lightbearcuddles

[lightbearcuddles]

Kneel To No One

When Mars appears, the whole of the roman camp kneels before him. Yet one look at his face drives a fire through Percy's blood. This guy, he irritates him. A name pops up in his mind, Ares. Scenes flash by.

The god buys him hamburgers offering a quest.

At the beach, a fight, a duel. The god cheats. Annabeth, a faun, Grover? Even strength bows to wisdom sometimes .

The god visits him again, with a lady, his lady he calls her. She’s beautiful

And Percy cannot bow, he will not bow, it takes all his willpower to even not punch the guy in his face. Instead he stares the god in the eye, challenging him.

“It's you again. I remember you, I've seen you before,” Percy speaks through gritted teeth.

“I don't know what you're talking about kid,” A signature smirk.

“Of course you don't, you wouldn't remember being defeated by an 11 year old would you? Even strength bows to wisdom sometimes, that jog your memory old man? Hurt your pride so much you even cursed Riptide” Percy strokes his weapon, bringing it before the god.

The god opens his mouth to reply. A twisted anger grasps his face as he traces a scar across his arm. Yet before he could say anything…

“Greggus! How dare you disrespect a god, Percy Jackson. Clearly you're trying to get your probatio tablet revoke…”

Then Octavian gets cut off. The now standing argur gets forced to his knees with Ares, no Mars glaring at him, pushing him down with his divine might.

“You, who gave you the right to stand? Who gave you the right to interrupt when powerful people are speaking? Get your praetors to punish you. And you Perseus, for that curse your father has avenged you. Do not bring it up again.”

Percy smiles. That must be a sore spot for Mars. His father had avenged him, the thought makes him feel warm, happy.

Different thoughts ripple through the roman crowd. Awe at the fact that the new demigod had fought, and as basically confirmed by the god himself defeated Mars at a mere 11 years old.

Confusion, questions at how Percy was different from, more important than Octavian who was the argur, or even the praetors. Why the god had been angry at Octavian for simply defending the Gods own superiority, but not at Perseus for refusing to kneel.

And finally jealousy, jealousy that Percy's father cared for him so much that he'd avenged him. Fought a fellow god, Mars for him.

Percy stood oblivious to these thoughts, never feeling the golden power shining, pulsing at them all, making them kneel. He stands tall, and furrows his brows.

“Let's move on to more important matters, why are you here?”

“Always so serious Cousin, Mercury would be disappointed. You were always his favourite!” Mars grimaces, then turns to finally face the roman populus.

“I'm here to do two things, claim my Son and issue a prophecy, issue a quest, and yes Percy, you have to be a part of it…”

[lightbearcuddles]

Breaking The Ice

Katara was jealous, and of all the people in the world she was jealous of Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, even Toph . The freedom, the recognition they had. She knew those women didn’t have it all, like understanding parents or happy backstories. Yet she couldn’t help it.

Katara didn’t like it, how in water tribes, women had lived in the shadows, how men were in charge and could do as they pleased while women were put to so much expectation. Yue for one? As princess she was to be married away while Azula was a favourite over Zuko when his father had reigned.

Sure things in the Northern Water Tribe were getting better, some women were allowed to learn water bending beyond healing and people were encouraged to open their eyes to what women could do! But that wasn’t the problem.

Back home, in the southern water tribe, people were expecting Katara to stop playing around. Sure she got here and there some recognition, but it was nothing like the fan worship Sokka was receiving.

She knew her dad was trying to hide it from her, but he was talking to Sokka about taking over tribe chief matters.The tribe though, the elders and even her dad had started hinting to Katara about marriage! That was not cool.

“Hey Katara, how’s it going with Aang? Should I be expecting grand babies?”

“Hey you haven’t been talking to Aang so much…”

Ugh, Katara had enough.

“Dad, Sokka, I am not going to be marrying Aang any time soon. I really did try, to see him as more than a kid I look after, but it didn’t work out, we broke up…and I’m not going to be marrying anyone anytime soon!”

She storms to her room. Ugh, Katara was sick and tired of this. All of this nonsense! Staying home, fiddling, playing in the snow! This wasn’t the life she wanted, not after the fucking war she’d been through . Where was the hunting? Where was the travelling? Where was being respected, recognised as more than just a little water bender companion of Aang.

At least it wasn’t going to continue any longer. Katara glanced at her packed up bag, knives, water, rations and the letters. Zuko’s letters. He’d offered her a way out, to go to the fire nation as a start, to get back to travelling, get back to learning, get back to doing, to breathe life into new places like she had done as the Painted lady, to escape.

An envoy was coming from the fire nation to discuss treaties via ship, which would be leaving a little earlier, without the envoy. And if Katara wanted, she’d be welcome to leave on the ship, as Zuko had promised. And a little part of her would feel guilty at leaving this way, but mostly she was so god darn excited!

She grabbed a piece of parchment and ink, crafting her last goodbye letter, in excitement, waiting, reaching for freedom that was to come.

Katara had done it, when her father was distracted, she’d run, grabbed her stuff and boarded the ship. She didn’t stop running, off to the lower decks where no one would see her and — Ouch!

