hi! i promise that the next chapters of my wips are in progress, but in the meantime enjoy the beginning of a Percy Jackson AU i will probably never write :)
i love the fic Misaligned Stars by FictionalDragonMother and have been binging the various Broken Pantheon AUs inspired by their fic for months. the concept wouldn't leave my head so i took a few minutes to type this up this evening, just to get it out of my system. there's a tag for the au on ao3, check it out!
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Unfortunately, Percy has become more than used to waking in strange places over the years. Not in a lewd way, of course, but the life of a demigod is bound to come with a laundry list of oddities. So, when he wakes to the sight of towering trees and soft moss, he’s not as surprised as some might expect him to be. In fact, Percy is more exasperated than anything. He should have known something less than pleasant was in store for him, he was overdue after all. His week had been too calm, gone too smoothly, it should have been the first sign that the Fates were planning to fuck with him.
So, Percy doesn’t scream or curse or shout. He sighs, sits up, and sends a prayer of complaint to his father. This is not so different from his usual morning routine, all things considered. He mentally complains to Poseidon when his coffee is too hot or he steps in a muddy puddle with his favorite sneakers. He decided long ago that every inconvenience in his life, big or small, leads back to the fact that Percy is a demigod. And whose fault is that?
Hey Dad. Good morning, and fuck your family. Tell Hera thanks for at least leaving me with my memories this time.
Percy shuts his eyes for a moment, mentally counts to five, then hauls himself to his feet.
He then decides that the yelp that leaves his lips is very manly, no matter what any eavesdroppers may have had to say about it. Percy would like to ask the hypothetical eavesdroppers what they would do when they stand up and their shorts fall down? He feels secure in his reaction, thank you very much.
Percy is quick to snatch his boxers from around his ankles, hiking them back up to his waist only for them to fall again as soon as he lets go. What the fuck?
He pulls the shorts up once more, this time keeping a firm hold on the waistband of them. Taking a deep breath, Percy finally takes a moment to look down at himself, at the clearing he has awoken in, at how tall the trees are and how close the ground is. The collar of his faded camp shirt is hanging off of one shoulder, the hem of it trying to fall past his knees if not for one of his hands holding up his boxers. His boxer shorts are too big, too long. He looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes in the grass beneath them. His feet have shrunk since he went to sleep. All of him has shrunk. Percy holds out his free hand, inspecting it closely. His scar from Luke’s scorpion’s bite is still there, stark white scar tissue standing out against his tan skin. Despite the existence of the scar that he’s had since he was twelve, Percy’s hand is much smaller than it was when he was bitten. He takes another breath, trying to slow the pounding of his heart as it echoes in his ears, blood pumping with adrenaline that wouldn’t be out of place on a battlefield, something Percy is unnervingly familiar with. His eyes burn, unwanted tears pricking from behind them. His lip trembles even as he sucks it between his teeth. Percy stares at his too small hand.
Hey Dad. Something’s wrong.
The prayer is nothing more than a thought, sent up to a god that claims to care about him.
“Dad, I’m scared.”
The prayer is whisper, voice shaky and much too young to have come from Percy. At least the Percy he had been when he fell asleep in Cabin Three the night before. This Percy is too small and too scared. This Percy feels stuck somewhere between a nightmare and a dream.
Between one second and the next, the clearing is engulfed in light, so bright that it forces Percy to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he has to crane his neck back to look up at the figure before him.
Poseidon stares down at him, much too tall and with too many fins. Percy drops his too big boxers and runs.
I’ve fallen back into pjo 😔 but this time for Apollo and Luke. I’ve got an Apollo design drawn up, but don’t really feel like posting it.
Instead I drew Luke from one of the best fics ever: “Misaligned Stars” by FictionalDragonMother. I legit binged the whole fic in like 2 days and it made me fall in love with Luke’s character (I was previously indifferent ab him)
This is from the 27th chapter, where Luke is fighting Typhon (in Nikolaos’s body). It’s not 100% accurate to the fic, but it’s what I envisioned as I read the scene.
Hey, I saw an idea on the Misaligned Stars server a few days ago where the BP gods could hear the prayers of the PJO demigods, and it's been on my mind ever since. Honestly, it's been years since I've written anything, and I'm so rusty — but I hope it's not too bad!
Zeus does not remember the moment when everything began. He was so used to foolishly imagining how it would be if he actually received a prayer like the one he had awaited for centuries that he no longer knew how to distinguish what was real from what was born from the desperate wishes of his own mind. However, he remembers clearly the instant he realized it was real.
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Oh heavens, how many cried out to him, how many departed without him even hearing — without even perceiving their pleas.
