✩ ━━━ chapter one, ptolemaea . ❝You got the world but baby at what price. I'd follow you down,❞

"WHY HOPE WAS INSIDE PANDORA'S JAR?"

Percy exhaled softly, eyes fluttering behind closed lids as he lay still, his lips slightly parted.

Slowly and reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The sky above him is beautiful—a pomegranate pink hue, melting into soft violets with bursts of dulcet orange; the colors blended seamlessly amongst the ivory clouds as if painted by an artist's brush. Around him, tall-growing plants and lush green grass swayed melodiously with the pleasant wind. The mountainous area was dotted with various translucent stones and blossoms adorned with bright four-petaled flowers of all sorts of shifting colors. The air was laden with a rich floral scent, carrying whispers of jasmine and lavender.

It's a familiar sight of perfection—a dreamscape.
There is only one person who could have created it.

"I've wondered about it my entire life," the voice continued. "It's interesting. I thought I'd figured it out—and many others did, too. They believed that Zeus placed hope inside the pithos to make sure humans wouldn't give up—to ensure that humans suffered a hopeless eternity just like Prometheus."

Through tearful eyes, Percy asked, "Why?"

Micah smiled, false kindness and patience carved in those lips like a deceitful mask. "I thought I would tell you a story while you're here. You've always liked my voice, haven't you?"

The son of Hypnos maintained his unrelenting gaze, his cruel golden eyes fixated on Percy. "Now, did you think about my question, Pretty Percy?" He persisted, the feathers of his wings rustling with anticipation. "Why was hope inside Pandora's Jar?"

He shook his head wildly, his breathing picking up as he looked around the surrealistic scene. "Nico—Beckendorf? What did you do to them?"

"Careful, Percy, you are making me jealous. Always worrying about others. Am I not right here with you?" Micah hummed faintly, his hands caressing down the side of Percy's face. He smiled when the son of Poseidon began to tremble under his touch. "But I suppose it's okay if it's Nico—I've always liked him. The son of Hades is alive and well, meddling in matters that aren't his concern. He's a good ally to have. That's two things for your pretty head to think about now, though: Nico di Angelo and Pandora's Jar."

He seethed with frustration, unable to stand the word pretty now. Ripping Micah's hand from his face was the closest Percy could get to satisfying the urge to crush those fingers in his grip. "Where's Beckendorf, Micah?" He demanded, though his voice was strained and ragged, lacking the weight and authority it once held.

Percy ached to know when he'd finally stop being weak in his presence.

The son of Hypnos studied him with champagne-colored eyes, his hand moving to cusp his chin. "What's the last thing you remember, Percy?" Micah inquired with a lightness in his tone, a hint of apathy dulling his voice. It was clear he didn't care about the answer—he didn't care about the son of Poseidon or the things they had done together.

Looking at him, so close and so beautiful—shockingly beautiful, reaching a level of divinity akin to that of angels—it angered Percy. How could Micah look fine after betraying Olympus? After betraying the camp and abandoning all the half-bloods who depended on him?

How could he appear so unchanged after leaving Percy?

He felt like he had a gaping hole in his chest, as if a part of him had been ripped away and it would continue to bleed forever.

"Blowing up the Princess Andromeda," Percy answered bitterly. "I guess you weren't on board, unfortunately—otherwise you would be dead."

"Unfortunately," Micah echoed with a faint smile. "Beckendorf is dead. Your body is currently floating somewhere along the Panama Canal. Poseidon will find you and take you home."

"Beckendorf is dead?" Percy laughed harshly, a little hysterical.

"He died? Because of you! You do realize that, Micah?"

"Don't talk nonsense, Percy." Micah waved his hand. "Princess Andromeda was Luke's plan. It's all too grand for me. I am more cost-efficient than that."

Covering his face with his hands, Percy choked back a cry, unable to see the person he had become without wanting to scream and plead with the Fates for a reason why. "Why do you keep doing this to me?" He begged, nearing the edge of panic. "You pledged your loyalty to Kronos. You abandoned me, so why do you keep jumping in my dreams? Don't you realize that it hurts me?"

The silence was tranquil, calm, and unhurried, as if the war wasn't threatening them—as if Micah and Percy didn't stand on opposite sides of the battle. He looked at Percy, his eyebrows tangled in an accusatory frown, like Percy's words offended him. It was as if it were the first time seeing the son of Poseidon without a disguise on, and he was bothered by what was underneath.

Lack of compassion, Annabeth had whispered once. Lack of emotion, apathy, the inability to understand, the worse and most dangerous flaw.

The sickly-sweet smell of the meadow's flowers did nothing to lessen the ache inside Percy's chest. Shaking his head, Micah laughed away the sincerity of Percy's words as if they didn't mean anything. "Alright, I can see you're a little moody, Percy, so I'll tell you right now."

