Chapter 27: Time to Settle the Scores
It's remarkably fascinating how humans can wrap their minds around things and fit them into their version of reality. Chiron had told them that long ago like he did whenever he had to explain the Mist. As usual, Percy didn't appreciate his wisdom until much later.
Albert on the other hand, was more educated in the workings of the Mist, now more than ever. Even without the Mist, humans tended to avoid looking at what made them feel uncomfortable or hopeless. They were naturally stubborn creatures.
He wasn't excluding himself from the narrative, to be honest, but he grew up in a big city, surrounded by the so-called high society who could live great lives in luxury without sparing a single stray glance at their workers who had to take maybe two to three buses just to arrive at their job on time full of dreams most of them would never truly get to achieve. Percy grew up in New York City, so he was familiar with social disparities too.
The Mist was just another layer, an imposed one, but humans were masters of creating their own to fit the world to their narratives.
According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the beach had been caused when a crazy unidentified kidnapper who fired a shotgun at a police car. He accidentally hit a gas main that had ruptured accidentally nearby.
This crazy kidnapper, also known as Ares, was the same man who had abducted Percy and three other adolescents in New York and brought us across the country on a nine-day odyssey of terror.
Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal after all.
He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get away from his captor and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—"Why didn't I remember him before?". The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, got a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson (I was beginning to like this kid) had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, three police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his friends were safely taken into police custody.
The reporters loved this whole story. While the kids just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard really hard in their situation), and played victimized kids for the cameras. It was easy when they actually felt like victims.
"All I want," Percy said, choking back tears, "is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew... somehow... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful country with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number." The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for three tickets on the next plane to New York.
Percy and his friends knew there was no choice but to take a plane and fly back to New York City. The boy hoped Zeus would cut him some slack, considering the special circumstances. But it was still hard to force himself on board the flight when he felt like he was almost attempting to end his own life by doing so.
The takeoff was a nightmare.
Every spot of turbulence was scarier than the Greek monsters he had gotten used to fighting in the past week. He didn't unclench his hands from the armrests until we touched down safely at La Guardia. The local press was waiting for us outside security, but we managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" then rejoined them at baggage claim.
They split up at the taxi stand. Percy told Annabeth and Grover to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened and asked Albert to come with him to Olympus. They all protested, and it was hard to let them go after all we'd been through, but he knew he had to do this last part of the quest by himself at least. Albert eventually agreed bitterly after he used his trump card (puppy eyes and the sacrifice card). If things went wrong if the gods didn't believe him... he knew Albert was the best option to convince them, and he wanted Annabeth and Grover to survive to tell Chiron the whole truth.
The two boys hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan. Thirty minutes later, I walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building. They must have looked like homeless people, with their tattered clothes and dead tired faces. He hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours, living for the moment the quest was finally completed.
Percy went up to the guard at the front desk and said, "Six hundredth floor."
The guard was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front, a special Lord of the Rings edition. Percy wasn't much into fantasy, but the book must've been good because the guard took a while to look up. "There is no such floor, kiddo."
"We need an audience with Zeus."
The guard gave them an odd and vacant smile. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"You heard me," The boy said impatiently.
Percy was about to decide whether this guy was just a regular mortal or something else, and he'd better run for it before he called the straitjacket patrol.
The guy shot them apprasing looks of distrust, "No appointment, no audience, kiddo. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced. Sorry, but it's protocol."
"Oh, I think he'll make an exception," Percy said as he slipped off his backpack and unzipped the top. The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds.
Then his face went pale. "That isn't..."
"Yes, it is, Mister," Albert interjected in impatience. "You want us to take it out in the middle of everyone and—"
"No! No! No! Don't do that, please." The guard scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to Percy with an apologetic look. " You just gotta insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you two. I wish you a good time."
Percy scoffed in annoyance but did as he was told.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, the boy slipped the key into the slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a red one that said 600. he pressed it and waited, and waited. The doors slid open. They stepped out and almost had a heart attack.
"What the fuck?"
They were standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air.
Below them, Manhattan stood, from the height of an airplane. In front of them, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. Their eyes followed the stairway to its end, where their brain just could not accept what they saw fully. It was weird, very weird.
Took another look, Percy's brain said. He was looking like his eyes insisted on obeying. It's really all truly... there.