Katara gazes up having bumped into someone’s chest. Oh, oh…

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I be on my own ship? It’s not just me, look…”

Faces come peeking from behind him. Toph, Aang, Mai. Oh. Katara feels happy, truly happy for the first time in quite some time. She feels the tears against her skin and rushes forward, embracing Zuko. She feels his arms gripping her steadily, and for the first time in months, she breathes, freely free to make whatever choices she wanted.

“Guys, we’re back together again, it’s been a long while hasn’t it?”

Katara looks up, still in Zuko’s embrace glancing at everyone else. She’s finally awake and alive and it feels amazing.

[lightbearcuddles]

Jason Grace and the Canp Half Blood Makeover

Jason Grace could not understand Camp Half Blood. He’d just recently returned to Camp Half Blood after his quest and began to see how things worked here, understanding it a little better. And honestly, some things just didn’t make sense!

Sure they had a lot of cabins so that each kid had a cabin of their parents to stay at, but some were almost empty, with like one or two kids to a whole cabin!

They had rules like only sitting at your cabin’s table, what about those kids then huh? It was wasting a lot of space and isolating people instead of letting them mingle around better! He was so glad it wasn’t that way at Camp Jupiter.

Then schooling, education? It was almost non-existent! All rounder kids learnt things at their own time, it wasn't enforced with lessons run by 2 older Athena kids. There were literal illiterate kids at camp!

Ok, Jason wasn’t saying camp Jupiter was excellent, Camp half blood had its good points too, like a democratic leadership, with cabin heads, or councillors running the whole thing with little help. There wasn’t the problem of if one person became the head, cough cough Octavian, camp may eradicate itself! The other councillors could stop him!

It was just that Jason saw a lot of little things that could be fixed, like having more teachers, using Cabins as temples and having separate mixed lodging for campers, with demigod groups, not siblings! And he’d begun to start talking with Annabeth about his ideas…

So while Leo and Piper worked on the ship, Jason started working with Annabeth on his ideas. Good thing was that apparently Percy had some similar ideas he’d written in a book, so they had something to base their idea off. He’d drawn some camp layout plans and more in the notebooks and some ideas on the leadership too.

By the time Jason, Leo, Piper, Annabeth and Coach Gleeson left to Rome, Will, Clarisse and the twin sons of Hermes’ had begun taking over the project and actually implementing it.

When Percy came back, well, he’d have a surprise waiting for him! Jason wondered about camp Jupiter, would it be any different?

Inspired by @suitedevil04 comment on Shadows of Legends

[lightbearcuddles]

When Gods Have Egos And Make Stupid Decisions

Triton was feeling jealous, because see, his friend had a little brother, which he did not (the bastard didn’t count). And recently, having introduced said brother to Triton, Leonard was making a point of boasting about it. And maybe a teeny tiny bit of Triton was jealous…

“Recently he even wished me ‘happy birthday’ and got me this sword! Impressive weapon isn’t it! Having a little brother is indeed amazing! Has Rhodes ever gotten you a sword? Just inquiring?” Leonard’s eyes are twinkling.

“Must you mention your brother in every other sentence?”

“You wouldn’t understand! You don't have one after all…”

Triton is upset, so upset that his eye twitches. And in true godly manner, as any son of Poseidon would, he does what he does best, make a stupid impulsive comment.

“Leonard, I'm sure you know by now that I do have a little brother actually, and I’m sure he’s just as if not more impressive than your own. I just don’t go around talking about him every five seconds”

The god then takes a while to process what just flew out his mouth. Leonard’s eyes are wide, and he’s stunned into silence, staring at Triton like he was a mutated monster. Triton’s eye twitches again, as he thinks of what he’d just implied.

Leonard opens his mouth, closes it then opens it again “The half-blood prince you mean? You’re on good terms with him? You commune with him? When did you start liking the basta…Prince?”

Triton glares, truly upset this time round. Acknowledging, calling out Perseus as a bastard was something only he was allowed to do. Even Leonard was not allowed such a privilege .

“Watch your words Leo,that was not for you to say” Triton enunciates each word slowly, as if forcing them into Leonard’s skull. Uh oh, Leonard was smiling, that was never a good sign. Triton's eyebrows are furrow.

“Right, I apologise. Next Friday, we’re going on a hunt together with my brother Bistorff aren’t we? Why don't you bring along your brother too?”

And that’s how Triton found himself staring at the door of the bastard, Perseus’s apartment door. Should he knock? No. He should flash inside the house. It wasn’t too late to leave yet…Triton mused.

[lightbearcuddles]

Percy Jackson and the Smells of Divinity

Percy Jackson started smelling things around the time he was in Tartarus. And he did not want to tell anyone he figured it was best to, at a time like this. Cause when I say he was smelling things in Tartarus, I mean chocolates, strawberry yogurt, cake and even a peanut butter jelly sandwich! In Tartarus. He was pretty sure that wasn’t normal, cause when he told Annabeth she just looked at him like he was insane!

