Percy is in Ancient Greece. Here the gods are at the height of their power, and Percy's golden blood sings freely and widely. Though, Percy's problems are far more than just the godly world this time, as Odysseus of Ithaca is both his captain and captor, and the son of Poseidon may have no choice but to become a monster to survive.
(Percy is in another musical?!)
The strings of fate snapped and frayed.
Falling in his hands like ashes.
Still one thread coiled around him,
Whispering in his ear like honey,
“Oh, powerful son of Poseidon.
Become what you were always meant to be.”
The thread entwined with his very soul.
The darkness of the Universe calling to him,
But phantom hands pulled him back.
His soul cradled by an unquantifiable entity,
Their webs of darkness and light
Interwoven into their very being.
Twin suns born and bursting in their might,
Burning his mortal sight.
They hissed out a great laugh,
Their voice echoing in his soul,
Percy felt the call of the sea. Water all around him, beneath him, humming like a siren to his senses. Percy’s eyes snapped open, his eyes reflecting the pure green grecian waters around him. The sea salt on his tongue, and divine power in the air. More divine and alive then Percy ever felt before. Swelling like a hurricane. But the ocean remained completely, unnaturally still. Only a god could command such.
Urgently Percy rose. Panic entwined with his very being as the waves of fear crashed into him, as unfamiliar surroundings awaited him. Percy’s eyes went wide, his blood still as the ocean surrounding him. He breathed in, allowing his senses to flood outwards. Feeling the call of the sea around him, and to the vessel he was on. He was on a ship, surrounded by numerous more, but the odd thing was that the ships were made completely of wood, hardly any metal to be found.
It wasn’t even like the son of Ares’, Blackbeard’s, ship.
Where was he? Dread filled his being, panic gripped his heart, and he stumbled quickly out from the ship’s belly. He instinctively knew where to head. While he ignored the men he crossed. Still he saw the way they dressed, in clothes too old for modern times, clothes that he only saw the gods wear occasionally. Perhaps it was all just a reenactment, a cruel joke for people to play, but he knew. He knew his luck was never that good. He knew.
Percy at last reached the outside, sunlight blinding his eyes. He closed his eyes, and it was in that moment he heard a dark but familiar voice whisper in the waves, and yet it echoes through all of the ocean’s watery domain, “Die.”
The ocean was then released, unrestrained and free. The sky grew stormy, the dark grey entrapping the ships like a tomb. Rain cascaded down relentlessly. Power calling on the sky and on the water. The power to drown hundreds of men whether through the storm or sea.
Then, Percy heard screams, the deaths. He snapped. He needed to save these people. But he still hesitated. Wouldn’t he be a monster if he let go of his powers, if he let his blood ignite and let go? She would think him a monster.
No, Percy won’t let these people die just because he is scared to use his powers. How could he call himself a hero if he let these people die? Just because she was scared of him using his powers.
Thus, Percy let his basin of power swell into him, he called the water into his blood and into his soul, and he commanded the sea and storm to stop.
Except it wasn’t enough, the unknown god fought against his control. Merciless upon Percy’s struggle, but still Percy held on. He didn’t want to see more people die, he couldn’t handle their screams. Percy pushed himself more and more, commanding the water in the sea and sky to be released from the god’s control, and to remain calm.
Percy thought he heard himself scream, warmth filled his very veins and the basin of his power grew. His knees fell to the ground, and his palms hit the wood splintering with blood. He felt his very blood fight against itself as if on fire. He was burning from the inside out.
Still Percy held on, he pushed on with his powers and with his final might, light from his divine power already starting to blind him. Gold filled his vision with unquantifiable power. Yet Percy forced himself up to his knees, blood pooling out of his nose and eyes, if this was his last stand, at least he could save one man. To be the hero he was meant to be.
“STOP!” Percy commanded the water in his last desperation, his voice the unrelenting siren call of the sea, his voice echoing to the water’s depths. He is the son of Poseidon, prince of the seas and storms. The sea and the storm are his domains! Percy felt more powerful than ever in the heart of the sea and storm, and he wished for the waters to hear him.
And so the ocean and storm did, they heard the boy’s call, so desperate and young. Death started to mark the boy’s pure soul, starting to take him away before he could grow into his powers, but the ocean and storm would never allow that, for one so promising to never return.
The storm loves one so powerful and raw and chaotic, and they would let the winds of themself still before they let go of such potential.