— Father...? Are you there, aren’t you?
It was in one of his rare moments of solitary rest that he heard her for the first time: a soft voice, almost childish — and Zeus hated knowing that, in all the years since he recognized her existence, he had never heard in it the tone of maturity. It was so human, so small, that he would have ignored it... if not for the familiar spark he felt in it. For she was like him. She was his.
Lightning ran through her voice, just as it ran through his. A child — alive, and old enough to know how to pray. How had he not noticed her before? How had he never found her? Why hadn’t the child’s mother prayed to him?
Zeus did not think — how could he? The child... his daughter. Above fate, she was his. And before he could reflect, he let his divinity be guided to the place where the prayer had been made.
But what he found was emptiness. A land uninhabited, as beautiful as Zeus remembered Hellas to be before Prometheus creations spread over it. Still, uninhabited. One could not feel there the presence of any soul, except for the small animals that fled, terrified, upon sensing the aura of the King of the Gods.
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It did not take long for Olympus to realize that its sovereign was not well. The skies over Hellas darkened like coal; not even a ray of sunlight — not even those launched by Apollo himself — could pierce the clouds formed by pure divine power, conjured by the youngest of the children of the Titan queen Rhea.
The only illumination left in the land of the Hellenes, besides the archaic human candles, were the lightning bolts of the Lord of the Gods — bright enough to light the entire sky, destructive enough that nothing survived where they touched.
Poseidon, one of the eldest sons of the ancient king of Mount Otris, was the first to arrive, followed by Hades, lord and guardian of the underworld. Upon entering the palace, what they saw was their brother kneeling on the marble slabs of his great palace on Olympus. Small lightning bolts ran across his body at impossible speeds; the great scar on his head — received after the birth of the Lady of Wisdom — seemed to shine as golden and radiant ichor dripped onto the marble floor, once perfect and now cracked.
— Where is she?
Zeus remained kneeling, repeating without cease a question that no one could answer, his face pressed against the shattered marble of his own hall, hands covering his head, as if he could prevent the world from collapsing upon him. The brothers felt when their king expanded his consciousness to the maximum he could, searching for something or someone.
— Brother... — murmured Hades, approaching. — What happened?
Zeus did not answer. The small lightning bolts still danced on his skin like worms of light. The air around him seemed suspended between two moments — one instant before chaos and another after absolute silence.
— She prayed. — that was all he said. — My daughter... prayed. And I heard her.
Hades stopped, and Poseidon held his breath in such a human way that, in another situation, his brothers would have laughed — but not now. Hades approached slowly before kneeling beside his brother.
— None survive, Zeus. None ever have. Not a single one. — Hades spoke with a paternal voice, his hand raised in a silent plea to touch his brother’s hair.
Zeus raised his eyes. The golden ichor dripped from the ancient scar on his forehead — a wound from ages past, reopened by present pain.
— But this one... survived. Enough to speak. Enough to know who I am.
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English isn't my first language, and I'm still far from fluent, so I used Google Translate a bit to translate from my native language to English, so it might have been a little dull, sorry about that ;(
By the way, I hadn't thought about who the voice might be, but it was probably a demigoddess from the Greek Golden Age.
Summary: A miracle came to Dionysus Bachanalias! Isn't the boy adorable? But where are his parents? Why is he alone? And why did no one tell the gods about him? (Nico just wants to go home)
this is a part one (that can be alse read as a oneshot) of my first longer fiction for PJO - Broken Pantheon AU inspired by Misaligned Stars, which you can also read here
The wine was sweet. It always was in these parts of Hellas, sticking to the tongue and lingering on the palate. A typical wine here. And yet, there was something different about it today.
It wasn't the way it was made or served, it wasn't the appetizers on the tables or the drugs in some of the drinks. Somehow, it was the whole night.
Something was wrong.
Dionysus felt it. He felt it even more than the trembling satyrs or nymphs glancing over their shoulders, noting it in the eyes of the mortals around him and the gazes of the servants clinging to him. As if seeking safety. He smiled. His Bacchantes' faith was as unwavering as ever.
How sweet.
He stood up and began to wander through the party. Despite the different atmosphere, everyone was dancing, singing, and chatting. Nothing bad could happen, such disruption was nothing to their god. He could feel their gazes on him. Wanting him, wanting to please him, entertain him, receive at least a little of his attention. He finished his cup of wine and continued walking.