"Hope," Micah grinned, savoring the taste of the word on his tongue. "Hope was inside Pandora's Jar because, Percy, it allows you to act as if you had control over the future."

Above him, the sky flickered erratically, reminiscent of an old television struggling with a faulty signal. Percy's heart sank as the realization dawned that it would soon be over.

"And Percy," Micah said, reaching for his hand, intertwining their fingers together when he allowed it. "Nothing is more dangerous than the person who acts with a sense of the future."

Percy wanted to argue with Micah just to disagree with him—to kiss him to make him fall silent and punch his teeth in for hurting him so often—but the sky went all black, disappearing completely as the son of Hypnos rose their intertwined hands to his head, cradling them to his cheek as if it were the most precious thing in the world to him.

"Think about it, Percy." Micah's words dripped from his lips, his eyes holding the cunning gaze of a serpent. "Nico may be your source of hope."

And he snapped his fingers.

Everything dissolved into nothingness, enveloping Percy in the obscurity of a dreamless sleep.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The sea itself was torn apart by the two armies and the only thing Percy could do as he arrived at Camp Half-Blood was laugh. After announcing the death of Beckendorf and destroying any fleeting happiness the destruction of Princess Andromeda caused, only Annabeth and Chiron stayed.

Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm glad you're not dead, Seaweed Brain."

I guess you weren't on board, unfortunately. Otherwise you would be dead too. Percy nodded at her. "Thanks, Annabeth."

Did he truly mean those words?

Micah—Aa far as the Olympians knew—is the show runner of the war and Kronos' favorite servant pet. If he is the enemy then why did the thought of hurting him caused Percy so much pain? Why couldn't he stop thinking of Micah?

"Poseidon mentioned another threat. Something even bigger than Princess Andromeda." Percy included a little numbly, nearly forgetting. He wanted to mention the dreamscape but then Annabeth would try to find a way to keep Micah away from Percy's dreams. "I thought it might be that challenge the Titan, Krios, had mentioned in my dream."

"We will discuss that also," Chiron promised.

Inhaling deeply, Percy tried to ignore his racing thoughts as he fought to focus. "One more thing. When I talked to my father, he said to tell you it's time. I need to know the full prophecy."

Chiron's shoulders sagged, but he didn't look surprised. "I've dreaded this day. Very well. Annabeth, we will show Percy the truth—All of it. Let's go to the attic." Nodding, Chiron walked ahead. Annabeth hesitated. "Are you okay, Percy?"

Percy let out a short laughed. They were fighting a hopeless war; how could he be okay? They lost Beckendorf. His father, for all Percy knew, is as dead as a God can be. He lost Micah. "Yeah, Wise Girl." He smiled tiredly. "Don't worry about me."

They didn't speak on the way to the attic of the Big House, where the decomposing body of the long-dead the Oracle of Delphi rested.

The Oracle, clad in a comical tie-dye dress and tufts of black hair that clung stubbornly to her skull brushed recently, sat a three-legged stool. Percy stared at the body with nothing short of disgust. Backwhen he had first arrived at the camp, he had wondered why it looked like a mummy. When he had asked, Annabeth just stared at him as if he was an idiot, and Percy had been too embarrassed to ask again.

Micah had been the one to explain to him the origin of the Oracle to him. That's what attracted Percy to Micah. For all Annabeth crooned about his lack of compassion, the son of Hypnos understood him in a way nobody else had. Helped him, protected him, fought for him, taught him, and allowed Percy to do the same for him.

Maybe that's why Percy felt Micah's loss more deeply than Luke's because when Micah betrayed him, he ripped apart the piece of Percy's heart that he thought would be forever safe in his possession.

Trust, Percy learned, is a horribly fragile thing.

"Let's just do our job and get out of here," Annabeth said, staring at him with apprehension. Glancing at the Oracle's withered face, Percy agreed.

The daughter of Athena approached the mummy and held out her palms, unclasped one of its necklaces as she muttered. "Oh Oracle, the time is at hand. I ask for the Great Prophecy,"

Searching inside the leather pouch, she pulled out a roll of parchment.

It was the Great Prophecy.

Percy scoffed. "You mean all these years, I've been asking about this stupid prophecy, and it's been right there around her neck?"

"The time wasn't right," Annabeth said. "Believe me, Percy, I read this when I was ten years old, and I still have nightmares about it."

Rolling his eyes, Percy headed downstairs to the war council with the daughter of Athena. He wanted to yell at Annabeth and Chiron that they had no right to keep the prophecy—the stupid prophecy that has controlled his, Thalia's, Nico's, and Bianca's existence—from them, but any argument with Annabeth and Chiron went to deaf ears.

Entering the war council, Percy pointedly ignored the senior counselors and sat on the ping-pong table. Clarisse La Rue and Michael Yew were too busy arguing about something to notice him. As Michael yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face to cry, "It's our loot! If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!" Percy felt a terrible feeling wash him.

