Work Text:
Percy’s eyes snapped open as worry knotted his stomach. Something was wrong. The Poseidon cabin was dark and quiet, only the soft sound of the ocean waves on the beach could be heard. It seemed peaceful, but he could tell something was off. The air felt too tight, and his lungs couldn’t fully fill. There was a hole where something was supposed to be, but Percy couldn’t figure out what it might be.
Breathing shakily, he tossed the sheets off his legs, pulling off the shirt that clung to his body in cold sweat. He ventured out of the cabin quietly, searching for signs of a monster or something else that was amiss. Riptide was tucked into his pocket, but Percy could feel the ocean like it was coursing through his veins. He wouldn’t need his sword if he could help it.
Despite the looming feeling, Percy didn’t find anything along the border. There were no signs of distress throughout the construction sites of the new cabins Annabeth was building, nor signs of struggle in the woods. Everything seemed fine.
Wandering back into the central pavilion as the sun crept up the sky, Percy took his lonely seat at the Poseidon table. He was halfway through his blue pancakes when Malcolm’s face confirmed Percy’s worries. The boy’s eyes were swirling with guilt, sadness, and fear as they found the son of Poseidon already at his table. “Percy…” he trailed off, but it was enough.
The ocean churned angrily as Percy’s eyes darkened to a green that could haunt someone’s dreams. Calmly, too calmly, Percy glared up at the blue sky. “Bring her back,” he threatened slowly. “You have an hour to put her back by my side before I come up there and make you.” The sky rumbled, storm clouds filling the air as thunder clapped in the distance. “I don’t care, Zeus. Threaten me all you want. Bring her back.” He stood up, confidence radiating off of him as though he didn’t just threaten the king of the gods.
The wait was painful. Percy knew that they wouldn’t return his girlfriend within the hour, but he didn’t need to prepare anything for his trip to Olympus. Instead, he mounted Blackjack and took off towards New York, ready to deliver Zeus the exact smiting that the king seemed so keen to give his nephew. Nothing mattered. Percy didn’t care whether the gods lived or died. Had Kronos not been the worse option, Percy might have let them die, but instead he chose the lesser of two evils. And now someone had taken his girlfriend.
It was late October, and he and Annabeth had been visiting for the weekend to check up on the younger campers and the progress of the new cabins. It was supposed to be an easy trip. More campers had arrived since the end of the Titan War, and more were getting claimed, but he and Annabeth knew there was still work to be done. The gods didn’t give up that easily. But they had seemed to have come to an agreement after his request for child support. They weren’t good parents by any thought of the imagination, but they were better than they had been. It was progress, at the very least.
Apparently they wanted to ruin that progress by kidnapping his girlfriend.
Blackjack touched down in an alley down the street from the Empire State Building, letting Percy dismount before wishing him good luck. The pegasus took off again, leaving Percy on the busy streets of New York.
The boy didn’t stop until he entered the lobby of the building, cutting the cue of tourists. “Six hundredth floor,” he demanded to the balding man behind the desk.
“Sir, you have to wait—” the man started.
“Six hundredth floor,” he repeated, anger building. He was handed the key without any more words, and he snatched it without thanks. The ride up felt like an eternity, and he tapped his foot restlessly on the clean tile beneath his shoes, listening to the dull music playing just loud enough that he couldn’t block it out.
The doors dinged and slid open, revealing the city his girlfriend was so intent on rebuilding. He had seen her plans, and he knew that they were better than what they had now. And he would admit it proudly.
Instead of evaluating the golden building around him, Percy headed straight for the throne room, steps echoing loudly. They knew he was coming, but that was fine. He wanted them to know.
“Where is she?” he demanded as the doors were thrown open.
“Perseus Jackson has—” a bumbling man introduced as he walked in.
“I can see that. What can we do for you Mr. Jackson,” Zeus asked, voice tinged with boredom.
“You can give me my goddam girlfriend back. One of you knows where she is. I would suggest bringing her back now,” he warned, Riptide grasped in his hand, still in pen form.