In the corner, separated from everyone, almost hiding, sat a boy. Huddled, small, with dark hair and strange clothes. A child abandoned by his mother? Dionysus' blood boiled as he let out a low, dissatisfied growl. His mother had to be somewhere nearby, right? She could have lost herself in the center of his rituals, absorbed in the ecstasy and pleasure. But wouldn't she have left him with the leopards wandering around? Wouldn't she have asked one of the still-sober nymphs for protection? She should have known to entrust him to Hestia's care, closer to the hearth, warmth, safety, not on the fringes of the festivities- or perhaps this child didn't have a mother?
What kind of woman from Hellas would have done such a thing?
The boy turned his head toward him. Pitch-black, tired eyes stared at the god of madness himself.
Ah. So that's why the atmosphere was strange.
The boy-mortal, but... with power? With the power he felt on Olympus? So a god? A little godling-
"I'm sorry to interrupt, I didn't mean to come uninvited."-the godling spoke!
Dionysus stepped closer as the other stood up. He thought he was interrupting? Nonsense. Such a strange little wonder, frightening everyone around him, he was infinitely more interesting than the typical amusements in his party.
"No. Stay," he smiled slowly. "We don't often have guests like you. My father would be furious if I disrespected Xenia's rights."
"Doesn't Xenia require a home?"
"Bacchanalias are my home, child."
His eyes widened at that sentence. Had he only just realized who he was talking to? So he knew who Dionysus was. But the god didn't know him; everyone on Olympus would known if a new god were born. Why wasn't he informed of this small miracle? His mortal parent should have been praying, unless- unless the kid was hidden. But how did he end up here?
"I'd like to know more about my guest, little olive. You shouldn't be left unattended at such an age. What's your name?"
The god of madness gently grabbed his arm and pulled him toward his previous spot - the very center of the festivities. The Bacchantes moved aside, making way, but this time not with the flirtatiousness and playfulness he knew so well, but rather with a strange wariness toward the boy. No matter how the child tried to behave, the aura of death wrapped around him like a soft blanket.
A child of a chthonic deity, then?
"I'm Nico," he said softly.
"I'm Dionysus," he replied with a smile. "You must be aware, then, that the mysteries you're attending aren't... for children. I wonder how you ended up here. We're quite far from any large cities. Where are your parents?"
“I, well, I'm trying to get back home.”
“Alone?”
“My mum… well, both of my parents are in the Underworld now.”
Oh, what a beautifully evasive answer. Hermes would probably be proud of it. But Dionysus wasn't so easily fooled. Perhaps if he cared less. Perhaps if the wine was more tempting. But no, he felt the boy's calming breaths, like a novice actor on stage. Well, peace was the opposite of his domain, and he couldn't allow it.
Especially when such a ridiculously silly kitten had fallen into his hands.
So whose could he be? The claim was old and weak, wrapped in many others, though just as feeble. He felt Persephone's decayed presence, as if she might have noticed him once and then forgotten him. Which, honestly, didn't resemble the gentle, loving foster mother he knew.
He felt Thanatos's signs, as if he saw him but gave him a wide berth. He felt Hecate, though faintly, as if she casted bootleg spell on him once. He felt the twins, Healing and Hunting, as if they were somehow watching over this unknown boy. But they never mentioned him, especially Apollo, who would immediately boast if he met some strange, mysterious godling. Finally, he felt Hades's claim, tart but proud, wrapping itself around him and following him like a guard dog on a leash.
A very battered dog.
Starved. Abused.
And he also felt-
No.
He would have known.
He would have known about this boy if he would ever carve any kind of protection on him. And yet. Madness entwined the boy like a vine. He had to do something about it.
“How sad. Drunk your sorrows in wine then. You'll be cared for here, don't worry.” He ordered one of the maids to pour some wine. The one from his barrel. The one for special occasions.
“Lord Dionysus-”
“Just Dionysus”
“Sir, um Dionysus, there’s no need, actually, I should be going.”
“And where are you going, kid? You just arrived and you’re already refusing to let me have you at my celebrations?” He raised an eyebrow at the child’s squirming. A little trickster, eh? He’d probably earn Hermes’ blessing in time.
“No, it’s not like that, I’m traveling, I got lost, I’m trying to get back home-”
He felt a pleasant shiver of electricity run down his spine. Yes, now his father would know if the boy himself broke the rules of hospitality. Not that Dionysus expected any rude nonsense from the boy; Nico would rather run away than openly misbehave. He was a well-behaved child.
“And you need rest. I see how miserable you are.” (malnourished, frail, dehydrated, bruised- miserable is an understatement) “Now, drink, eat, and rest. Don't worry about the road for now, you're safe, and, let my father be my witness, you'll be welcomed.”
He was raised to be a well-behaved child.
