At first…there was fury, at his father, because he left and at his mother because she didn’t blame him.
“He had to leave, Percy.”
Percy’s mother knew how to love a god. Knew it didn’t last.
It did. For Poseidon still loved Sally long after she found someone else, grew old and died. When the town in which they met was nothing but ruins buried deep under ground.
Deeper still was her soul, in his brother’s hold.
Later came a fury, wings and teeth and bad smell, searching for something he didn’t have.
Percy is not human. He might be half god/half human but he is not half person. There is no god part of him, or human part of him. There is only Percy, a demigod. Demigods have their own rules. No one expects them to be gods or mortals. They are supposed to be heroes.
His father never raised a hand on him but the sea rose on the world instead.
The waves rose, rose, rose until you couldn’t see the sky and even Zeus was powerless to calm his brother down.
Percy heard screams but he did not know where they were coming from. He was too busy watching his father to wonder about them. He would learn later that Poseidon’s rage took lives-
drown, drown, drown
-but all he saw was calm in his father’s eyes.
Later that night, his mother watched the news and they reported the death toll. Percy froze, remembering the screams. It was the first time he truly understood that you should never ever anger a god.
He stayed away from the sea for a while. Not too long because he dreamt of-
blue, blue, blue
- and could smell it no matter where he was.
When he hesitantly-
oh so hesitantly
-stepped into the sea again it spoke welcome and home and where were you.
Percy was not sure who spoke to him, his father or the sea. Maybe both. His father was more than just an entity living in the sea and commanding it. Sea was a part of him. It was a part of Percy too.
He didn’t know whether to slump down in relief or cry because the moment he touched the water the screams rang louder and his blood sang. He felt exhausted and powerful all at once.
He sat in the water and it gentled around him. He could feel his father’s concern. But Percy had no words to explain what it feels like to be both a mortal and a god at the same time.
Poseidon is a god. It is his right to do what ever the hell he wants in his domain. His father is not human and he can’t be held to human standards.
Percy is not human either.
Percy was born to be a hero.
No one is born a hero.
Percy doesn’t know how he is supposed to be one when he felt the sea take sacrifice and it felt right. Heroes shouldn’t-
It’s too late for Percy to become a hero. After the lightning bolt, he already is.
Sometimes, Percy wondered…
If the fury never came, what life he would have led?
He met Julia when he was twenty, married her five years later and ten years after that they had two cars, a house with a white picket fence, three children and a dog. He’d tell them that there are no monsters under the bed.
But there were.
And his own scream would wake him up. He’d open his eyes to the world in which there is no Julia and no children and blood splattered walls, only Anabeth and Grover and a new quest.
And he’d cry. Grover would avert his eyes and Anabeth wouldn’t ask.
It took him a while to learn that if it had not been a fury it would have been a hydra, a manticore or something entirely else. No child of a big three can pass of as human, not for long.
They meet their end quickly. Monsters do not care that their pray are children.
Oh, they care. Young blood and all that…
The Fates, Moirae, he would later learn
- had something else in store for him.
Clotho spun, Lachesis measured…
Atropos wouldn’t cut.
And she knew how.
An old woman between trees cuts a thread with shears and Anabeth falls. It takes Percy a moment to understand. By then, it’s too late.
Actually, it’s been too late since the third night after Anabeth was born. They just didn’t know it.
Foolish children, Zeus thought but never said. He knew that there were some things even he shouldn’t say. Besides, Zeus has seen the eyes of Moirae when they cut his demigod children’s life threads.
He never should have agreed that Hades gets the Underworld.
Few years after his first dream, Percy saw his Julia. In a bookstore, holding a book he never got the chance to give her but remembers doing it anyway.
He ran and never looked back. The dreams stopped.
He asked Hypnos why, but all he said was “You can’t have them back”.
Percy hadn’t realized that he wanted them, until then.
A monster charges at him. It’s fast and strong but Percy’s blood thrums with exhilaration. With Anaklusmos in his hands he strikes and monster-blood sprays his face.
He stands there for a few minutes, a monster dead at his feet, and rides the high.
And if, when he is somewhere quiet and dark and safe, he wishes he had a different father-
not a god
-or a different mother
someone who didn’t fall for a god
-it never lasts long.