“Do not threaten us, nephew. It will not end well for you,” the god returned, unaffected by the anger of the boy in front of him.
Percy’s eyes darkened impossibly more, fixed with a glare sharp enough to kill. He’d killed hundreds of monsters. What was one more? “I need her back.”
“Even if we wanted to help you, we don’t know where your little girlfriend is. Maybe if she was smarter, she wouldn’t be lost right now,” the king snarked. Percy’s sword extended and swung at Zeus’ hand before anyone could react. The king’s pinky fell to the ground, golden ichor dripping down his throne.
“For every minute that I stand here without her returned to me, the king will lose a finger,” Percy threatens, voice low with anger. The gods gulped. They had seen this side of Percy before. His loyalty was his fatal flaw, but none of it belonged to the gods. It belonged to the girl he was searching for. As long as she was on their side, they were safe from the wrath of the son of Poseidon. If she wasn’t… Then not even the Fates could save them.
They knew he would burn Olympus down for her. He has said as much on the quest for the golden fleece. It was only further highlighted by her disappearance to hold the sky, and when she took a knife for him during the battle. If she was gone because of one of them, then nothing could help them. There was nothing for them to pray to, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. They’d be reforming in Tartarus for centuries before they could beg for forgiveness.
Yet despite the everlooming threat of the boy in front of them, no one spoke. They were more scared of the boy than they were of Zeus, and they would much rather face his wrath, even if he lost a few more fingers.
Another finger hit the ground with a sickening squelch. The king couldn’t pull his hand back in time, though it looked like he couldn’t move it at all. Then the fear filled his eyes. Percy’s smirk was nothing like the boyish one they were used to. This one was cold, calculated, like he was enjoying the fear that was emanating from the gods. Maybe he was.
His eyes were trained on Zeus’, but he glanced down at the sky god’s wrist every few seconds, as though ensuring that it was still in the same place. It didn’t move. Percy made sure of that.
The minute passed in deafening silence as the gods remained too terrified to speak. The king lost his third finger.
“I will raze you all to the ground if you do not bring my girlfriend back,” Percy said, almost casually, as though he wasn’t controlling the ichor of the king of the gods. As though he wasn’t threatening immortal beings.
“Son,” Poseidon started, looking down at his offspring like he was a stranger. “We don’t know where she is.”
“Then find her!” he roared, voice echoing. “If you are the all powerful beings you claim to be, find her. I don’t care who’s fault it is. I don’t care that you want to place blame. I just want her back. Bring. Her. Back.”
He raised his sword again, preparing to sever another finger. “Okay,” Aphrodite interrupted, jumping up from her throne. She looked so like Annabeth, Percy had to blink to remind himself that she wasn’t. Annabeth was missing because of one of them.
All eyes turned to her, most were fixed with anger, though a few held surprise. “I can bring her back. I didn’t take her, but I can feel the love she has for you from here. I can find her for you.”
“Then do it.” Percy lowered his sword, eyes carefully surveying the gods for any signs of weakness and guilt. If there were any, they were buried beneath fear.
The goddess nodded before disappearing. The room went silent as they waited for the goddess to return, anxiety coating the room like a blanket. They didn’t have to wait long.
A moment later, Aphrodite returned with Annabeth in tow. She looked gorgeous, her natural hair poofing around her head like a halo, brown eyes finding Percy immediately. “Wise girl?” he asked, voice softer than it had been all morning.
“Seaweed Brain,” she whispered back. Without hesitating, she sprinted across the room, running straight towards him. He dropped Riptide with a clatter, catching the girl in his arms. Her lips found his, and it felt like home. No nectar or ambrosia would ever compare to the taste of Annabeth, and he was glad for it. “What happened?” she asked once they managed to pull away. Her eyes found the fingers laying lifelessly on the ground, darting up to the king who was now clutching his freed hand.
“They took you,” he offered darkly. “I got you back. They don’t get to touch you. Not now, not ever. It’s that simple.”
“They don’t get to touch you either,” she replied just as quickly. They had saved Olympus already. They chose the gods despite everything. Now they choose each other.