Chapter Text
Percy never wanted his quest, never wanted the fate of the world and the threat of a war on Olympus as his burden at the ripe age of twelve. Part of him craved whatever sense of normalcy he'd had before that trip to the museum, when the most important task of his life was to keep track of Gabe's mood and help his mother sneak blue food dye into their dinner.
He never wanted to be a hero, but it wasn't only in his name- but in his blood. It was in the way the tides responded to his pleas no matter what, in the way he felt wrong unless he was giving himself up for something, for someone.
Percy never wished for near death experiences, and yet when they arrived he was the first to jump in, the first to make whatever sacrifice was needed, no matter how foolish he'd be called for it. No matter what preparations he'd done for his quest, no matter how many times he'd gotten Luke to call out an improper stance or a sloppy defense, he only felt like a proper hero when he was seconds from death.
But miraculously, he hadn't died, even when he'd jumped off a height he certainly wasn't meant to survive, or willingly walked into a trap that had once chained a goddess , or even when Zeus had prepared to strike him down where he stood for saying nothing but truth.
The pity in Poseidon's gaze as he regarded him for the first time left a bitter lump in his throat.
Percy had never liked fireworks. They were so bright that looking at them made his eyes burn, the sound reverberating in his skull. But he couldn't help but smile at them now, lighting up the sky in flashes of swirling color. He had never wanted this life, this quest, but he'd always wanted to be seen.
“They really pulled out all the stops for you, didn't they?” Luke snapped him out of his daze with a light hit to the shoulder, Percy grinning at him as they made their way into the woods. The path was familiar to him by now, his legs knowing exactly where to take him after so many times of following Luke into the maze of birch trees to train. He ran his hand across the barks as they passed the thin trees, slowly approaching the ruins at the edges of camp.
The celebrations had lasted for hours now, and didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Campers he'd never even spoken to before had come up to congratulate him with wide grins, Chiron regarding him with pride as he instructed him to burn the funeral shroud they'd made in his absence. Percy had found the tradition strange, as if they hadn't expected him to come back, but did as told regardless to be met with more applause. He'd been pulled aside to be praised about a dozen times throughout, and even Dionysus had seemed slightly less terrible to him.
Glory , he'd thought quietly as he battled his overstimulation. This is what glory is.
The ruins came into view quickly, the harsh light of the firework reflecting off the black rocks. Percy caught sight of his and Luke's training swords resting against one of the stones, right where they'd left them following their last training session before his quest. Luke rested the lantern he had been carrying amongst the dry leaves on the floor, the light emanating from it enveloping the clearing in a soft orange glow.
“You've been quiet,” Luke regarded him, the older half-blood's gaze full of concern. Percy shrugged in response.
“Just.. thinking, I guess,” he tried, sighing. Basking in his kleos had gotten old after the first hour, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts. He was still unsure of how to feel, a whirlpool of emotions swirling in his gut as he tried to come to terms with what he'd gone through while on his quest. A bitter dread still curled in his chest, an unshakable feeling that nothing was over, that this had only just begun . Luke lifted a brow.
“About?” He prompted curiously, stepping closer to Percy's side in quiet support. Percy appreciated the gesture for what it was, but shook his head. Luke frowned. “If it's about your quest, that's over now. We just have to talk with Chiron, yeah?”
Percy nodded, looking down at the forest floor. Dried leaves crumpled under his feet with a satisfying crunch, though it was swamped by the sound of the fireworks still crackling above. “I know,” he responded, leaning closer to Luke. “Just.. I'm thinking about what the Oracle told me.”
“Really?” Luke tilted his head, a smile tugging at his lips. His scar crinkled as he smiled, his face illuminated by the light of the lantern. Further into the woods, Percy heard crickets chirping. “Don't be too worried, those things are far too vague to matter.”
Percy's gaze returned to the dried leaves. “I just- well, everything she said has come true by now.” He spoke carefully, a strange discomfort settling over him. Luke seemed to grow concerned.