“I was joking, we’re literally in Tartarus, how on earth would I be smelling this shit! I’m not that insane…”

Percy didn’t want to worry her more than she already was, and it seemed trivial. Besides, it wasn’t a new thing, it was just a lot stronger in Tartarus for some reason. He’d been smelling these food items since he drank the Gorgon’s blood. At least they didn’t harm him, in fact, they were sort of like an energy boost, like water had been!

If it stopped there, things would have been fine, but see, when Percy and the other demigods and gods were battling it out on the battlefield, he found out that water wasn’t a boost to him anymore. He just felt constantly strong, pulling from himself.

Percy had a feeling about this since his encounter with Nyx, (oh how her pleas and cries entertained him) when her tears didn’t give him the strength he so desperately needed, when he had to pull that strength from within himself, to use his own powers to access the powerful weapon that was literally around him all the time, water.

Then in the Giant war, the demigods Percy fought with, even the younger ones who he’d barely ever interacted with just suddenly worked together better if he was near them. And they just got so much more energised too. It was like he was their instant charger!

Nope, no Percy bad thoughts bad! You are a normal, normal human. Nope, nothing wrong here! And if his blood glowed a little more gold, well…

“Ah this, Dad got his ichor over me when we were killing Polybotes!”

And more things started happening, really the words should have been a clear sign to tell Annie and Will, they’d know what to do, fix him up at the infirmary before whatever it was took over too many aspects of his life. Cause see, he could hear them, thoughts, wishes, not his own…

“I hope Joel will be my friend…”

“Please let me be good at sword fighting!”

“Someone clear this beach up!”

“I pray to God that this poison isn’t lethal”

“That apple pie is mine”

Okay, maybe the last one was Percy’s brain, but the rest… not so much. So what did he do? Well obviously, he ignored them all, sometimes wishing whoever’s thoughts it was, succeeded in whatever endeavour they wanted to, just when it felt right.

Around this time camp was doing so great, even better than pre-war! So he felt the stirring to roam, somewhere else. Eventually he settled on the beach, and if some dude who was initially complaining about the beach suddenly became invested in actually cleaning it? It had nothing to do with him.

Then the time he visited Rome, his room was even more fancy than that of the praetors! They decorated it all regal, with marble carvings of his battles and even put fresh fruits for him in front of his statue! Yup, typical Romans, life was just Perfect! Statues, cool things they were.

Then it happened, his dad started inviting him over to Atlantis! Wasn’t that against the Ancient Laws or something? Something like no visiting Demigods.

“So Percy, you seem distracted son, how are you adjusting to your new roles?”

“New Roles?”

“Yeah, you know godhood! Zeus was so mad when you ascended all by yourself, after refusing his offer! He was even more mad when you became a not-minor god, I mean, obviously, you’re my son so you’re amazing as me!”

“God?”

Was that Triton glaring at him?

Ah well, things started to make sense at least. But didn't he get a say in this? What was he even the god off?

Poseidon continued in his glee “My son, god of demigods,loyalty, poison and water! Almost as good as the sea!”

Yup Triton was definitely glaring at him.

Well Percy learnt a lesson. When weird things happen to you, question it….before it way too late. The end.

[lightbearcuddles]

Shadows Of Legends

Jason Grace didn’t know how to feel. Everywhere he went, he was reminded of who he wasn’t, who all these people seemed to love praise and even pray to?

Don’t get him started on the last one, the kid in front of him just burnt his peanut butter jelly sandwich to Percy! A peanut butter jelly sandwich! All he knew was that there was this kid, some son of Poseidon who was THE PERSON TO BE. He grumbled thanks to his dad, scraping off his meat brisket into the fire.

As Jason walked back to his seat, he continued his thoughts. He wasn’t being arrogant or wanting fame or anything, he just didn’t understand why people were so upset that this Percy guy was gone. Wasn’t he a son of Poseidon, did people like Poseidon here? They talked about HIM, like he was Hercules himself! What special thing did the guy do huh?

“Hey, that’s the new kid!”

“I want Percy back, not some no good Zeus kid, he doesn't even play with the kids!”

“Ugh, he’s so self obsessed, did you see the way he walked around camp with Piper, we get it man, you got a hot girlfriend!”

“Percy was never like this… I miss him”

Jason understood, he did really! They missed their little Hero, Percy Jackson, and they didn’t want replacements. But it wasn’t like it was his choice to be there you know. “Ughh, why can’t these people just shut up already?” He sighed.

“Who’s these people?”

“Better not be us!”

“Serious time guys”

Three voices sounded. Piper, Leo and… Annabeth. What on earth were they doing at his table? Athena’s daughter seemed to have read his mind “We’re here, because we’re four of seven. You three know each other, but you three don’t know me. And if you guys are going to help me get Percy back, then we’d better get to know each other quickly!”

Great, Woo Hoo Jason! Just your luck man, another Jackson fanatic.

“What’s your problem with Percy,” a dangerous tone.

Ah, that came out loud. Too loud. “I don’t have a problem with him, he’s cool, it’s just other people you know? I get it, you people would really rather have Percy around, you see him as a myth, a legend a hero! But don’t take that out on me you know?”