From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with small layers of pure white snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled smaller and bigger palaces—like a huge city of ancient Greek mansions and temples—all with white marble-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires that brought life to otherwise... an otherwordly sight.
The roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace, a colossal structure that felt like the antithesis of Hades Palace back in the Underworld, gleamed against the shimmering snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rose bushes. The boys could make out an open-air market-like section filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome, and a coliseum on the other.
Olympus was like an Ancient Greek city and a historical wet dream, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, clean, immaculate, and colorful. Beautiful in a way that was hard to describe. In the way, Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago in the best version of it.
This place can't be real, they both felt. The tip of a mountain hanging over New York City like a billion-ton asteroid? Another dimension? How could something like that be anchored above the Empire State Building, in plain sight of millions of people, and not get noticed? Magic was crazy.
But here it was. And here I was.
Their trip through Olympus was a dazzling experience. The two boys passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me ambrosia on a stick, a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus TV. The nine muses, minor goddesses, were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered—satyrs and naiads and a bunch of extremely good-looking teenagers who might've been minor gods and goddesses.
Nobody seemed worried about an impending divine civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive, carefree mood. Several of them turned to watch me pass and whispered to themselves, as they watched the boys like particularly exotic animals on a safari. It was uncomfortable. They climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak.
There, at the Olympian Palace, everything everything glittered white and silver and gold.
They realized Hades must've built his own palace to resemble this one, even if he was denied a seat there. He had built his own version of Olympus Underground. Despite their experience with him, they felt a little sorry for the guy. To be banished from this place seemed really unfair when from all the gods they met, he had been the most likable one.
It would make anybody bitter, they certainly would have felt that way if they were him.
Inside the place, they entered a room. Well... room wasn't the right word, it was like a huge chamber. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations and realistic night sky.
Twelve monumental thrones, built for beings the size of Hades', were arranged in an inverted U-like shape, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. Hestia's Heart, Albert realized. Her magic was comforting and warm, cozy, the most pleasing a god-like being ever felt to him.
The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. Percy didn't have to be told who the two gods were that were sitting there, waiting for him to approach. He came toward them, his legs trembling under their overwhelming presence. Still, he tried focusing on the sound of Albert's footsteps just a little behind him for moral support.
The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but he could barely look at them without feeling a tingle, as if his body were starting to spontaneously combust. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit that seemed to morph into an Ancient Greek regalia. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum color. He had an extremely well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like storm clouds. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy bluish gray.
He is not half as handsome as Hades, Albert thought privately to himself making a mental note about it. As the boys got nearer to him, the air crackled and smelled nauseatingly of ozone.
The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he was dressed very differently. He reminded me of a beachcomber. He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it that also transformed into sea-green Greek regalia. His skin was deeply tanned and healthy, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like Percy's. His face had that same brooding look that had always gotten Percy branded as a rebel and a delinquent. But his eyes... sea-green and uncannily similar to his son's, were surrounded by sun crinkles that told them he smiled a lot. Poseidon's throne was metallic turquoise a chair covered in seashells and gemstones.
The godly kings weren't moving or speaking, but there was an oppressive tangible tension in the air as if they'd just finished a heated argument.
Percy approached the fisherman's throne and knelt at his feet. "Father."
He dared not look up. His heart was racing. The boy could feel the energy emanating from the two gods. If he said the wrong thing, he had no doubt they could blast me into dust with half a thought!
Zeus spoke first and broke the silence. "Should you not address the master of this house first, boys?"
Percy and Albert kept their heads down and waited instinctively for something to happen.
"Peace, brother," Poseidon finally said. His voice stirred Percy's oldest memories: that warm glow he remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on his forehead. "The boy defers to his father. This is only right. The other one accompanies him."
"You still claim him then?" Zeus asked his brother, menacingly. "You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?"
"I have admitted my wrongdoing already, brother" Poseidon stated firmly. "Now I would hear him speak."
Wrongdoing? That word stung Percy and did not go unnoticed by Albert.
Was that all I was to him? A wrongdoing? The result of a god's mistake? Percy asked himself bitterly, already regretting ever calling the guy father.
"I have spared him once- no, many times already," Zeus grumbled in irritation. "Daring to fly through my domain... Hah! I should have blasted him out of the sky for his impudence!"