“How so?”
The lines of the prophecy echoed in his mind, engraved into his head from the moment he'd first heard them. “ You shall go west and face the god who has turned, ” he began, reciting the words that had plagued him his entire journey, eating away at him with every step.
“Ares, then,” Luke guessed. Percy nodded in confirmation, his muscles still aching from his previous fight with the god.
“ You shall find what was stolen, and see it returned, ” he continued, Luke shrugging.
“That's got to be the bolt, no? And Hades’ helm.”
“I think so,” Percy nodded, pushing back memories of the underworld, of his mom's paralyzed form, encased in a shining, gilded prison. “And- and then..” He trailed off, his throat suddenly dry. Luke watched him intently.
“You.. You shall be betrayed, ” he said, the words like ash on his tongue. “ By one who calls you a friend. ”
“Did.. that one come true?” Luke asked, suddenly quiet. Percy shook his head but didn't meet his gaze. Memories of his quest came flooding back, the prophecy bringing everything he'd pushed away back to the surface. He thought of Medusa, of the Arch, of Ares and Waterland and the chair . He thought of the underworld, the stench of death and damnation and the promise of pain as the winged shoes dragged him and Grover into the Pit-
The shoes.
Oh. Oh gods.
“Luke,” he murmured after a moment that seemed to stretch far longer than time ever had back in the Lotus Casino. “You- you didn't tell Chiron about Clarisse- because, because it wasn't her, was it?”
Luke’s gaze darkened, the scar across his face almost twisting in the light of the lantern as he turned his head to meet Percy’s eyes. Dread settled in Percy's gut, clawing at his lungs as his breathing grew ragged.
“It- it was you.” Percy spoke, voice barely above a whisper as he nearly choked on the words. “The shoes, the bag, you were trying to get the bolt to Kronos, weren't you?”
Luke didn't respond, the only sound in the clearing being the chirping of crickets and the booms of the firework, swallowing them in a flash of red.
“Luke- please. ” Percy felt tears brimming in his eyes, his throat dry and tight. His friend- his friend, regarded him with an almost pained look in his eyes, his gaze pitying, guilty . The sky lit up with a deep blue, illuminating the clearing, the light reflecting in Luke's eyes.
“This isn't a betrayal,” Luke spoke, struggling to keep his voice level. “Percy, I swear to you. I.. I'm your friend.” He took a step forward, hand extended in a placating gesture. Percy took a step back, shaking his head frantically. He didn't- he didn't understand .
“The gods are my enemy,” he quickly insisted, continuing his approach. “You're- I'm not here to betray you, Percy. I'm here because I care .”
“No,” Percy stammered. “ No, you're-”
“I'm here to recruit,” Luke said simply, reaching to a sheath Percy hadn't even noticed. As if on instinct, he brought Riptide out of his pocket and uncapped it, letting the cap fall to the dry leaves as he drew his blade to meet Luke's.
“It's okay,” Luke said quickly as he held up his sword, the blade tinged with an unfamiliar metal. “I don't want to fight. I just.. I just need you to see.”
“I don't-” Percy adjusted his stance quickly, taking a step back and holding Riptide up higher in a defensive position. Just like Luke had taught him in their lessons, where Percy had let his walls lower ever so slightly to let Luke in, where the son of Hermes had taught him everything he could to help him survive, ruffling his hair and offering him pointers for his stance disguised as friendly banter.
A smile crept up on Luke's face as he observed Percy before lowering his weapon. He gestured to it with a tilt of his head as he kept his gaze focused on Percy, arm still extended in front of him. “This is our ticket out of here.”
He turned around before Percy had a chance to react, tilting his head as he studied the stones of the ruins, worn by age with overgrown shrubbery and moss climbing onto the ancient structure. Eventually, he raised his blade, carving a harsh line through the rock that left behind a blue glow. Percy watched with wide eyes as the sword's movement ripped a hole through the air itself, a harsh line rimmed with blue light. Luke turned to him, his smile persisting.