And the ocean, well, they have always been possessive. Even if the sea took his bones and blood, holding it as a treasure in their depths—his soul, his thoughts, his potential would be gone.
The sea and the storm was alive in more ways than anyone ever knew, its pure and raw and unpolluted in these ancient times. Thus, the storm became the soft lullaby of rain, while the sea’s roaring waves ebbed to a soothing rocking as they cradled the godling in his wooden cradle ship, their waves rocking the boy gently. Willing to boy to let his power flood into the sea and storm, for the fire in his blood to ebb away.
The storm and the ocean knew the boy’s blood belonged to them. The storm in his soul and being, unrelenting of any who dare harm what is theirs. His blood, the sea, freedom and passion singing in his veins, as he lets the rhythm of the waves be their own, fighting any who chooses to control them beyond their will. Oh, but they’ll let him command their waters, he is already the favored of the storm and sea after all.
And the storm and the ocean will always keep what was theirs and will take and take and take until the world is consumed for those whom they’ve claimed. For what belonged to the sea would always return. And while the storm will pass, its claim will forever outlast.
Thus, the storm and the ocean infused the boy’s mortal blood with their very essence. The ocean swelled gently and the storm cleared happily when the boy took their essence so easily, so naturally. He was theirs, theirs to take, and nothing would separate the boy from them now.
Percy truly thought this was it. The final stand for the son of Poseidon, except he blinked the pure golden light out of his vision, as the fire cooled in his blood, he felt the ocean comforting waves around him, and the soft pitter-patter of rain instead of the powerful divine wrath of a god’s control of them.
The sea and sky felt so peaceful, and he felt at home with the rain and waves.
Percy breathed in deeply, taking deep breaths of the salty air, calming down as he still sat on his knees. He could finally breathe. He felt tears of pure relief swim in his vision, and the adrenaline of the fight started to leave him, his senses numbed to only himself and his pounding heart beat, and the agony in his body.
This was short lived however when his hair was harshly yanked up, his head tilted and his throat exposed, as an object Percy was all too familiar with made it across his throat, the cold metal glinting harshly in the sunlight.
“Leave Poseidon, or watch your son die.” The man holding a knife to his throat threatened out to the sea.
Percy glanced up bewildered as much as he could with a knife to his throat. There’s no way he was just fighting his dad. His dad was chill, well mostly chill. To Percy’s surprise when he looked up to the man threatening him, he saw a handsome man maybe in his mid thirties and about Leo’s height, but more well built, with light tan skin and light brown hair, and calculating dark eyes, and wearing an old-timey white dress like Percy saw on people earlier.
Percy grimaces, his thoughts racing to earlier when he stumbled, practically running to the deck and ignoring all the strange things going on. Percy didn’t want to think of the implications. It wasn’t possible. It was, Percy just didn’t want to accept it.
Percy gulped, the knife on his throat uncomfortably close to drawing blood, and he wanted to fight back more than anything, but his exhausted body and mind protested the very thought. He was powerless right now.
Then, from the sea a man—no, a god—materialized like water vapor into flesh and blood upon the ship Percy was on. Percy knew instinctively that this was his father, the god of the seas, Poseidon. Now that his father was close enough, Percy could sense their shared divinity, the smell of the sea and the storm blaring in Percy’s exhausted senses.
It was only by this that Percy could even tell that this was Poseidon, for he didn’t look like his dad. No, this Poseidon still had black hair, yet it was blue in the sun, like black ice unthawing, reaching down his back, straight as the frigid waters he just commanded, and a long straight beard to match.
Not like the dad that he knew with a short trimmed beard, and who shared Percy’s black hair that curled at their shoulders and warmed in the sun. Nor their shared ocean eyes, their eyes mostly of the peaceful green seas unless their emotions commanded. Just as this Poseidon, whose eyes narrowed in rage, and were dark blue almost black orbs like that of the deepest depths of the ocean—willing all those around the sea god to drown.
Even this Poseidon’s skin was different, his is the color of sea foam like the final death of an ocean’s remains, instead of the golden bronze that Percy is used to from his dad’s and from his own skin. Tan because his dad has been from sailing and fishing out in the sun for days, or skateboarding and questing in Percy’s case.
This Poseidon with death in his gaze, and a possessive fury that Percy has only seen on his father once before. It was when Percy decided to sit on his godly throne to gain his attention to kill Typhon.
This Poseidon was staring straight at Percy, and his unwavering gaze was still as ice.
