Coming of Age (Percy Jackson)

A/N: Here's the new Chapter! Which also means the next four chapters are up on my Patreon for early access as well as the chance to vote on the direction of the story!

Percy confronts his God-Uncle.

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It was extremely tempting to try and sneak in. The Lord of the Underworld’s Palace was a big fucking place and he was pretty sure they could have slipped inside even with everyone on high alert… if they were lucky. And in doing so, maybe they could have found out more about this damn mystery. If Hades was behind the theft of Zeus’ Master Bolt, then Percy might have tried it.

There were just two problems with the idea of sneaking in. Number One, attempting to sneak in and then failing to do so would have closed more doors than it opened. It would have ended any chance at diplomacy, no matter what Percy said. And number two… Percy was becoming more and more confident that Hades wasn’t the true culprit here. That he was a patsy, just as much as Percy was.

Glancing back at the entrance of the cave the flying shoes had zipped off into, Percy’s jaw clenches for a moment before he shakes his head. No, there’s only one way forward now he’s pretty sure.

“Let’s get this over with. Let’s go try and talk down a god.”

Annabeth, Clarisse, and Grover are all quiet as they follow Percy up the main path towards the Palace. He fully expects them to be stopped and even has his hand on Riptide’s pen form in his pocket, ready to uncap and draw the sword of Celestial Bronze in a heartbeat if it proves necessary. He’s especially keeping an eye on the Furies up above the palace’s parapets, half-expecting them to come swooping down to attack him and his allies at any moment.

… But that doesn’t happen. And soon enough, Percy can’t focus all of his wary attention on the Furies, because the closer they get to the Palace, the more guards he sees. Admittedly, he begins to feel rather good about his decision to try diplomacy instead of subterfuge. The guards that Hades ‘employs’ at his palace… they’re all military. Each and every one of them.

Percy recognizes what must be dozens of different military uniforms, spread out across hundreds if not thousands of years of progress. On top of that, all of them were skeletal, and though none stopped him and his party for even a second, it was decidedly unnerving having a skeleton in full tactical gear with an M-16 following Percy with its hollow eye sockets on one side, while a skeleton dressed as a Roman Legionnaire wielding sword and shield followed Percy on the other side.

Very unnerving. Percy grimaces, even as he straightens his back, feeling the weight of Ares’ duffel on his back more than ever at this point.

Finally, they reach a large set of double doors. Looking around, Percy notes two skeletons wearing the gear of U.S. Marines guarding said doors with grenade launchers in their grasps. But they didn’t seem inclined to stop them. Frowning, Percy steps forward and prepares to knock, only for the doors to swing open of their own accord and the guards to step aside.

“… I guess we’re expected.”

Before he can take more than another step forward, Annabeth reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Percy… be careful.”

Looking back at her, he gives a crooked smile.

“I’ll try.”

Through the double doors, they find themselves in a throne room. It’s the first throne room Percy has been in, to be fair. But at the same time… it felt almost otherworldly in its nature. Hades was seated upon his throne before them, and while he was the third god that Percy had met after Hestia and Ares, he was definitely the most imposing god Percy had ever met until this point.

Hestia had felt godly in her domain, but in a warm way that left Percy feeling safe. Ares, meanwhile, had always felt like he was trying too hard. Hades doesn’t have either of those problems. The God of the Underworld is at least ten feet tall, and dressed in silken black robes that match his pure white skin. He had a golden crown atop his head that contrasted nicely with his jet black hair.

Hades positively radiated power… and menace. Though to be fair, the fact that his throne was clearly made of fused bones might have something to do with that. All in all, he was a Big Dog in this place. He was so strong that fighting him wasn’t ever a good idea. Percy feels more relieved than ever that he hadn’t tried to sneak into the palace. He’s glad because really, Hades should-

Percy grimaces. The Lord of the Underworld’s aura was trying to effect him. The Godlike power that the Greek Deity wielded was trying to seep into his mind. He wouldn’t let it.

“You are quite brave to come here, Son of Poseidon. After your crimes against me, you are either very brave indeed… or supremely foolish.”