They were all children: the Stoll brothers, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, Katie Gardner from Demeter. Jake Mason, the new counselor from Hephaestus. Even Silena Beauregard, who was the oldest at 18. Why were kids fighting a war? Against his will, Percy shivered, remembering the night Micah had left camp. The words he uttered with crazed eyes──We are human and perishable, fighting in a war of immortals.

With a renewed sense of anger, Percy yelled. "STOP IT! What are you guys doing?" Giving Clarisse a hard stare, the daughter of Ares scowled back. "Tell Michael not to be a selfish jerk."

"Oh, that's perfect, coming from you!" Michael said. Clarisse shouted, short-fused; "The only reason I'm here is to support Silena! Otherwise, I'd be back in my cabin."

"What are you talking about?" Percy demanded, thinking; he is a kid, too, so why was he given the title of war advisor?

Pollux cleared his throat. "Clarisse has refused to speak to any us, until her, um, issue is resolved. She hasn't spoken for three days."

Are you dumb enough to think you'll survive when you behave like this? Maybe if Percy had been a little rougher like Micah he could've said that. Instead, he asked. "What issue?"

Nobody answered. Percy scoffed, "Great. Really mature."

"Now," Chiron continued, "if you please, counselors. Percy has brought something I think you should hear. Percy—the Great Prophecy." Annabeth handed the son of Poseidon the parchment. Realizing that Clarissa's issue wouldn't be answered, uncurling the old paper, Percy began to read:

"A half-blood of the eldest dogs..."

"Er, Percy?" Annabeth interrupted. "That's gods. Not dogs."

"Right. A half-blood of the eldest gods . . . shall reach sixteen against all odds..." He hesitated, staring at the next lines. "And see the world in endless sleep, the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap." Percy felt his heart freeze, a cold feeling in his heart. Those words could mean a thousand and one things—But Percy knew better, smarter than before.

The Ancient Ones are simple, Percy, he could hear Micah whispering in his hear as if he were there next to him. They'll try to trick you with phrases; take the words as they are, and you'll find that the gods are not as cunning as history portrait them. Letting out a shaky exhale, he continued.

"A single choice shall... shall end his days. Olympus to per—pursue—"

"Preserve," Annabeth said gently. "It means to save."

"I know what it means," Percy grumbled. "Olympus to preserve or raze."

The room was silent. Finally, Connor Stoll said, "Raise is good, isn't it?"

"Not raise. R-a-z-e means to destroy" Silena said, voice hollow; she hasn't had time to grieve her boyfriend's death.

"Obliterate," Annabeth continued. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."

Percy interrupted, annoyed. "Got it. Thanks."

Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. "You see now, Percy, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've had enough on your shoulders—"

"Without realizing I was going to die in the end, anyway? Yeah, I get it." Percy shook his head. Feeling tired, Percy sat down, staring at Chiron's sad gaze. "Micah was right. We are all just tools for Olympus, and if we die, they'll just replace us."

Annabeth's eyes blazed. "Micah—"

"Shut up, Annabeth. Just. Shut up." Silena muttered tightly, eyes downcast.

Chiron regarded half-bloods sorrowfully but offered no reassurance. Three thousand years old and Percy wondered if Micah's betrayal was the last blow that shattered Chiron's heart beyond repair. For all that mattered, Chiron had been the parental figure in Micah's life that every half-blood longed for. Micah was raised in Camp Half-Blood, abandoned by his mother and cast away from a mortal life after discovering the blessing—or the curse—his father had given him on the very day of his birth: the wings, the signature feature of Hypnos, the God of Sleep, and his twin brother, Thanatos, the God of Peaceful Death.

Micah was the epitome of the word hero. More god than mortal, Chiron's shining pride. The son of a lesser God, yet extremely strong with high combat skill and terrifyingly intelligent. When Percy thought of Micah as the hero of one of those ancient stories like Hercules, tragedy seemed inevitable. But then again, Percy thought the same thing of his own self.

He just thought together, they could've changed their fates.

Percy sighed at his thoughts, and Chiron spoke up. "Perhaps we should let Percy think about these lines. He needs time to—"

"No." Percy folded up the prophecy, shoved it into his pocket with trembling hands. "I don't need time. If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right?"

Now, he is starting to believe fate is sealed before since before birth.

He was destined to die from the start.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
welcome to my pity lgbtq+ pjo fic because i want more lgbtq+ pjo fic stories. and i refuse to accept percy is heterosexual. because. he is percy. anyways he is a mess so far lol rn he is a raging gay in love so expect an average of 30 micah-related mentions per chapter

NEW NOTE:
Hi! If you're a new reader and don't like the writing, please know it improves!! give the story a chance lol

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