Leo and Pipes hung on the Percy bit more it seems. “No fence to you Annabeth,” Leo stuffed his mouth with…mashed potatoes? “but why’s he such a big deal round here anyway?”

“Gotta agree there, a kid in front of me literally offered up his dessert to Percy at the fire, he is a demigod right?” Piper asked.

Annabeth couldn’t seem to tell if to be offended on Percy’s behalf, but she managed to pick a more neutral tone.

“Percy, I guess you could say he’s another coming of the old heroes, I’m talking Hercules, Theseus — that kind.

He’s just done so many things we never thought possible, even before he had any training whatsoever, he killed a fury and Minatour

One week into camp, he was sent on a quest to retrieve Zeus’ lightning bolt, and to do so he killed the furies, Medusa, Chimera, and the biggest thing he did, he beat Ares in a fair duel.

His next year into camp, he ran away from camp with me Grover and… someone else, we rode across the sea of monsters on a lifeboat, then later a pirate ship and went to a cyclops lair, the old kind mind you, Polyphemus, and tricked Luke to showing that Chiron here was innocent after him having been framed.

Third year, fought and defeated the Nemean Lion and killed so many skeletons, befriended the Ophiotaurus aka a really important monster and saved its life multiple times, fought Atlas the titan, and held the sky.

Fourth Year, he navigated the labyrinth with me, killed a bunch of guys, and blew up Mount St. Helen with his powers, yes the one in the news. Then proceeded to do a lot more, I don’t like talking about that year…

Finally, last year, led us, all the demigods and hunters of Artemis into a war against the Titans, fought Kronos himself and bathed in the river Styx, and defeated Hades in a duel right after, though that may have been the Styx helping.

There’s just so many things I haven’t mentioned, like he was offered immortality and rejected that shit,”

By the end of it, Annabeth’s tone was a bit nasal and cracked. Jason was staring. At some point his draw had dropped ,and yes it just hung there like in cartoons.

Even Leo stopped fidgeting, seemingly stuck on ‘Mount St. Helen’. Pipes, she straight up said “Yup, lemme just go over there and offer my strawberry yoghurt to him.”

Jason, man he got it, he got all that Percy Hype . He was just a little bit crushed too, him fighting the titan Krios, it just seemed like a bunny’s task compared to whatever this guy did. He understood the weight of whatever this guy accomplished!

(But yes, he was still not happy about being compared with the guy, that was just plain mean!)

“Soo, getting to know each other huh, uhm, that sounds cool…” Jason glances over at Annabeth who seemed to have started tearing up, trying to break, whatever kind of shitty atmosphere this was.“Mhm, why don’t we, get on to that…”

[lightbearcuddles]

The Search For Perfection

Reading through the text is suffocating, and it makes me feel like giving up. I’m an aspiring writer, and my attention span is very short, a very big problem.

I start and start and start, six to ten projects at once, and each with a different writing style. Then slowly, one by one, they get deleted, tossed away in light of their imperfections. Those that stay, well, they're not the best. Sentence one looks like it was written by a different author than whoever in my mind wrote sentence 2.

And then I look over them, drafts that have been edited for days, well, they looked so much better before. And don’t get me started on comparing, I feel like a child taking her first wobbly steps compared to any old loser. They say it doesn’t have to be perfect, you know? And I just wish I thought that way too. So, it got me thinking, maybe that’s the biggest mistake of all, writing like a robot, striving for perfection.

All I saw was flaws, that hide away all the work and thought of each line, and the wonderful story it conveys. It made me forget the original intent of the story all together. Wabi-Sabi, embracing imperfections in all art forms, as the Japanese would say, might just be the step all authors need to take.

Writing in drafts is not bad, it’s just sometimes you gotta let your emotions be the ink, imagination the paper, and your mind the pen. Sometimes having those imperfect sentences add meaning, add structure. Sometimes those make believe words, create new worlds and stories. It’s the biggest mistake to close your mind to possibilities and focus on perfection. One I've made too many times.

A work is not defined by its flaws, it defines the flaws. A mistake is not a mistake unless you think it to be. And not knowing that, indlessly seeking perfection has always been my biggest mistake

[lightbearcuddles]

Prompt : The Greatest Tool

Back then, I was the greatest tool he'd ever known, used and used and used till disrepair, patched up and used again. And today, I lay by the side of his desk, coated in dusk, forgotten. I longed for the days where he’d gripped me tightly, where he'd held me and a book, writing of whatever journeys he’d been on, great adventures he’d seen in his dreams. It was me and him against the world.

I still remember the warmth of his touch, I remember how he’d pour the ink and take me to jot down whatever he felt like, I know his stories, his story, better than anyone else, and yet today I’m nothing. Our memories, our days, our dreams are all forgotten. Today he types. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Today he prints! He just gets it all without writing a word. And the rare writing done too with a ball point pen. No room for the old fountains like me eh?I guess it was pointless, to think I was ever more than a tool, to think I was something important, irreplaceable in his heart.

Now I’ve seen a bit more of his life. A lot more of his life. He’s gotten married and has a kid too. She's turning 15 soon, and like her father she loves it too, that is, my purpose, writing. I watch her, the rare moments she’s in the study, playing with her father. She’s here today too eh? The humans speak, a few flames lighted up on candles then extinguished.

