater revealed a wild goddess with serpent-like hair and a protective stance. Emerging from the shadows, another goddess appeared—half-light, half-darkness. Their eyes swept the room before landing on the three teens. Instantly, they rushed forward, positioning themselves between the children and the gods.
The wild goddess glared at the green-eyed boy and snapped:
— *Godsdammit, Little Pearl, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?*
Atropos offered a rare smile to the five of them:
— *You’re all about to read everything you’ve lived through. The three of you already accepted the price to change fate. Now introduce yourselves to your so-called divine parents. And this time… do better.*
All eyes in the room locked on the five figures.
Thalia stepped forward, her voice thick with sarcasm:
— *Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus.*
Nico, still cradled in Melinoë’s arms, spoke calmly:
— *Nico di Angelo, son of Hades.*
Percy tried to step up, but Kymopoleia held him firmly behind her. He rolled his eyes, smiled toward his sister, and said:
— *Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.*
Zeus looked like he had swallowed a lemon whole.
Hades observed the children with a calculating gaze.
Poseidon remained outwardly stoic, but inside, he was rattled.
This was the first time Kymopoleia had stood in his presence in years—since their falling-out. He had always wanted to make amends. He loved all his children, even if time had only widened the rift. And now, his youngest son wouldn’t even look at him.
Amphitrite was no different. She watched Percy—the only child she had never held at birth—with deep sorrow. Sally Jackson had been the first mortal to captivate both the king *and* queen of the sea. Percy was the product of that rare love.
Watching him so close to Kymopoleia—the daughter they had driven away—rekindled something fragile in her heart. Hope, maybe.
Hestia’s gentle voice broke the silence:
— *You may sit beside your parents, children.*
But Kymopoleia’s grip on Percy tightened as her wary gaze flicked toward her family. Percy understood.
He turned to Hestia and asked softly:
— *Please, Aunt Hestia... can we sit with you? By the hearth?*
Nico and Thalia both nodded immediately.
Hestia, clearly moved, gave them a kind smile.
The three teens settled on a pile of soft cushions at her feet, close to the warm flames.
Behind them, Melinoë and Kymopoleia summoned their thrones—placed protectively near the children.
Books materialized in front of Hestia. She handed one to Zeus.
Once everyone was settled, Zeus scanned the room.
Hades watched Nico and Melinoë laughing with their cousins—something that had never happened before. Children of Hades were always cast aside. And yet now, the daughter of Zeus and the children of Poseidon had formed a cuddle-pile around his son.
Even Melinoë, who rarely showed warmth, looked at her little brother with soft eyes.
Poseidon, while motionless on the outside, was seething inside. Kymopoleia and Percy were physically close—but emotionally distant from him. He had once believed time would heal things. It hadn’t. If anything, it had made the gap worse.
And now even his youngest son refused to meet his eyes.
Amphitrite shared the same ache. She watched Percy with a longing gaze. He was the only child she had never held, and now he stood so near, yet so far. Watching him huddle against the daughter they had alienated gave her a bittersweet hope—maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild.
Finally, Zeus cleared his throat:
— *Who wishes to begin reading?*
— *I will, Father,* said Athena.
Zeus passed her the book.
On the cover, in bold letters, the title shimmered:
**“Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.”**
Athena opened the first page.
And read aloud:
— *Chapter 1: I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER*
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