It gave Percy chills and he had to look away. It was so unnatural to see his dad like this, so different from the constant shifting expressions and unbound movement like ever changing tides. A lot like Percy in that respect. Surely this was still his dad though, and he still cared about him, even if he looked and acted completely different.
Maybe this is just another Neptune situation, but instead of the Romans it could be a Mycenaean form such as Posedao or Posedawone.
Yeah, that must be it. Though Percy’s gut disagreed.
Anyways, Percy knew of Posedao because he may or may not have wanted to look up why he was so comfortable in the underworld as a son of the sea god. Then, what came up was Posedao who was god of the Underworld and Seas, and also the King of the Gods. Percy wonders what Zeus was at the time, obviously not king, ha. It doesn’t make Percy smile though, he feels so lost and confused, and he can’t even ask these questions lest he bring unwanted attention to him and his powers.
Percy had to stop looking after a bit anyways. Even as it left him with more questions than answers about his origins.
Looking at myths involving his dad was always uncomfortable, and also hurt his brain and eyes to read with some random wiki page with his severe dyslexia. Still Percy wanted to avoid myths involving his dad as long as possible, before he comes across more weird bloodthirsty half siblings he’ll inevitably have to fight. Before he reads how much of a monster his dad was in the myths.
Or the situation with this scary Poseidon could be that his dad was trying a new look, since Percy knew that gods could change their appearance at will. Speaking of, why did Percy even look so much like his dad (not the scary one) when gods don’t have DNA, let alone have a set appearance? Though Dad did say Percy looked an awful lot like his mom when he visited (seeing as Percy was slim and not built like a trunk like dad, and Percy has more soft, angular facial features rather than stern).
Surely, even if none of what Percy is wishing was not true, and this was somehow the past, Poseidon wouldn’t be that different from his future self. His dad didn’t actually act like he was depicted in the myths, they were just exaggerations. That his father wasn't a monster.
Percy shakes his head, stupid ADHD, now's not the time to dwell on such things, and get distracted by having a long inner monologue that probably only lasted a minute.
Percy focuses back to reality.
Percy sees the scary Poseidon grin sharply with teeth like a shark’s, his voice deep as the trenches, “Go ahead and kill my son then, Odysseus, and be merciful to yourself.” Poseidon’s dark eyes never even glanced at Percy as he condemned him.
Percy looks down heartbroken, not even acknowledging the final condemnation of the Ancient hero’s name—Odysseus—that he truly is stuck in the past.
His dad would really just let him die like that. Wouldn’t fight for him whatsoever.
Fury and pain lit in Percy’s eyes, and Poseidon’s grin sharpened when the waves became a bit more choppy.
Poseidon’s new son was already proving himself powerful and would be a wonderful asset for the god to have. Too bad Odysseus needed to learn his lesson first. Poseidon knew he would be too weak to land the killing blow, and that's when Poseidon would finally show true ruthlessness and teach this son the same.
Sure enough, Odysseus’ hands shake and he releases the boy from his grasp, taking the knife away from the boy’s throat.
“Fine then,” Odysseus whispered in a false cheerful voice like he already had another escape plan ready.
Just as Poseidon was approaching Odysseus, the god's hand reaching out like a predator about to feast on their prey. Odysseus steals his nerves and he glares at Poseidon and loudly proclaims so all could hear his brilliant plan, “All I have to do is open this bag!”
Then, all the winds of the world released upon the god and pushed him away, allowing the ship to begin sailing far from the angered sea god.
The wind’s were high and sung in Percy’s ears, sounding like a melodious choir that was either singing for his salvation or demise. It was much more divine and powerful than what Hermes once gave to Percy. Percy could only hope that as the winds sailed Oddyseus’ ship away that Percy would be able to survive and could get home from the past.
But will he become a monster the longer he stays? Already Percy has pushed his powers beyond what he thought possible, again!
Just like he did when he controlled poison. Some things aren't meant to be controlled!
I am your darkest moment.
Percy’s secret inner thoughts:
Sees scary Posiedon having beef with Oddyseus, and Oddyseus is glaring back, ‘Is it just me, or are they giving bitter ex vibes? Hmm, not quite. I bet Oddyseus rejected scary Poseidon. The god looks downright murderous. Yeah that checks out.’ Percy nods to himself.
‘Gods don’t take rejection well. Hades! Zeus closed the whole of Olympus after I rejected immortality. Ha, Talk about not knowing how to handle rejection.’
Percy grimaces, ‘I may have also rejected other advancements from gods. Don’t ask about it, you don’t want to know.’