Ah, it’s his daughter’s birthday. So that’s what the fire was for… I wonder what he’s going to gift her. I watch unblinking, soaking up memories I’d hold even as he passes, stories I’d long to share but never be able to. He’s walking towards me, is he looking for the staplers on the shelf? I gaze at his hand, reaching towards me. Though, it can’t possibly be a search for me. I close my eyes in resignation, tired of all the false hope.

And that’s when I feel it, after 20, maybe 30 years. A warm grip. A human hand, his hand gripping me. I’m breathless, the feeling is amazing! I’m going to write again! I, oh my goodness. And he stops. What!

He doesn’t write with me. He says something to his 15 year old daughter. And then I’m in a much softer grip. A safe grip nonetheless. I see what he mouths to her.

‘ My favourite pen, you’d better use it well, Happy Birthday Tina!’

[lightbearcuddles]

The Myth Of Divine Beings

Hades

Fact #1: Gods were not contained beings; they were raw power held back by their will to take a form.

Percy stood still. His friends were behind him. They had arrived, all the pain and suffering, all to bring them here. He surveyed the space. The air was dry and warm. Torches lit the room, decorated in precious gems and black decorations.

It was impressive, like nothing he had seen before, and huge, humongous, designed for giants. The throne itself could have seated a king-sized bed. The floor, black, made fully of opal, reflected the dancing fire that was especially red. The guards were nowhere to be seen, but skeletons lay at every corner, huge webs on the wall. He did not want to meet whatever had made those. Even without anyone near, a presence filled the entire room.

When Percy’s eyes first met Hades’, his heart palpitated. This was not a casual affair, nothing like his experiences with Mr. D. The air was thick with a putrid tension. Behind him stood Annabeth and Grover, squinting their eyes, unable to meet the God’s gaze. Their pupils were dilated, filled with fear. He knew this without even turning back. He baulked at the taste of their bitter anxiety.

Hades sat on his throne, his very being unhinged, bursting at the seams. A golden glow screamed from beneath his skin, reminding Percy of the myths—one look at a God’s true form and instant death. Hades thrummed with power, his glittering opal eyes resembling bottomless pits, holding furious flames.

Percy REALISED. Hades was not a PERSON of flesh and bone. Hades was a God. Hades was purely POWER, in a visible form.

The God tapped at his armrest impatiently as a fiery glow highlighted his jaw and unnaturally pale skin. His throne, a shocking white, gleamed with rubies, opals, diamonds, and gold. White—not just white. Bone. Percy shivered. A leathery whisper rang in his ears:

Bow, bow and beg mercy

Ask him for an easy death

Submit yourself to the lord’s glory

Or be cast to the pits of depth

A memory flashed. Young Percy had stared at the one-eyed man watching him. His hands had been sweaty, and he had curled himself up, attempting to tighten into a ball. He had feared death. No one had believed him. He could have disappeared from the world, and no one would have cared. Something had rolled down his cheeks. Tears.

Mrs. Dodds had lunged at Percy with outstretched talons, the promise of blood gleaming in her eyes.

His mother’s life was being squeezed out of her. Her wide teary eyes. His body had stopped moving. He had been frozen. Helplessness. Anger. Pain. Monsters. Death. Suffering.

Medusa’s voice had whispered promises. He could have been free—free from all of life. Trapped in a statue. Dead to the world.

He heard a whimper. It was Grover. Oh, Grover! He had to leave, he had friends depending on him. A strong feeling surged within him. A certainty. Death was not his to face. The three old ladies had sprung to mind, all smiling at him, a thread in their hands, sea green, with hints of gold. He had to awake, he had something to do.

Percy felt it then. The rivers of the Underworld—Styx and more—ready to obey his command. The cold touch of an opal smooth against his feet. The dry Underworld air, warm and raspy. He resisted the urge to seek liquid. Percy needed to return, back to Grover, back to Annabeth. He opened his eyes. He needed to be strong. The whispers had faded, and something inside him had steadied.

Percy stood tall and met Hades’ eyes. Lord Hades. So, this had been what it meant to be a God. He was curious, but he had a Purpose there that day.

“Lord and Uncle, I come to you with two requests,” an authoritative voice sounded strong and steady. It took him a moment to realise the voice had been his own.

Later, even as he had left the underworld, stepping on the pearls his father had gifted him, he had KNOWN. That encounter had shown him. He had SEEN a glimpse of divinity.

Zeus

Fact #2: Gods reflected what they were. Gods were their Domains. Gods were their Roles. And they showed it in every movement and action.

Olympus had reminded Percy of the Underworld. Golden patterns on walls instead of black, a white marble floor replacing Hades’ opal, and no skeletons or cobwebs. Otherwise the same. Where there had only been one throne, there had been twelve. He had almost wondered if the Underworld design had been intentional.

He walked forward unwavering, the lightning rod cackling in his hands. He did not dare gaze at the Gods. Instead, he felt for his father's presence and knelt, offering his greetings.