“This is our ticket out of camp, out of Olympus’ sight, out of their control. ” He spat out the last word, tinged with deep resentment. Percy felt terror claw at his gut, but his feet felt rooted to the ground, chained in place like the spirits in Asphodel were. He was incapable of anything aside from listening to Luke's words and holding onto Riptide like a lifeline.
“Backbiter can open secret passageways,” Luke regarded the blade before turning his gaze back to Percy. “We can stay on the run as long as it'll take.”
Percy found enough strength inside of him to take another step back. “Stop saying we ,” he stammered. Luke frowned.
“It's the word they fear the most,” the son of Hermes said, voice oozing with familiar charisma. “The gods, they need us. They need us to compete with each other over the scraps they throw for us, they need us to give ourselves to them, to serve them, obey them, fear them.” Luke's anger bubbled over as he spoke, an almost frenzied look in his eyes. “They don't care about us.”
Percy quickly shook his head, as if on an impulse guided by the phantom feeling of his father's hand on the back of his neck. “No- no, they-”
“They've gotten away with it for far too long.” Luke spat, voice tinged with resentment. Percy's heart sank, desperation in his eyes as he looked up at him. “Stealing the bolt, the helm, that was just the beginning.” He began, turning back briefly to scratch another glowing indent into the stone. Percy watched in horror as another mark embedded itself in the air.
“For what comes next..” Luke hummed for a moment, studying the glowing indents in the rock as he raised his sword. “We'll need all the help we can get, Perce.”
“What?”
“You'll be appreciated with us, you'll be cared for,” Luke lowered his sword for a moment to regard him again. “Kronos, he cares for us.” There was desperation in Luke's eyes, a care that swamped anything he'd seen from the Olympians. The memories of his father sprung back into his mind, the pitying way Poseidon regarded him. As if he was sorry for him, as if his very existence was a mistake. Luke.. Luke wasn't looking at him like that. His eyes were kind, holding nothing but desperation and warmth as he regarded him. To his surprise, some part of Percy wanted to believe him, to take his offer.
Luke had shown him care that went further than the gods, than his own father had ever given him. Poseidon hadn't even refuted Zeus’ claim of Percy being a mistake, refusing to look his son in the eye until Percy had asked about his mother and been pushed aside once again. He spoke of Percy's tie to the sea, claimed him as the son of the tides, yet he hadn't even said goodbye.
Luke had been there for Percy’s first day, giving him his pillow so sleeping on the floor for his first ever night would be slightly less uncomfortable and he could be spared from using his own backpack as something to rest his head on. Luke had been there after his worst nightmares, offering him blue m&ms stolen from the packages the Stolls always burnt for their father. Luke had been there to guide him through every camp activity there could be, offering support even as Beckendorf shook his head and commented on Percy's improper stance before kindly asking him to refrain from practicing in the forges again, lest he cause another fire. Luke had been there to pick up on Percy's only real potential- wielding a sword, before offering him lessons with a glint in his eyes.
But Luke had framed him for his theft, Luke was ready to be a catalyst for a war. Luke was serving Kronos, the very root of Percy's torment, his nightmares.
The son of Hermes studies his gaze for a moment, before he turns back to the stone to slash what feels like the final indent into the ruin. The clearing is bathed in crimson, but the sounds of the fireworks are distant now as Percy's hands shake. The older half-blood, the one Percy had oh so idolized, raises his sword. Percy knows he is at a crossroads, two decisions offering themselves to him. He can do nothing, let Luke rip through the barrier and escape the camp with him. Or he can do what he's done for weeks now, the one thing that had gotten his father's attention. He can fight.
He looks at Luke and part of him cries brother while the other raises Riptide.
He surges forward, parrying Luke's blade away from the stone and towards the forest floor with a clang. Luke takes a step back, eyes flashing with something unreadable before he raises his sword back up to meet Riptide.