"And risk destroying your own precious master bolt?" Poseidon asked calmly. "Let us hear him out, brother. You lose nothing from this."
Zeus grumbled some more. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast this boy down from Olympus."
"Perseus," Poseidon said. "Look at me, child."
Percy did, and he wasn't sure what he saw in his face. There was no clear sign of love or approval on the god's face. Nothing to encourage him at all. It was like looking at the ocean: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable, mysterious.
Percy got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of him. He didn't know whether he was happy to have me as a son or not. In a strange way, the boy was glad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize or told me loved him or even smiled, it would've felt fake and forced. Like a human dad after running away from responsibilities and showing up years later with a sob story and excuses.
"Address Lord Zeus, boy," Poseidon told me. "Tell him your story."
And so Percy told Zeus everything. Just as it had happened chronologically. Until he finally took out the metallic cylinder-like weapon from his backpack, which began sparking in the Sky God's presence, and carefully laid it at his feet.
There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire. Albert was glad that thing existed, it was his only consolation in that unbearable place. Hestia's magic was the support he didn't know he needed before coming here.
Zeus suddenly opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it telepathically. As he closed his fist around it, the metallic points flared with light and electricity, until he was holding what looked more like the classic thunderbolt, a twenty-foot javelin of arcing, hissing energy that made the boys' hairs rise.
"I sense the boy tells the truth," Zeus muttered thoughtfully. "But that Ares would do such a thing... it is most unlike him."
"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon stated tactfully. "It runs in the family."
"May I speak, my lords?" Albert asked, shaking a little bit, feeling the gazes of the gods on him."
The King of the Gods waved at him to continue and Poseidon was intrigued and also nodding.
"I believe Lord Ares isn't truly the one to blame. Someone else—something else— came up with the idea. The God of War mentioned dreams and he sometimes looked dazzled and confused. I have in good reason that he was also manipulated in a grander scheme. I believe The Titan God Kronos is stirring once more and he expected to have us deliver the mater bolt to the depths of Tartarus, but things happened and prevented that from happening."
Percy added in agreement and described his dreams.
"In the dreams," Percy said, "the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld... Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, he was disturbed saying Gods don't dream. He was scared and angry. I also think he was being used, just as I was, to start a war among the gods."
"You have any idea of what you are saying?" Zeus asked them baring his teeth. "Are you sure it wasn't Hades all along?"
"Yes, sir" Albert firmly stated. "We've been in the presence of Lord Hades before. This feeling on the chasm was different, it was older, more violent, and evil. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful and evil is stirring down there... something even older than the gods."
Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other with complicated knowing gazes. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek that was hard for the boys to understand. They only caught one word. 'Father'.
Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily.
"We will speak of this no more," Zeus said with a warning tone. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."
The God of Thunder rose from his throne and looked at the two demigods. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree, almost unnoticeably. "You have done me a service, children. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."
"We had help, sir," Percy said. "Grover Underwood and Annabeth Chase—"
"To show you my thanks, I shall spare your life once more. I do not trust you, Perseus Jackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, I shall let you live this time."
"Um... thank you, sir." The boy said a bit stunned by the revelation.
"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return..." Zeus warned him. "Otherwise you shall taste the power of this bolt. And I promise you, it shall be your last sensation."
Thunder shook the palace and roared from all directions. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone. They were alone in the throne room with the Sea God. Albert glanced over the father-son duo and politely excused himself. He wanted nothing from this place. He had cleaned up Hades' suspicion and possibly saved Ares' ass too. Truthfully, he wasn't into making enemies of that jerk, not when he knew, that whatever Ares had done wasn't really his idea.
...
"Your uncle," Poseidon sighed, "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theater."
An uncomfortable silence befell them, Percy wished Albert hadn't left him alone.
"Sir," Percy said, "what was in that pit? Was that really Kronos?"
Poseidon regarded him with an unreadable look and hummed softly. "I believe so yes."
"Kronos," Percy said out loud thoughtfully. "The king of the Titans. It can't be good news."
Even in the throne room of Olympus, far away from Tartarus, the name Kronos darkened the chamber and made the hearth fire seem not quite so warm like it was scared of it.
Poseidon gripped his trident tightly. "In the First War, Percy, Zeus cut our father Kronos into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father, Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titan army was scattered then, their mountain fortress on Mount Etna was destroyed, and their monstrous allies were driven to the farthest corners of the earth in exile... Yet Titans cannot die, any more than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideous way, still conscious in his eternal pain in the pits, still hungering for power and seeking revenge on us for putting him there."