Even as he did so, Zeus’ weapon glided off his hands and floated away to its owner. It almost hummed with content. And Percy, Percy felt weaponless, helpless, and yet at peace. A feeling so familiar, like a mother's embrace, had encircled him.

“Should you not first address the Master of this house, boy?” a voice, undoubtedly belonging to Zeus,. An ozone smell enveloped the room. As angry as the voice sounded, it felt tired. Exhausted, pained.

For the first time, Percy allowed himself to look up, to gaze at the Gods, for his neck had hurt and his knees had ached. He gazed up at his father, scraggy beard and sea green eyes speckled with gold. And then he turned, he turned to face Zeus. His uncle and King.

Zeus had had a cleanly shaven beard and stormy grey eyes, with clouds swirling within. Even as exhausted as he sounded, he inspired, entirely uptight, the epitome of posture. When he spoke, the others turned, almost instinctively. Their ears leaned towards him. Even as the conversations had continued, Percy’s mind was observing. He observed the respect, concern, and admiration in the other Gods, even if masked by distrust, unhappiness, and jealousy. Percy’s own father had looked at Zeus, pained and respectful. And Percy, he had LEARNT something divine. The Gods reflected what they were. And Zeus, he was the sky, the weather, the clouds, and more. He was also The King. Even if the other Gods had been upset or angry, they followed his will, almost unknowingly. Zeus was King and Sky. His father, Sea and Storm. Hades, Death and Underworld.

The demigods too reflected something, their parents or their powers; mortals reflected their beliefs. Percy had wondered what he had wanted to show to the world, to the People of his King. He had wondered, and he had felt. One day, he would KNOW.

Demeter

Fact #3: The Gods too were bound by fate and its whims. Some laws could not be overridden. I

t had been in his Mythology lessons with Annabeth that he had gained another GLIMPSE. The story of Persephone. He was confused. Persephone had had to stay in the underworld for a part of every year, for she had eaten one-third of a pomegranate fruit from the underworld, as was Law. He did not understand. What laws did such divine beings have to follow? Surely laws could have been changed. Surely something could have been done! He knew the extent of a Mother’s rage. Why did Demeter sit back and accept what had happened with no consequences?

He left the lesson confused and had walked. He walked and walked. The entrance of the big house. Oh. He was there with a purpose. He had understood. Dionysus, a god, must know the answer to his query.

When he asked his question, Dionysus had not grumbled, he had not laughed it off or sent him away. He had looked at Percy, understanding and grim, and had said, “Fates, Perseus. Even our wills are bent by the Fates. Demeter’s Anger. Hades’ Triumph. My Ascension. They are all the mechanisms of fate. We must all come to accept that eventually, Perseus. You especially.”

Percy understood. Divine, mortal, in between, and even objects—they were all equally subject to the will of the Fates. He RECALLED his encounter with them, the Morai. And he had ACCEPTED—he had a Fate to fulfill . And he pities. He feels sad, Demeter and Hades forced to share Persephone and Persephone, she had no choice. Fate was cruel indeed.

Hera

Fact #4 : In their Realms, in their Domains, the Gods were different, stronger, brighter, they were MORE

Percy had had his fair share of trouble with Hera. So seeing her in his mom’s wedding with Paul had been a shock. Seeing her being nice and kind, talking with the mortals, had been a bigger shock. She was different than usual. Even in the way she dressed she had swapped her usual blues and greys with a bright red. Her cheeks were a rosy shade as though from some light drinking and she seemed 20 years younger, appearing around 25.

When he saw her talking to Paul and his mom he was greeted with Hera blessing their marriage. Her usual snide tone was replaced with a warm gentleness that did not even disappear when she addressed him. “Nephew, how are you doing? I hear you’ve been very proactive in the wedding plans!” There was not a hit of animosity or her usual I’m better than you tone.

It was then when he understood. Hera was the Goddess of Marriage, family and fertility. A wedding like this was her Domain. Her place of comfort, her power in wishing and blessing others well. Here she was different in the way here she was anchored. Here Hera was Powerful and Here she showed Family and gentleness. Hades in his Domain was faster, stronger, more vast and overbearing. Zeus in his Domain was more regal, inspiring and an influence. And Hera in her Domain was kinder, calmer and caring.

Percy thinks he understands, like mortals in their safe spaces, the gods were more relaxed in their domains. Like how much more open and enigmatic he felt at home or camp rather than in school. He OBSERVES and he COMPARES. Yet another view of divinity.

Hestia

Fact #5: The Gods were influenced by mortals beliefs and perceptions, beyond themselves.

It was after the war that Percy returned to the Hearth of Olympus, where the Last Olympian resided. Hestia, every time he’d talked with her she had shown him wisdom, not by domain like Athena’s but of her own true experiences, of her age. She had stood silently, watching from birth till morden times, all of the gods. And she knew when to share that knowledge.

When he saw her she was quietly tending to her flames, amidst the chaotic celebration. The flame was brighter than it had ever been, perhaps reflecting the victory of the olympians. He turned to glance at Hestia, opening his mouth to question his thought.

