Chapter Text
'Not again' Percy thought with a bit of a whine to his voice.
He stared at the Fates.
They stared back.
He observed them silently some more.
They observed him silently as well. Noting that the first one looked like a kid, the middle an adult, and the end one a bitter old woman.
...
It was a strange staring contest, a deadly one.
Or, it probably should have been.
It didn't seem to him that they were here to cut his cord. They didn't even have their fruit stand this time. They just stood there, silently staring at him in the dark vastness of his dream.
Assessing.
Waiting.
Planning.
Cause that was always it with deities was it? They're always planning to ask something of him, and it was always annoying. Especially when they personally showed themselves to him, coming to talk about some "urgent matter".
Hadn't they done enough the past years? Couldn't they find some other, more willing, less retired demigod to do their bidding?
He stared at them some more.
He didn't really mean that.
Better it be him, rather than some other poor untrained and underprepared 12 year old again.
"Perseus Jackson," the middle one spoke, Lachesis, his mind whispers, "We come to you in need of assistance."
'Great, another quest. What is it this time? Finding their long lost 4th sister in a day?' He thought sarcastically.
"Nothing with such a short deadline, Perseus," The one on his left says, Clotho, he thinks, "in fact, not much of one will be given."
Okay. Ominous, he's mildly intrigued now.
"But it's still a quest," he says with mild annoyance. Fates who control his life in front of him be damned.
"In the sense that there is an inevitable prophecy to be fulfilled," the one to his right, Atropos, the end, says. "Quite a new one too." She says a bit distastefully.
Now that gives Percy pause. Another prophecy, aaallllllways with the prophecies. But, 'A new one? Werent they all written down in those books?' His brow furrowed.
"It is new, because it were thought not quite possible," Atropos grew agitated, "until those blasted wars" she spat.
"Peace, sister," Clotho began, lightly patting her arm, she turned to Percy again, "but, yes Perseus, all great prophecies were once written down in the sibylline books. This newest one appeared to Apollo only recently after his restoration to his godhood."
Okay..."But what makes you all so sure this one will be about me?" He pressed a bit thoughtlessly, and then felt a bit silly once he realized.
Luckily, the goddesses looked at him with different levels of mirth, instead of being smite-happy.
"Aside from the fact that we have already begun to weave the thread of the prophecy in, it is obvious once you have heard it, and take recent events into consideration." Lachesis says, "which brings us to our question."
Then, things got strange. The area they were in grew chiller, darker. Like a cold night on a beach that was about to storm.
"Would you like to go back?" They ask, voices in a sort of echo of one another.
"I– What?" Percy asks back, confusedly. 'What does that mean? I swear, if I have to do mental gymnastics one more time–"
"Would you like to go back, Percy Jackson? Go back and help elongate their lives?"
Their meaning washed over him then. He felt cold. Unresponsive. He stared at them, barely breathing, dreading their next words, yet hopeful in them as they started to elaborate.
Clotho, the spinner, began to speak , "too many threads frayed during those wars."
"Threads that still had plans," spoke Lachesis, the weaver.
As they spoke, Percy felt a sense of shock rushing through his veins, he felt horrorified, rage washing over him like the tides. Eyes swirling with thoughts, he grit his teeth in an attempt to calm himself.
"Threads I didn't plan to cut yet, threads I didn't get to cut before they snapped with tension." Atropos had spat.
He swallowed down his emotions best he could, but the thoughts kept arising. Crashing into his brain like boats upon jagged rock.
Lives were lost during wars, he knew that there were always going to be lives lost. War was unfair, shit happens, he knew that no matter how many plans made, there would always be a casualty.
When he looked around the camps after every war he'd always wondered if anything could have changed. If anything could have gone better. He thought of who he could have saved, who would still be here, what would they think of the camps now? He thought, he thought, he thought, it was always just a thought . Never reality.
"And so we ask you, son of the sea, do you wish to go backwards? Back to when your stories plans began to be, when they were fresh. Back to when those threads were still strong and filled with life, filled with a Fate. Before they were frayed, broken, or cut."
But this. This was a chance. And he'd be dammed if he passed it up.
"I accept," he said solemnly, yet readily. "But I have to ask, will I have help in this?" He once again stared into their eyes, hopeful, yet fearing he may have overstepped with that question.
They stared back, "of course, we would not have our champion go in this alone."
Clotho waved her hand, and in a misty scene appeared the others.
Turning to peer at the first figure, there stood Apollo, in his form of Lester, nodding at him.
He looked towards the others, and his heart clenched.
He saw his family. His father, and his mothers waving at him.
Clotho spoke again, "you may also tell whomever you think should best be in the know. But, do know that there will be a price for pay for that."
Turning back toward the Fates, he nodded, knowing now that this was all rhe information he would get, "thank you, I–" he paused , glancing briefly back at the others, " I am ready to hear the prophecy."
They smiled at him, "we knew you would accept."
'Creepy', he thought a little, 'but okay, whatever.'
Then, they looked more serious, and he grew a bit worried that this was all some sort of test he failed, "But first, we must warn you," oh boy, "this time line, with all its faults, is dying."
"And... and what does that mean for me?" Percy swallowed thickly, brows furrowing.
Clotho elaborated for him, "That we cannot send you back in this universe's timeline, but we can send you to anothers."
"Would things I know be different?"
"But of course," Lachesis spoke, he winced, of course things would be different– "you will be there to change things how you see fit. After all, you will still have your memories. How you choose to use them is up to you. The myths, and the general scenarios that happen on your quest should be in roughly the same order as well. Are you still fine with continuing?"
Oh. Well, thats not that bad then. He thought there would be more to that, like there would be some other more terrible threats, like a billion drakons roaming the Earth or something. He nodded, and then things got... bright.
They spoke in unison, "As child of seas conscious is shifted,
Gifted with change he takes the story reigns closefisted.
Stream in hand, he changes worldview,
Using knowledge known to only a few.
Threads once frayed too thin now shall mend,
Lives now saved, slowly he will transcend."
Before he could really comprehend that last part, his only thought was, 'wow do I feel like a plant that's being misted with a spray bottle right now.'
And it was lights out.