Chapter 2
The victory party was an energetic affair meant for energetic people. Serving as a much-needed morale boost for the war-weary camps after the burial and funeral rites, the veterans of the twelfth legion and Camp Half-Blood both were allowed into Olympus.
And the people there at this grandiose affair were mostly energetic and joyous. all, of course, celebrating the time of their lives. The seven demigods and the rest of the hero’s invited to Olympus (all the demigods and legacies that helped fight against Gaia) for the party all mingled with each other and their respective godly parents or whichever god they so fancied. It was the first time most of the Greeks and Romans had truly felt at peace meeting their godly parents, who they could only barely communicate with and now could have conversations with and receive gifts from, finally meeting a father or mother absent from most of their lives.
Couples snuck off to the gardens to share heated kisses, and the wine god, in both his Roman and Greek forms, enjoyed a cup of wine while operating the minibar flooded with spirits and minor gods with demigods trying to wrestle alcohol from the god. Reyna and Jason both awkwardly flirted, finally noticing each other in more than a platonic fashion. From what Apollyon could piece together, Piper and Jason had broken up shortly after the war, but it seemed in only a few days Jason was moving on. Apollyon was happy for his friend, as life was too short to live in an empty romance.
Will and Nico would make eyes at each other and sneak kisses before they eventually left to speak to the god of the dead, who looked happier than Appolyon had ever seen him as when he saw his son finally finding love in the form of the son of Apollo. Apollo was still missing himself, but the demigods weren’t majorly too worried, as Zeus assured them they would soon be hearing from the god again, and soon, by the way of his phrasing. Piper had finally calmed down after Aphrodite assured her daughter that Leo was not dead and was now with her siblings talking to their mother. Jason, on the other hand, seemed more distraught than Apollyon enjoyed to see, but he seemed happier whenever he was now with Reyna. And yet there was one demigod who was not enjoying himself to his fullest. There must have been a blessing from Aphrodite or Venus, as love seemed to be in the air and everyone calmed down. Perseus Jackson had finally woken up, and Apollyon slunk off into the depths of his subconscious, a weapon to be called up when worst came to worst. Percy toyed with his wand, summoning rubber ducks and model boats, playing with them on a dome of water he had conjured with his powers. He was happy.
He was forgotten.
He was alone
He himself believed that the boy that he was at the start of the quest was dead, but if Hazel could find life once more, could he? What would he do now? He dropped out of the only school system he knew, and he couldn’t simply become a no-maj; that was too, well, too mundane for his taste. And could he truly rejoin with the divine? He had only had glimpses of the demigods' faces when he fought Gaia, and the pressure of leading now seemed too much for him. It was not that they needed him; sooner or later they would be hurt by him and fear him if not already. He must stay away if he wants to keep his former friends safe. He must stay away if he wanted to be more than a champion for the gods to parade around on a leash.
And if he left, where would he go? Maybe he could take Hecate’s offer of additional magical lessons. He had written to her about his desire to leave the divine world, and from advice from his father, he decided to move to magical Britain. Of course the British had their own fair share of misery and problems, but Percy could find good work hunting down the monsters and dark wizards and witches that littered Europe. He could get a magical degree in defense against the dark arts, and maybe, just maybe, he could become more than just the savior of Olympus to the few who might remember him. He had a second chance, and Percy would make sure it wouldn't get wasted.
But how would he recover? It's not like he could talk to someone about his strife; it was not that he could be happy. How could he truly be happy if she was dead? How could he truly be happy if what amounted to a piece of him had just died? Part of his soul had died with her during that battle. His dad tried to talk to him about it, but what would Poseidon know with an immortal queen? What would the immortal know of loss? People expected him to be happy, but the son of Poseidon itched for a duel with a sword or a wand to let out his anger at this injustice. How could he be happy if she was dead? But he knew she was happy. She had finally found her peace, and for all that it ached him, he would at least try to keep going on and enjoy the break from the fighting.
He decided that he would enroll in that dueling tournament that was supposed to happen not too long from now. He had long ago dreamed of entering, when everything seemed so simple on their trip across the United States in a bid to lose the Romans off their scent. He had complained to herthat he might’ve missed it if they didn’t finish the quest in time and joked that the earth mother could wait until after he had won.
Of course nobody wanted to fight the war with Gaia, but it was his first chance to become more than just the junior wizarding dueling champion. No, now he was seventeen; now he could compete in the international leagues. The future international wizarding dueling champion wasn't going to be fussy when it came to magical fights. Unlike the swordplay he had grown used to in the war, magic was something only he had and the Hecate's cabin could enjoy. When it came to any fight, he would've been ecstatic for a chance to hone his skills and improve. He would challenge Hecate to one if not for the bone-weary exhaustion of battle that always followed him now, even a week since the battle had ended. He had spoken a few words with his father earlier, but he was now locked in a discussion with Hestia and Athena. Percy didn’t mind too much but would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have the opportunity to talk to his dad more. The demigods thankfully didn’t approach him, and why should they? He doubted that they even noticed him thanks to his new gift.