"It is not as you think. The flame is strong and burning brightly, fueled by you and the other demigods. It is the heart of Olympus, sustained by belief and the will of the west. As long as you believe, Olympus remains strong. In this war, you've reignited the gods' faith in themselves and the demigods' loyalty. The flame endures."

Percy thinks, sitting by Hestia’s side. He thinks of how disbelieving Hermes was, when asking whether he thought the gods could change. He felt it so and he believed. He wondered if the gods were the way they were, uncaring, forgetful and distant because of how their children saw them.

He thinks of what Hestia says and he understands. A god is made as much as he is by birth and Chaos as he is by beliefs. He thinks of Dionysus’ bitter expression when he said that the gods didn’t exist all those years ago. He remembers Chiron’s words, of how one day he may simply be a myth explaining how little boys lost their mothers, and he wonders, maybe tens, hundreds of years later, would he be remembered?

Percy WISHES of divinity. He WANTS to be remembered, to be understood.

Poseidon

Fact 6: Gods could destroy and Gods could create with nothing more than their Domains

It is in the Giant War, that Percy truly understood the might of his father. He stood side by side with his father, fighting all the giants that came their way.

He chopped the head off a giant , realising his father pierced the same giant in the heart with a spray of salty ocean water. How it got there he did not know. The giant was killed. He looked at his father who had abandoned his trident for the raw ocean. Swirling in gold his father destroyed monster after monster, sea water sparkling and glittering, ready to obey his father’s command.

This same water, Percy’s father had used thousands of years ago to create horses now destroyed, reducing enemy stallions to nothing. Oh. Percy UNDERSTOOD what he was SEEING. His father was a God. He needed nothing more than the ocean, his domain, to create, or to destroy. That was his POWER, and that was his SOURCE. And now Percy knew.

Percy thinks, he thinks of all he has done since his very first day at camp.

Of all the Demigods he has befriended, protected.

He thinks of Tartarus, he thinks of Akhyls, misery herself bowing to his mastery of her tears, of her poison, of her blood.

He thinks of the River Styx, and all her sisters who bowed to his will and lent him their strength.

He thinks of the rain, guiding his very first fight with the minotaur.He destroys.

He protects. He is liquid in itself and all of her sources. Perseus Alexie, protector destroyer. And he understands. He does not know when his seeing became FEELING. When understanding became DOING.

Perseus Alexie feels every demigod, fighting by his side, their clamour of weapons, their pain and injury. He will destroy to protect them. He spreads himself and his power.

Suddenly, injuries heal,the tired are refreshed and all of the demigods are empowered. They fight stronger. And Percy, he glows a familiar gold, standing beside his father as he destroys. He rips and tears bodies apart, with riptide, with blood, with sweat, with a rain that has begun and the tide of war shifts. The war will be won.

Some weeks later, new temples and sacrifices are made. Some months later a new god enters Olympus. Some years later, the demigods camps were rebuilt, stronger and safer. Some centuries later, demigods live years longer than even mortals.

Throughout, there are whispers, legends and stories of a hero who understood divinity. Of a hero who rose for his fellow warriors. A hero who destroyed to protect.

[lightbearcuddles]

Prompt: Sacrifice

The medal stares at me provokingly. It’s been years since that competition and even so it haunts me like it was just yesterday. The scene replays in my mind every night I come home from my tiring nine to five. My biggest what if. Maybe it’s my sole fixation on those dreams I’d crushed, represented by that medal that read sportsmanship award, that makes me so desperate to leave this depressing trap I find myself in, that makes me wonder if in another world, I’d be racing across the familiar red and white tracks with thousands of eyes on me and the flag of my home right above my heart. A flag of red and white that I’d show to the crowd of the whole world as I pursued a passion that still burns within me, even when it’s so far away, miles and miles of empty fields away.

I remember how way back then, when I’d first been told of how talented I was, I had raced across the school field feeling on top of the world. I was just a ten year old boy who was without a care in the world, but as I ran that 1.6 meters in preparation for my 1.6 National Physical Fitness Award test, I was shocked to be told I was considered ‘gifted’ with my long legs and natural talent for running. I’d finished the distance within seven minutes, giving my physical education teacher the surprise of his life. It was him who insisted that I transferred Co-Curricular-Activity or CCA to track and field from my debating club. That was the start of my glorious reign on the field as I ran and ran, with green grass and a red and white track a blur in my vision, winning my school medals and trophies. All reading first place.

It was no surprise when then after I used track, my CCA to direct school admission to Raffles Institution, the most prestigious school for boys at that time. By then, everyone was praising me, building an illustrious castle of dreams representing my future, where I’d be running, pursuing my dreams to bring glory to the whole of Singapore, at the Olympics itself. I was that kid that all the aunties in the neighbourhood wanted their child to be. Confident, talented and recognised. However, it was in Raffles itself where my dream would come crashing down on me, hidden by an opportunity to prove myself to the masses.

