Chapter Text
Part I: Lay Me Down In Ash Again
Percy allowed Hera to pull him to sit on the nearby bench, watching his aunt's face curiously, nervously. He had never seen her like this before, oddly unsettling yet with a determined edge to her gaze. He hadn't thought the Queen of the Gods could appear fearful.
The goddess ran her hands through his hair, neatening his mess of waves and curls. Percy looked up at her, knowing that what she had to say would inevitably change the course of his life more than his forced and unwanted ascension already had.
"Why me?" he asked, curious. He'd always assumed Hera didn't care for him and found himself somewhat bemused that she had sought him of all people out.
Hera smiled. Percy thought she looked as if she were about to cry. "You're somethingnew," she told him, voice insistent. "Things are changing—you've sensed it, as have we all. Yet, there are things you still do not understand."
He raised his eyebrows at her, amused that he seemed to be told next to nothing even as a god. "Like?"
"There is another Camp," she said bluntly, face blank. "A Roman one. There are more than just us Greeks who've survived the ravages of time. There has been too much violence for you to know of one another, but that must change.”
Percy tilted his head back, eyes wide. He wasn't sure what he'd expected Hera to say, but it hadn't beenthat. "There's a what?" he asked, breathing quickly. Several of his domains responded to his emotions, and he quickly brought them to heel. He refused to hurt anyone because he was emotional. He'd seen the havoc his fellow gods could wreck, uncaring that they left carnage and suffering in their wake.
He would never allow himself to do that. He would never be a figure for mortals and demigods to fear. He would remember his mortality, remember the terror of approaching death and pain.
"Why didn't they help?!" he demanded, angry now, thinking back to the war and all the demigods who had died. "So many of us died!"
Hera nodded, eyes shockingly kind. She looked near tears. "They did," she told him. "They fought their own battles, though none quite like yours, Perseus." She paused, eyes still affixed on Percy's face. He refused to look away, refused to allow her that victory. "Would you like to see them?"
Percy laughed. "Do they know I exist?" he asked, unsure of what he wanted her answer to be.
"No," she murmured. "But they know something is different—your ascension has changed things more than anyone could have anticipated."
Hera stood, not bothering to brush the creases from her gown, and drew Percy to his feet. "Come," she said, something oddly maternal and tragic in her ancient gaze. Percy wondered if his eyes would ever look like hers, old and sorrowful and full of pain. "You have much to learn."
———
"California?" he asked, closing his eyes and reaching out to his domains to get his bearings. He could sense San Franciso Bay nearby and the fault lines that ran through the region. He wondered if part of the reason Annabeth had never been comfortable here was due to how close to the Romans it was. That had to have affected her, in some way. She was so very Greek.
"Indeed," Hera said, a firm hand on his shoulder.
Percy opened his eyes. "We're in your temple?" he asked, amused, looking at the ornate mosaics decorating the towering walls.
"Yes," the goddess said.
Percy looked up at her, noting how her face had changed ever so slightly. She harsher, perhaps. Colder and less wild.
She tilted her head to the side, watching him carefully. "It's Juno, in these lands," she told him. "That is what the Romans worship me as."
Percy nodded as if in a daze and walked out of her temple without bothering to explore it further. He wanted to see this new Camp and know what had been kept from him even after his forced ascension. He thought back to his vague memories of the Roman gods, the lessons he's mostly ignored in school. None of them had been interesting to him—the only teacher who'd managed to maintain his curiosity had been Chiron.
He walked to the edge of the hill, breathing quickly now. This was no Camp Half Blood, full of children and nothing more, many of whom left Camp never to return. Instead, Camp Jupiter was a thriving city full of life. He could see families, cheerful cafes, and more. The people were happy here. Safe.
He looked back at Juno, hands shaking in a mix of rage and hurt. "Why?" he demanded. "Why show me this now?"
She took several steps forwards, stopping close enough that Percy could feel the power crackling underneath the surface of her skin. He looked back out to the bustling town, torn between the urge to scream or cry for what could have been.
"There is a new threat on the horizon," she told him bluntly. "You heard the prophesy yourself."
Percy closed his eyes, face screwed up in a frown. He half wanted to leave the Roman Camp and never return, and half wanted to run to the town and mingle with the people. "I did," he agreed. "I thought it would take years to happen, though. Centuries."
"Not this time," Juno replied, sounding almost sad.
He sighed, wishing he could have had a modicum of peace before being thrown into yet another prophecy. "Of course not." Then, "why have we been kept separate? You mentioned violence, but…" he trailed off.
Hera… Juno, made a noise that might have been a sigh. "There has been too much death and division," she said. "But no longer. Wemustunite in order to survive. You are the key, nephew. You will help them, and help us."
Percy looked back at Juno, eyes wide. "They know something is wrong," he said, frowning.
"That they do. They know something has irreversibly changed," Juno said, staff held lightly in one hand. "You are that change, Perseus. You have changed fate itself."