“ Luke, ” he chokes out, meeting the half-blood’s gaze as tears brim in his eyes and he blinks them away. He can't cry, not now. “The gods, they- we can't .” He tries to beg. He needs Luke to see reason, he can't let him do this. He wishes Annabeth or Grover were here, he's utterly helpless alone. “I-I met your dad, he-”
At that, anger flashes in Luke's eyes, an unfamiliar rage that Percy has never witnessed in him. The orange light of the lantern is like a wildfire in his eyes as they narrow and he grits his teeth, his scar contorting with his furious expression. Percy finds that he's afraid of Luke before the son of Hermes lunges.
Luke swings Backbiter with a furious hiss, Percy ducking moments before the blade could graze him, bringing up Riptide and staggering to his feet to meet Luke's blade as he attempts another swing. The blades connect with another harsh noise that grates against Percy's ears, and he struggles to hold his stance. Luke is far stronger, his expression still unreadable aside from the haze of fury in his eyes.
Percy takes a quick step back, disengaging for a moment to take a swing that Luke dodges with ease, grabbing onto his wrist and holding it in place along with his blade. Percy lets out a frantic exhale as Luke raises Backbiter right to his chest, tilting his head.
“Luke, please- ” Percy tries to reason, but is cut off as the half-blood's face twists into a scowl.
“Don't,” he hisses, and Percy takes a deep breath before parrying him away. Luke spins to avoid another desperate attack, slicing into the stone column before Percy has a chance to react. The slice leaves another glowing mark on the rock, the barrier tearing open to reveal a swirling blue portal.
Percy takes a step away from the portal as it lets out a sound akin to a hiss, unprepared as Luke kicks him against the stone, cornering him right in front of the portal. Percy dreads finding out what it leads to, panic and adrenaline muddling his mind. Backbiter is pointed against him again, the blade inches away from his throat. Luke doesn't advance, as if trying to give Percy a chance to surrender.
Percy grits his teeth, steeling his resolve. He can't let Luke get through that portal, he can't. If Annabeth were there, she'd probably try and stall for time. Percy's absence in the celebrations would be noticed by someone eventually and they'd come searching. All he needs to do is hold his own long enough for that.
He charges forward, pushing Luke away before adjusting his grip on Riptide, his opponent backpedaling as Percy swings wildly. He knows he's no match for Luke, he just needs time .
His swings become more frantic as he ducks and searches for openings to attack and keep Luke occupied, his frazzled state only serving his unpredictability. He's already exhausted from trying to keep up with Luke, but he can't stop now. He ducks and slides across the floor to dodge a blow from Luke, catching an opening as the older half-blood steadies himself and slicing blindly at his arm, hoping he’ll be able to get him to drop his sword.
Luke staggers back with a pained grunt as Percy slices at the underside of his arm, immediately withdrawing as Luke turns away from him, hunched over and clutching his injured arm. Panic swirls in Percy's mind, guilt clawing at him. The tears threaten to return as he realizes he's actually hit him, blood spewing from the wound.
“I'm sorry -” he quickly stammers, forgetting about the battle and rushing closer to try and help his friend.. “I didn't- I didn't mean to-”
He only catches a glimpse of Luke's face, contorted in anger as he swings upwards in a vicious arc with Backbiter. Percy's knocked to the ground, landing on his shoulder as pain engulfs him. His breathing quickens, heart hammering in his chest as white hot agony flares from where Luke had slashed his face. He couldn't open his eye, his vision filling with crimson as he raised his hand to be met with blood. His fingers were coated in a deep crimson, the wound on his face stinging as he feels tears fall down his face in an uncontrollable stream, the taste of iron and saline heavy on his tongue.
He manages to look up at Luke, terror flooding his mind as his vision blurs. He tries to stagger back from the demigod, practically blinded by his own panic. Another firework goes off, bathing him and Luke in a harsh, bright red light. Luke's face falls as he seems to realize what he's done, still gripping Backbiter- now coated in Percy's blood- as he kneels down to his level.