When he saw Leo getting flung into space by the earth mother and Piper failing at her task, he knew he had to take it into his own hands. He now carried the shattered blade of his sword but could rest easy knowing the earth mother wouldn’t be rising anytime soon. He was considering getting a commission from hephaestus to forge him a new weapon but he felt like he would be bretrying his old sword by replacing her.
“Expelliarmus,” he cast the spell at Mars, who was waving his sword around, describing the exploits of a Roman soldier whose name Percy had not heard and doubted he ever would again, to Frank and Hazel, who seemed to be entertained at the least by the story and actually paying attention. Percy didn’t care and watched with glee as his sword flew out of his hand. He saw how Frank and Hazel looked around in bewilderment as they searched around for the perpetrator, but the disillusionment spell ensured that they wouldn't find him in the crowd; they wouldn't recognize him anyway. He did see the glare Mars send his way before flashing him a weary smile.
“Of course war would recognize destruction,” he muttered, seeing Frank and Hazel being shooed away before Mars strode up to him. He cast a silencing rune to ensure nobody could eavesdrop as all the minor battle spirits attempted to listen in.
“Evening, Mars, I heard you were sulking when Zeus mandated peace between the two camps.” The war god laughed at his jest before jesting back.
“And you must be disappointed with the old barnacle-beard; I heard he snuffed away your glory.” Percy gave a weak smile at the jest.
“I bet you would’ve loved to help fight the earth mother if it wasn’t for the prophecy in the way. You know, I bet it would’ve taken even longer if you joined me.” The god of war got a sad look on his face, the disappointment etched in his features.
“I bet I could’ve taken her in half the time than you, sea brat. Why, if it wasn’t for the damn thing with prophecies being certain, I would have beaten her before you even touched ground.”
“But truth be told.” Mars leveled the most serious expression he had ever seen that finally conveyed his thousands of years of age.
“Thank you for taking care of Frank. I wish I could see my children more often and longer than just a few hours.” He disappeared in a red mist, leaving only an orange pill bottle. A sticky note attached to the bottle written in Greek conveyed the significance of the bottle: “For the trauma,” it read. He smiled in thanks; the nightmares were too much, as even awake he could not get away from their faces. Every day he woke, he saw the carnage of the battle, and every day that he woke, he saw the failures he had committed. If he had only been a little more careful, he could’ve stopped the blood dripping down. He had control over it, so could he not just have stopped it? It was his fault Gaia woke, and it was his fault that they she had died.
He was pulled out of his depression and grief long enough to register the queen of magic fast approaching him, a wand twirling in her fingers and a fur jacket covering her form. He spotted the aftermath of a conversation with her, seeing Hazel beaming from the likely praise she had garnered and now moving her way to where Mars and Frank were conversing. Before he could be interrogated by the goddess, Percy pocketed the pill bottle in the dragon leather jacket he had gotten enchanted by the Hecate cabin to have double the capacity. It came in handy when he had only the strong warm jacket protecting him on his adventure from the wolf house to New Rome.
“My lady,” he inclined his head in greeting as she materialized two wine goblets filled with nectar. He took the offered one before knocking it back in one.
“What would occur would make you even entertain the idea of talking with a mere mortal like me?” The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on her as she merrily laughed.
“I was hoping I could set you up with an apprenticeship with a demigod son of mine. As you have written to me, you will study defense against the dark arts with him while receiving Auror training. You of all people should recognize his name.” She did not take notice, or if she did, ignore the raised eyebrow that Percy was leveling at her. “His name is Alastor Moody, and I contacted him, and he seems open to the idea of you joining him as you find your bearings in the greater magical community; however, in return, I need you to cut off most of your connection with the divine, as there is a war coming up, and magical Britain needs as many powerful witches and wizards to fight the growing evil.” Percy mulled over the idea; he had always dreamed of becoming an Auror, and training under such an esteemed wizard would be a great victory for him. He could make a sizable fortune from the tournaments and afterward would only have to occasionally take contracts to hunt dark creatures of wizards. He could finally retire in a small seaside cottage. He would be comfortable and outside the restrictions that often came with magical America. And the catch wasn’t exactly a catch, as Percy was already planning to cut off his connections with the two camps and Olympus, so it really was just a win-win. And he could always just not fight when this war came around. It's not like it would happen for another decade or so.
“I’ll take the deal.”