"I'm Greek," he said faintly, ignoring the roaring in his chest, the pull the Roman demigods and legacies had on the very fibres of his being.
Juno stepped forwards. "Your father is Greek," she countered, one hand back on his shoulder. Percy didn't know if he wanted to lean into the touch or tear himself away. "You are something new, Perseus. There hasneverbeen a god like you before. You've terrified us all." She paused, allowing Percy to watch the thriving city. "You're going to change us all. I just do not know if you will change us for better or for worse."
He looked away.
Juno moved in front of him and cupped his chin in a hand, looking at him with what he could only assume to be pity. "I must leave," she said. "Come seek me out once you have explored your fill. See that the Romans are not so different."
Percy snorted and watched her fade away, taking in the faint look of fear on her face, before turning back to New Rome.
He wanted to fall to his knees and weep and scream for the life he and those he loved could have had. The Romans, despite the vague nerves he could sense flowing through them all, were content. They were safe. He could see children—grandchildren of gods—playing in the streets, older demigods haggling for goods, and various other denizens making their way through the city.
This was what Camp Half Bloodshouldbe.
Percy loved Camp, loved Chiron, and loved the demigods he'd trained and grown with. But he had always known they had been fleeting. Mayflies. They were not meant to survive.
The Romanswere.
He wandered down from Temple Hill, only barely remembering to disguise himself with the mist. He hoped it would hold—even as a god, he wasn't good at manipulating it. His father suspected he would learn in time, but Percy wasn't so sure. He only seemed to be able to use it well when it was used to protect others.
"Are who are you trying to get into my city?"
Percy turned to the marble statue, surprised. He let the mist drop, thankful no one else was around. He wasn't sure he would be able to cope with a demigod, no matter how well meaning, questioning him.
"I'm new," he said dryly.
The statue stared at him, surprise warring with suspicion in his gaze. "I don't know you," he said, angry now.
Percy shook his head. "I don't…" he trailed off. "Juno brought me here," he finally said. He didn't know why, but he wanted to hoard his identity close to his chest, keep it safe. He was a god, yes, unwilling as his ascension may have been, and he was Greek. They had been the ones to help him and love him. And, he suspected telling anyone here he had been born a Greek demigod may not be wise.
The statue (border guard, some small part of Percy's mind whispered) grunted. "You're no demigod," he stated suspiciously.
Percy shook his head, laughing slightly. "I won't hurt them," he insisted. He looked back towards the city, suddenly needing to walk among the people.
God of Demigods.
"Aunt Juno brought me here," he said, deciding to forgo respect for familiarity. He knew Hera, at least, preferred that from him, and he didn't particularly care if Juno did not. "We spoke on Temple Hill for a while," he added. "I'll go back there soon—I want to see my dad's temple—but I wanted to see them first."
The border god snorted. "Who are you?"
Percy smiled, finally looking away from the city. "God of loyalty, fault lines, riptides," he said. "Demigods." He purposely made no mention of fate and prophecy. He could deal with the domains he could work with, those he had direct control over, but he hated having vague visions of what could be.
"There was rumbling of someone new," the other god said, still sounding angry. Percy decided he liked him.
He laughed. "That would be me."
"God of demigods, eh?"
Percy nodded, meeting the statue's eyes. "I am. I won't hurt anyone. They won't even know I'm here unless I want them to."
"Fine! Leave your weapon here, though. I'll be watching you, little godling."
Percy laughed but complied, setting Riptide down on the statue's pedestal. It wasn't like he needed a sword to defend himself, and he knew his weapon would return to him the moment he called for it, regardless of where he was.
He entered the city without looking at the other god, dismissing him from his mind.
The people here were happy, and something about their joy made Percy angry. They deserved joy and peace, but so did the Greeks.
Hera—Juno—was correct. This division was wrong, even though he didn't understand why it existed at all.
He stopped near a mostly empty square, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth in an effort to keep himself calm. When helping train him, Apollo had always laughed when he'd done this. They were gods, after all. They did not need to do something as mortal asbreathing. But Percy liked the reminder of his recently departed mortality. It reminded him that, regardless of his powers, he had been born and nearly died as a human. He would never forget that.
A red ball rolled to his feet when a child kicked it too far. Another child—a little girl with sparkling eyes and a wide smile—immediately darted after it. Percy picked the ball up, allowing the mist to drop, no longer caring to hide. He would not conceal himself from those he wanted to protect.
"Can I play with you?" he asked softly.
She blinked, then grinned, showing off a missing tooth. Percy knew she likely sensed something was different about him, but she was too young to focus on it and try to figure out that she was talking to a god. Percy smiled back.
"Yes, please!"
He stood, taking her small hand in his, and allowed the demigod to pull him towards her friends, letting their joy and innocence calm him.
He would need to speak to Juno again, and further explore the town, but that could wait. For now, he had children to play with and protect.