Crimes? Was Hades talking about infiltrating the Underworld? That’s the only thing Percy can think of really. But it wasn’t like they could just ask for a meeting up top, now could they? Hades didn’t even have a cabin in Camp Half-Blood, or a throne on Mount Olympus. He was truly apart from the Realm of the Living and the affairs of the other gods.

Percy wondered if the Lord of the Underworld was happy with that state of affairs. Either way… he had to press on. Forcing himself to ignore the current feelings that Hades’ aura is trying to push upon him, Percy steps forward.

“Lord Hades… I have come to ask for your help.”

That brings everyone in the throne room, not just Hades, pause. The God of the Dead’s eyes narrow and he leans forward on his throne, resting his chin on a fist. There’s an intense fury barely contained in his eyes as he sneers at Percy.

“My… help? The arrogance on you… bah! And what help would I give, hm? Speak and perhaps I shall not kill you just yet.”

Yeah, that was a very real possibility. Percy had kind of known that going in. He’d come anyways, hadn’t he. Still… in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Someone has framed us, Lord Hades. Both of us. Someone wants Lord Zeus to believe that Lord Poseidon had me steal his Master Bolt, when I wasn’t even aware of my true heritage at the time of its theft. That same entity wants me and my friends to believe that you stole Lord Zeus’ Master Bolt, and has contrived to have me come here to try and get it back from you. They want my presence here to incite you to join the war between my father and Lord Zeus. Instead… instead, I’ve come in the hopes that you will help me put an end to this, once and for all.”

Silence falls as Percy finishes speaking. The ball is in Hades’ court now, but the Lord of the Underworld is frozen upon his throne, staring at Percy without saying a word. Time itself almost seems to stand still, until Hades finally speaks, his tone as oily and dark as ever.

“Foolish demigod. Do you think me so easily taken in? That I will be thankful for being brought into your confidences, and ignore the obvious right in front of me?”

The obvious right in front of him? Percy grimaces.

“I’m not… I’m not sure I understand, Lord Hades. I-!”

“Oh yes you do!”

The doors to the throne room suddenly burst open. Percy looks back, stiffening… but there’s no point in trying anything as hundreds of skeletons pour into the room, blocking all possible exits and representing overwhelming firepower. It’s certainly an incredible show of force, though privately Percy feels like Hades could kill them all with a single flick of his finger if he wanted to. Or maybe that was the god’s aura talking. Maybe he wasn’t as personally strong as he seemed.

Either way, it didn’t matter. If it came down to a fight, they were royally fucked.

“You didn’t just take Zeus’ Master Bolt on the Winter Solstice, little thief. You took my helm as well!”

Wait, what? Percy jolts in shock, baffled by this development. Beside him, Annabeth can’t help but pipe up, sounding just as bewildered thankfully.

“L-Lord Hades?! Your Helm of Darkness is missing as well?!”

The god scoffs, throwing out a hand in Annabeth’s direction. Thankfully it’s just a dismissive gesture and not an expression of power intended to turn her into a tree or a toad or something.

“Don’t play games with me, Daughter of Athena. You think me a fool? Does Poseidon truly think I will succumb to blackmail? My brother has lost touch with reality and his perception of me if he thinks I am so easily forced into submission.”

Wha- blackmail? No, but Percy could sort of see it. He could understand what Hades meant, kind of. He thought they’d come here to tell Hades he had to side with Poseidon in the upcoming war or else he wouldn’t get his Helm of Darkness back. This… Percy’s mind reels. This changed things. But at the same time, he can’t help but be a little angry, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his teeth grinding together.

“Lord Hades… I am no thief. I did not take Lord Zeus’ Master Bolt. And I did not take your Helm of Darkness. Please believe me.”

But the Lord of the Underworld isn’t having it… and for startlingly good reason, as it turns out.

“Oh?! And why should I, whelp? Were you so arrogant to believe that I would not be able to detect my brother’s favored tool simply because you hid it from my sight?!”

For a moment, Percy doesn’t understand. And then… it dawns on him what Hades is talking about and his heart sinks in his chest. Almost uncaring of the angry god before him or the hundreds of skeletal warriors surrounding them, Percy unslings the duffel from his back, sets it down on the ground, and unzips it.