"He's healing, sir," Percy said looking at the god. "He's coming back. I can feel it."
Poseidon shook his head. "From time to time, over the eons, Kronos has stirred many times. He enters the mortal minds in nightmares and breathes evil thoughts of corruption. He wakens restless monsters from the depths to obey his commands.. but to suggest he could rise from the pit is another thing entirely. It's unlikely he will succeed, child."
"That's what he intends..." Percy argued. "That's what he said in my dreams."
That got Poseidon silent for a long time. Until he shook his head again, "Lord Zeus has closed the discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk of Kronos. You have completed your quest, child. That is all you need to do. Now, you and your companions shall return victoriously home."
"But—" Percy wanted to argue further but stopped himself. Arguing would do no good. The Gods were stubborn, prideful creatures as Albert had said so before. It would very possibly anger Poseidon too, a god who he hoped was actually on his side. He could take Procrustes out of his mind. A demigod, a son of Poseidon like him, whom Albert had decapitated and who was monstrously evil, but this being made no mentions of him. Percy sighed feeling designated and tired, "As... as you wish, sir."
A faint smile played on Poseindon's lips. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?"
"No... sir. It doesn't."
"I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained." He said as he rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmered and became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of me. "You must go, child. But first, know that your mother has returned. Hades had returned her to the house at the beach."
Percy stared at him, completely stunned. "My mother?"
"You will find her there. Hades sent her when you recovered his helm. Even the Lord of Death pays his debts."
The boy's heart was pounding. He couldn't believe it. "Do you... would you..."
Percy wanted to ask if Poseidon would come with me to see her, but then he realized that was ridiculous. He imagined loading the God of the Sea into a taxi and taking him to the Upper East Side, to see a mortal woman he had left over a decade ago. If he'd wanted to see his mom all these years, he would have done so. And there was Smelly Gabe to think about too. Percy would have to do something about that bastard soon.
Poseidon's eyes took on a little sadness as if guessing what he had almost asked. "When you return home, Percy, enjoy your time with your mother. She is safe because of you. No one can choose your path other than yourself, Percy. You must decide who you want to be and how you will live your life."
Percy nodded in response, though he didn't quite know what Poseidon meant by that.
"Your mother is a queen among women," Poseidon said wistfully. "I had not met such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Still... I am sorry you were born, child. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic."
Percy tried not to feel hurt or roll his eyes at those words. Here was his own dad, telling me he was sorry I'd been born and that his mother, a mortal woman who worked at a bakery and lived a difficult life to make sure he was safe was a queen, was every mortal woman he sired a demigod like that? Was Medusa like that once upon a time, before she got turned into a monster filled with resentment and hurt? Percy decided he didn't really want to know for his own sanity.
"It's okay. I am fine."
"Not yet, perhaps, you don't understand it yet," Poseidon said with pity. "It was an unforgivable mistake on my part."
"I'll leave you then." The boy quickly bowed awkwardly. "I—I won't bother you again."
It was only five steps away when the guy called him again, "Perseus."
Percy begrudgingly turned, wondering what other new hurtful thing this guy was gonna say like it was nothing. He hated Olympus and everything related to this place already. The Underworld had been a greater experience for him. Even Hades had been arguably nicer than his father and youngest uncle.
There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. "You did well, Perseus Jackson. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God."
Percy looked at him, but he didn't feel any happier, to be honest. What is that even supposed to mean? Poseidon was his father, but he was absent and clearly regretted having him too. The boy bowed again in respect and turned away without saying anything in response.
As he walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People and satyrs and naiads all turned toward me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as he passed, they knelt, as if he were some kind of hero.
"Looks like you're popular here..." Albert playfully said, clearly trying to cheer him up.
Percy snorted. "Whatever. I wouldn't have managed without your help and the others... they probably don't know. Aren't you mad they don't treat you the same?"
Albert merely tilted his head in confusion then shook his head in denial. "What use do I have to that? No... I like things like this. I am happy we did it. That's enough for me."
"Enough for you?" Percy repeated, he wondered. Thinking about his mom being back at the Montauk beach house, all the monsters he faced with the others, he nodded and laughed. "You're right. This is enough for me too."
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