“Percy,” his voice is uneven, a fruitless attempt by the son of Hermes to keep his composure in place. He tries to reach for him and Percy flinches, his heartbeat like thunder reverberating in his ears. Luke frowns, his features consumed with what a desperate part of Percy wants to believe is guilt. “I didn't-”
“Please,” Percy's gaze is fixed on Backbiter, Luke's skin turning white from how hard his grip on the hilt is. The sky lights up in a yellow flash, only further illuminating the blade. Luke could kill him if he wanted, plunge Backbiter into his chest or slit his throat. Percy should've known he had no chance. He feels lightheaded, blood still rapidly flowing from the now-mangled half of his face. “ Luke , please.”
Luke seems to notice Percy's focus on his blade, sheathing Backbiter and turning his attention back to him. Percy's limbs feel weak, his vision blurring into a crimson haze as he rapidly tries to focus on the older demigod. The son of Hermes has a deep frown on his face, panic in his eyes as he moves closer to Percy. “It's okay,” he says, and his voice is soft and comforting and for once sounds like him and Percy can't help but sob. Every instinct in his body screams at him to run, but against his better judgment he lets Luke get close enough to reach out and touch him.
He's careful, gentle as his hand hovers over the wound he caused, gritting his teeth as he studies it. Percy feels his heartbeat quicken, and Luke quickly tries to steady himself as he notices it too. “You're okay,” he insists, “I didn't- I'm not going to hurt you.”
Some part of Percy scoffs at that, wants him to scream that he already has been, but he practically chokes on the words, coughing as he tastes rust in his mouth. He can't help but feel small as Luke's hand settles on the nape of his neck, his touch light and careful, as if Percy is something fragile. He winces at the touch, and Luke's frown deepens.
“It'll be okay,” Luke speaks with what sounds like conviction, but even in his lightheaded state Percy doesn't miss the way his voice wobbles. “We-we need to go.”
“What?” Percy forces out the words even as his throat feels tight and dry, his voice a raspy, pained thing. Luke- was he going to force Percy through that portal? He knows he won't be able to fight back- not like this. He has no clue where it'll lead, what Luke's- Kronos’ plans for him hold. “N-no-”
“It's for the best,” the demigod insists, his eyes distant. “You- you'll understand, Percy. You'll see.” Luke sounds so confident Percy believes him for a moment, before shaking his head with a quiet sob. He doesn't want to take down Olympus, he wants nothing with the gods’ conflicts. A quiet but still-there part of him doesn't want to fight against his father. Luke frowns, a pitying look in his eyes. He moves his hand from the back of Percy's neck, shaking his head as he gently tugs Percy's arms, helping him struggle to his feet.
The world seems to spin under Percy's feet as soon as he stands, his knees wobbling as he sways, his legs threatening to fail him and send him falling back down to the forest floor. Luke is probably the only reason he doesn't fall, placing a hand across Percy's shoulder as he helps him stay upright.
Percy's head throbs with pain, and he can't help but lean into the support. His vision is swimming with black dots threatening to overtake his sight, the wound on his face sending waves of agony through his body. He feels small, smaller than he's ever felt as he lets Luke guide him to the portal. He feels more like a kid than ever as he allows himself to break, to accept the falsehood that was Luke's comfort. Every step feels like a dagger sinking deeper into his gut, guilt gnawing at him.
He wishes Annabeth were here- she'd know what to do, she wouldn't be so pathetic. Even Grover would've held his ground more than he did. Gods, he wishes his friends were here, he wishes he was anywhere but here.
An explosion ripples through the sky, flooding Percy's sight with orange. He looks to Luke, the son of Hermes framed by the light as he looks down at him, his gaze unreadable but holding undeniable warmth. Percy's chest feels tight, his head swimming with a whirlpool of thoughts slowly fading into an incomprehensible flood of words and sounds and hurt.
When they step through the portal, he welcomes the darkness unconsciousness brings, praying for a dreamless sleep.