Someone had to teach Nico how to speak to the gods. So his mortal parent, his deceased mother, probably, had taught him. She told him about the Olympians. But she hadn't prayed to his father. She hadn't tried to get his attention, she had hidden him.
And now? Why did she make him go to the Fate knows where? To go back to “home”? Where else would he find a home if not among other immortals? Dionysus felt his fury and madness mingling with his ihor. The murmurs turned into growls, His tail wrapped around the boy's ankles. He had to inform Olympus, he had to call Nico's father, he had to know more about him, he had to-
But he would tell him soon, right?
The boy stared into the goblet of wine. Dionysus had poured himself his own cup. He smiled at the nymphs nearby. His girls would keep an eye on the godling, but that wasn't the plan. He saw the child looking around for a way out. If he wanted to sneak away so badly, he had to let him loosen up a little. The god of wine was about to get bored with him.
He exchanged a few words with the bacchantes, soft murmurs, toothy smiles. One had very pretty auburn hair. He caught a lock, twirling it around his finger as she giggled. Somewhere in the background, satyrs began to play a softer melody…
He heard a clatter. The bowl of fruits fell to the floor. Nico stood like a deer in headlights. Dionysus rolled his eyes.
“If you want something to eat, choose whatever you like, kid.” He stepped closer to Nico, nonchalantly avoiding the dish, remembering to return his gaze to where the nymphs had been. Oh dear, they're gone, what a shame, oh dear, the evil god Dionysus can't get laid because of the little brat-guest and he's already bored, oh dear, oh dear. Come on, little olive, take the bait.
“How about a toast? To my little guest and his homecoming?” The godling smiled back sheepishly, "Sure,"
And there we go.
They clinked glasses, and the boy drank it all in one gulp. So, wine down, and Dionysus down, eh? He chuckled to himself. The boy was so impatient.
Nico frowned.
Did he recognize the taste?
The nectar wasn't easily accessible to mortals, but this wasn't the typical reaction to drinking it. Especially in such quantity.
Sure, chosen mortals, with the gods' permission, could enjoy the blessings of nectar and ambrosia. They drank and ate these heavenly foods, feeling warmth, relief, pleasure, bliss, and other feelings, until they finally burned alive from the excess. It was quite an amusement, watching such boastful fools believing themselves to be worthy enough. Even Dionysus, before his ascension, hadn't dared for such recklessness.
Nico, however... seemed to recognize it. And maybe even fear it. Instead of smiling radiantly at the warmth in his throat, he bristled, clutching the glass. As if he knew what could happen to a mortal if he drank too much.
As if he had only just admitted to Dionysus that he was not an ordinary mortal. After all, he had downed the entire cup in one gulp.
"You added-" the boy staggered and fell into his arms.
"Yes, yes, don't worry, the wine wasn't supposed to kill you, just heal you- and look, it's already doing it, don't you feel it, little godling?"
"I'm not-"
"You are. And I know you know that. That was a very nice little play, Nico, but as one of the Olympians, I must know everything about you. You're a miracle, you know?" He took the boy in his arms and sat on his seat, placing him on his lap. A brother, a cousin, a family member distant or close, Dionysus had to take care of him now. He felt his domain wrapping itself even tighter around the boy. If intoxication didn't force him to talk, he'd simply summon Hermes or Athena.
But for now, he'd play with his relative alone.
"I'm not... a miracle," he slurred, trying to move out of his grasp. What a cute, fussy kitty he is.
He’s good with alkohol, huh?
"Come on, I have to inform your godly parent that you're alive! Finally I won't be the second youngest in the family! Do you know how happy everyone will be? Pan will be delighted! We'll celebrate-"
“No!" The boy tried to squirm out of his grip. In his state, the little olive could hurt himself even more. Dionysus held his arms, preventing him from escaping. Finally, he calmed down and collapsed onto him yawning. “Mr. D, I want to go home.” Nico closed his eyes, sighing quietly. His brows stayed furrowed as Dionysus patted his head.
Well, “Mr. D” was a strange name, but it was indeed addressed to him. In some… distant way. But no, if he was going to be difficult, Dionysus had to be a little more assertive. Too bad, if he was going to keep running back to this false “home,” he had to hold him a little longer. Ambrosia would take care of his hangover tomorrow when they returned to Olympus…
He cupped the boy’s cheeks, staring at him fiercely. Madness was seeping into his mind like hungry maggots ready to eat Nicos’ brain. No, no, no, Dionysus wouldn’t destroy the boy, no matter how interesting this could be. He pushed aside his darker domain for a moment, in favor of the daze. He made sure the spell wouldn’t harm him permanently. And there you go, it's all over.