There, sitting in the center of the duffel bag, is a spiked metal cylinder, easily two feet long and humming with power… a god’s power at that.

“Percy, how-?!”

“Ares.”

Percy doesn’t even hesitate. Annabeth falls silent at his answer. Clarisse flinches. And Hades… Hades scoffs.

“Ares? What of the whelp?”

Feeling more and more confident by the moment, Percy stands back up, back straight and shoulders squared.

“Lord Hades… Uncle. I now know who stole your Helm of Darkness. And who framed us both. It was Ares, God of War.”

Hades’ eyes narrow and his nostrils flare.

“Oh?”

He clearly doesn’t believe Percy for even a second. But Percy has to try. Gesturing to the duffel bag, Percy does his best to lay out the evidence.

“It was Ares who gave us this duffel bag in the first place. Ares who made sure we got to the West Coast, to LA, so that we could come down here and confront you. Ask yourself this, Lord Hades… who benefits the most from a war between the Big Three? Is it really my father? By all rights, if I was the thief, all my father has done is incite your wrath as surely as Lord Zeus’. Why would he want that? Why would he want to force you both to fight him?”

Hades slams a fist onto the arm of his chair.

“So that he could be the undisputed ruler of Olympus! So that he could subjugate or supplant us both, his most powerful rivals!”

Percy shakes his head.

“My father has enough on his hands as it is with seventy percent of the world’s surface being covered in water… as I’m sure you do as well, handling all the world’s dead.”

He finds himself thinking of the Asphodel Fields. How they stretched on for eternity. And how the entrance to the Underworld was a bunch of fucking lines. It couldn’t be easy, dealing with all of the dead stretching on forever and ever. And judging by the appraising look in Hades’ eyes, Percy had hit the nail on the head.

“Really, of the three of you, its Lord Zeus who would be the most inclined to try and find a way to curtail yours and my father’s influence and power. But we both know Lord Zeus would never give up his Master Bolt willingly, even to use in such a scheme as this. No, the Master Bolt WAS stolen… and so was your Helm of Darkness. By Ares. Ares, who would benefit the most from a war between you, my father, and Lord Zeus. Ares, who gave us this duffel bag and planted the Master Bolt on my person in the process.”

Silence falls again as Hades contemplates Percy’s words. Percy can’t help but feel like he might actually be getting somewhere with the Lord of the Underworld. And hey, he didn’t even have to go so far as to tell Hades about his even greater suspicion. Though maybe he still should? Eh, fuck it.

“… And I don’t think Ares is the mastermind either, Lord Hades. From what I’ve seen of him so far, he wouldn’t be so capable.”

Sorry Clarisse, but it was true. Hades, meanwhile, lets out an involuntary chuckle at that, amused in spite of his anger.

“Oh?”

“… I believe that Ares has been turned against you all… by your father Kronos, the Titan of Time.”

That… that truly brings everything to a standstill. Even the hundreds of skeletons lining the room don’t produce a single clack as they freeze up at Percy’s words. Hades himself freezes in place for a moment, a flash of fear appearing upon his face before he sneers to try and cover it up.

“Impossible. The Titan King is locked away in Tartarus, trapped for all eternity.”

Percy shakes his head.

“I don’t think he’s escaped, Lord Hades. But I do believe he’s managed to accumulate a few minions. I had a dream about ‘The Crooked One’. Ares worked so hard to get me to the Underworld. And most damning of all… I was given a pair of flying sneakers by a fellow camper before we left Camp Half-Blood. Flying sneakers that, the moment we got close enough, tried to fly their wearer straight into the Pit of Tartarus itself, located next to your Palace. If everything had gone according to Kronos’ plan, he would have me and the Master Bolt right now.”

There it was, all laid out like that, it felt right to Percy’s ears. It felt… true. And damn did it feel good to properly unravel this mystery. Even if Hades didn’t believe him, at least he could say he’d tried. And worst comes to worst… he still had the pearls from the Nereid.

[ ] Hades doesn't believe Percy at all - 3%