My coach had pulled me and a few other boys aside and told us of it. “It’s the most prestigious 5000m long distance event boys, the run of your dreams. There will be professional runners and scouts from the industry in the audience, all there to pick out future runners, who’ll represent countries on the world stage. That sports scholarship you want, this is your one and only opportunity. The five of you, you’re all talented, but don’t let that get into your heads. You’ll be going under the most rigorous training of your lives, and it better be one of you, you to bring the first place trophy to our school.“

Coach had said this all with his eyes staring into mine. It wasn’t an arrogant thought but I knew he saw me as his only hope, me who’d bring glory to our school, to him and me too. With that knowledge, there was a pressure in my heart, swelling so much it felt difficult to breathe. Excitement and adrenaline too, with thoughts of racing against all the talents in Singapore, pushing myself to a victory that could be my hardest one yet. Testing all my limits. And within all these thoughts was a hope for the future, to make running the reality of my career.

The training was a nightmare, and after, burning legs, lungs about to collapse, a hoarse voice and blurry vision was all I felt. Every day, pushing myself with a tunnelled vision showing the glory this arduous process would leave me with. My mother once wanted me to quit, after seeing my sweaty self, collapsing into bad, unable to even eat, then get up the next day only to return home the same way. My coach even asked if I needed a break, but I knew with the strength of my will that my body was not yet at a point where I needed rest. With enough food and hard work I stood there on the day of the competition with anticipation and nerves crawling like millipedes through my blood. Today as I reminisced, this was the build up, these feelings, that made me take the day’s events so badly, so disappointed, for doing something that at the moment seemed the only humane thing to do.

“Three, two and one” a voice whispers, a loud beep, a whistle. I run. Run. Breathe. Feel. Run. This, this was the feeling of start. Starting something that would put me in the eyes of those who’d make my dreams come true. At some point, my leg tires but I push myself anyway. At another point I start breathing heavily but I keep going. I’m keeping pace, never slowing, finding myself at the start of all the runners. Place number one, that was the goal. And then it happened. The incident that broke me, placed me in the pit of meaninglessness that I saw myself in with deep dark shadows and no one nearby.

To this day, I don’t know his name. He was the hopeful for place number two. Something went wrong, in the middle of his run. He paused all of a sudden and screamed in agony. His leg was cramping maybe? Or did he pull a muscle? I don’t know. At first, I felt pity. He was to lose his all his dreams. But knowing that someone would pull him out of the race, knowing that this was the end for him, I continued to run, not slowing down like the rest of those behind me. It didn’t happen like I thought. Amidst the pain, and with his angry coach yelling at him, I see him forcing himself to run as I’m on my next round. He’s one round behind us all but he doesn’t stop. And I know he can’t go like this any longer. And at that moment, I thought of how I would feel in his place. With all my dreams gone. With all I was a failure. With all the disappointment of those around me. And all my training in the drain.

Today, I know, my imagination of the feeling is a hundred knife stabs through my heart less than reality, but at that moment, I decided to abandon my dreams and help him at the very least finish what he’d started. That was all he dreamed of at that moment . That much I knew without even knowing a single thing about him. He was just dreaming of finishing his first and maybe after that day, his last big race. Yet the decision I made was hasty. I just knew someone was upset and I could help. I wasn't really thinking and only when I'd made the decision, was its aftermath revealing itself to me.

Suddenly, my arms are around his shoulder and his around mine. We ran in tandem, not saying a thing to each other. There are stinging tears running down my face, because I knew that at that moment I had chosen to give up everything I ever wanted for a stranger.

I ran and ran. Hearing nothing but silence as images of my coach, my mom and my friends all looming above me, shaking heads in disappointment. I’d slowed down a lot, so that he could keep up, and we just kept running. Running and running. The commentator is saying something about us, me in particular, losing my first place trophy for having a kind empathetic heart. And it makes me want to cry even more. All I know is that I hated the guy, I hated that he made me want to help him. It’s not his fault but it sure felt like it.

The only thing I remember in the aftermath of the race was the rain. The stormy clouds that cried and cried with me as I threw my hands around my mother and wailed like a baby. The boy tries to thank me but I can’t, I can’t accept it when all I can think of is tears and sad. Sad and fear. Fear and sad. They give it to me then, the medal that haunts me. The medal of bitterness of first place gone to first place in empathy, sportsmanship award they call it.

Coach never spoke to me. But since he’d benched me. Never chose me to run again. I couldn’t quit as a Direct School Admission kid but the first chance I got in junior college I traded in my running shoes for debate, feeling as though things had come to a full circle again. Mother, of course she was proud of me. So so proud of me as she fiercely told me that day. She always supported me. Yet at that moment I wasn't so proud of me, for the sacrifice I had made.

And today I feel the tears again thinking of what could have been. Given the opportunity to do it all again, I would like to think that I wouldn’t have helped him. But I know that I would have. Maybe people would praise me for it but all I feel is bitterness for owning this bleeding heart, this bleeding heart that won me a medal of regret, of sacrificing my goals to help someone else, a symbol that tells me I’m not someone to compete. And yet I made a stupid decision yesterday. I signed up for a marathon. I bought myself running shoes. I guess I want to give it another shot, even with this bleeding heart, the heart that made me do the “right thing”. We’ll see the results of it all at the end.

[lightbearcuddles]

The Unkind Mind