The boy opened his eyes and smiled goofily. He must have thought something funny since he started giggling for the first time.
"What, are you still going to tell me nonsense about home?"
"You have eyes like Pollux’ when he’s doing something dumb," he stated as if it were the most obvious thing. Dionysus smiled. And who could Pollux be?
The name tasted of strawberries, summer, and a strange, inexplicable compassion. He wondered who it was. Not that Nico would tell him directly; that wasn't how intoxication worked. But that didn’t bother the wine god much; Nico's babble was sweet.
"Thanks, and you have eyes like Hades's abyss-"
The boy gasped. "I didn't take father's eyes!"
Oooh. So he did know who his godly parent was. Not the best sight for his mother, then. "Oh, but I think you did, you're the apple of his eye, and here you are, running away from Hades-"
"I haven't been to Hades here yet. I have no reason to be. Well, maybe if Bianca- no, she's probably a butterfly or a worm now."
"You haven't been in Hades here yet?"
"Or maybe a deer? Or some sort of plant? It’s fine as long as it isn’t a dandelion I guess, Persephone turned me into a one once." So he wasn't in the Underworld, but he knew Persephone. Got it. Maybe he was hidden away by Demeter? But why would Demeter and Persephone hide him, especially from his family? And who could be Bianca? The name was struck with such sadness and longing…
"Eh, a dandelion's life isn't so bad, weeds are nice, Pan recently made a pipe out of one..." Nico narrowed his hazy eyes at that sentence. Why? He couldn't sober up so quickly, Dionysus had him in his grasp after all! The boy grimaced. "We all know you smoke pot, Mr. D, talking in code is pointless." Ah, bless his nonexistent heart. Well, if he was going to pretend to be someone else, he might as well make a spectacle of it.
"Nah I don’t"
"Yes, you do."
“No I don’t”
"Yes, you- ugh, Will can't stand next to you without complaining that the other campers will smell it, what are you thinking?"
What a strange brat. So many questions swirled in his head. Who was Pollux, Bianca, Will (longing, affection, love), what place in Hades’ domain was he in if it was "not this one," and what camp was he talking about? Why would Will complain about him? Satyrs were afraid of him, servants wouldn't dare… someone like Nico? But he was clearly confusing him with some "Mr. D," whatever that was. Maybe another pantheon? Some priest from a new rogue sect?
And why wasn't the kid praying to his father?
The little godling looked around the room and snuggled into the wine god's shoulder.
He must have felt eyes staring at him from all sides. "Hallucinations," mortals would say. “Madness,” Dionysus would admit.
He could feel energy being drained from the boy. The miracle was quite desperate to escape from his grasp. How tiring it must have been for him…
“Alright, don't be afraid, Nico, you're safe here as long as you're with me. We all just want to get to know you, you know? You must have been exhausted trying to find your way back to that camp, right? That’s that “home” of yours.” Nico sighed stubbornly.
“My home is wherever Will is.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. Unfortunately, Will isn't with you right now, so get some rest and I'll take you to the next best thing tomorrow morning. Olympus is quite-”
“I can’t go to Olympus! I-I have to go back-” Nico started squirming again, nudging Dionysus and grabbing his horns to pull him away. To no avail of course.
“Shhh, you can tell me about camp and your friends later. Sleep, little god, enter Hypnos' domain, you'll be safe here.” The boy's head fell back onto his shoulder, breathing slowly. Dionysus stared at the boy for a moment longer, combing his hair. He had to inform Olympus immediately.
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Did you like it? The next chapter is already on ao3!
I absolutely love your story about the broken pantheon; I've never seen anything like it and I love it so much.
Poor Hades, he was so happy watching his puppy until he realized it wasn't him the puppy was hugging. 😭😭😭☝
I also love the other stories about the Broken Pantheon, and I’m really glad you liked my version.
Yes, poor Hades. While I was writing it, I felt so sorry for him, and I even included that line of his from The Last Olympian. It was very painful to write. 😭
He was happy to find Nico, and in the end he’s crying when the mirror falls into the darkness of the pit, and the final scene is Nico happily going to Olympus with the other Hades. 😭❤️
Me sighing in disappointment as the Misaligned Star offshoots I've read don't have Grover also ending up in Alternate Ancient Greece and Pan taking one look at this boy trailing after Athena's girl and Poseidon's boy and instantly going Oh Cool, Child Aquired!
Someone needs to explore the potential here.
Then again I also want a MSAU where Percy is already the God of Demigods and is about to make it Alt!AG's entire problem when they try to steal his family.
