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Percy ran, each footfall digging further and further into the earth as the weight in his arms grew heavier and heavier. He didn’t dare look back behind him, the sounds of battle already too familiar — for a reason he didn’t know — to the point he knew exactly what was happening.
Frank volleyed arrow after arrow, shooting at the gorgons with his bow as they twisted and weaved through the air, trying to strike and slash him with their claws. Percy had never fought anything that flew before, nor fought with a bow — not that he remembered — but he knew it as if the sounds were engraved in his bones.
June cackled, kicking her feet in delight as they grew closer and closer to the river bank.
It was then, when the soil grew softer and his next step would have been in water, that he finally stopped mid stride and hesitated for the first time since leaving the wolves.
Hazel had no problems diving in and wading through the water, but Percy couldn’t. For a reason he didn’t know how to explain, he couldn’t. There was something off about the water, something that didn’t align with his very being.
“The Little Tiber,” said June sympathetically, patting his shoulder in faux comfort. “It flows with the power of the original Tiber, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out, child. The mark of Achilles is a Greek blessing. You can’t retain it if you cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will wash it away.”
Percy was too exhausted to understand what any of that meant, felt dead on his feet and wanted to collapse on the very spot, but he got the main point. “If I cross, I won’t have iron skin anymore?”
June’s smile stretched and stretched, far beyond the point of what was natural. It was uncanny, unsettling, and Percy was stuck staring as his damnation poured from her lips, “So what will it be? Safety, or a future of pain and possibility?”
Percy forced his gaze away and over his shoulder, back to where Frank was fighting further up the hill. He gestured at Percy rapidly, urging him to go on before shooting out another arrow. Hazel did the same, calling out from the middle of the river, “Percy, c’mon on!”
Taking a deep breath, Percy continued forward.
As he stepped into the water, he felt a… weird sensation. The cool water brushed against his shoe, up his ankle, a brief and barely there kiss against his skin before being replaced with a much colder substitute. An eerie gray liquid —- still water, but different in a way Percy knew deep down to the core of his very being. Different, painful, yet all too similar.
The liquid rose from where Percy knew not, breaking through the clear blue of the Little Tiber to wrap around his body, the cloudy water covering him and blocking the clear from touching his skin again.
June squirmed in his arms, pulling herself higher and higher the deeper he waded into the river until her body was level with his chest, doing everything she could to get away from the gray water. All traces of amusement were gone faster than Percy could keep track. If he had to guess, he would say that she almost looked scared. Terrified, even.
Percy couldn’t stop, though, not even if he wanted, not with the continuous sounds of fighting behind him and faux-calm urges to go faster from his arms.
He kept going, fighting the current that threatened to drag him down, down, down; fighting against both himself and the water that wrapped around him, covering more and more of his body with every step he took.
It burned, hurt more than anything Percy remembered experiencing, yet no matter how much Percy moved or how fast the water of the river flowed, it clung to his skin tighter than his clothes.
More volleys of arrows were released over his head. Yells and cries of war rose in the direction he was headed, all geared toward the gorgons still flitting about.
By the time Percy reached the other side and finally stepped back onto dry land, the cloudy, gray water surrounded him up to his chest. June leaped from his arms, landing on her side and scrambling away as far as she could go, backing up straight into the legs of the quickly growing crowd of onlookers.
The water surged over him, completely out of his control, coating over every single part of his body for a moment before thinning out to coil around each limb in turn. He felt a caress against his skin, his legs, his arms, his head that burned everywhere it touched but simultaneously felt warm and caring, curling around his body like a snake and against his skin possessively.
Percy barely had time to react, the sounds of yelling and shrieks breaking him out of any potential reverie and helping him focus on the task at hand. He turned, reaching out with his hands and into his gut to call on that all-too familiar tugging sensation. It was hard to focus as lines of burning liquid curled through each one of his fingers, up and down his arm and torso, liquid he couldn’t control, but he had no choice.
As he reached out with the other hand, the Little Tiber copied him, grabbing the gorgons to smash together and drown in its current, the water moving too quickly for the dust to clump back together into a monster.
Then, with safety ensured and people watching, the cloudy water twisted up Percy’s chest and neck, cupping his cheeks before dissipating into the air. No one had a second to breathe before the clouds were moving, the sky realigning to form a face up above, and a voice boomed out around them, reverberating off the hills of the valley.
“Perseus Jackson,” the voice called, the clouds taking a neutral expression, “it seems an interloper tried to rob you of the blessing I generously gifted.” June, still sitting on the ground with her back to various legs, froze. “What do you have to say for yourself, Juno?”
The woman — June? Juno? — rose, standing tall despite her minute trembling and lifting her chin confidently. “I need him.”
“He’s mine,” the voice called out, the sky angry, shaking the very ground they all stood on. “The decision of what happens to him and the blessing I bestowed is not up to you, nor can it be removed by something as simple as an offshoot river nymph.”
“But he needs to enter the camp, and he cannot do so with a Greek-“ June tried to argue — because she thought it was a good idea to argue with the clouds.
“What he needs is not up to you,” the voice replied, sharp and cutting and offering no room for further argument. The air was still, heavy, oppressive. “My blessing is not something that can be merely washed away so easily, especially not when having it is inconvenient, else more would have received it and it would have lost its value.
“My blessings, my power, my name is not something to be taken lightly.” The voice grew tense, quieted from its booming nature to something much crueler, a threat spoken in the harshest way imaginable. “Or have you already forgotten, like your husband, what it means to swear on the Styx?”
Whispers arose from the crowd, heads turned and people leaning into one another, eyes all glued to Percy as he stood there in confusion. He’s sure he’s heard of the Styx before, he’s sure of it, but he can’t remember-
June’s face tightened, her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists. She seemed angry, displeased, but she still dropped her head in a quick bow with a muttered, “I have not,” and she disappeared quickly in a flash of light.
The oppressive air around them calmed and lightened, like a warm spring day washing away the coldness of winter, and Percy swore he felt the air form hands to cup his cheeks yet again. “My little champion,” the voice cooed, and although it was still quiet, it was now soft, almost gentle as the clouds adjusted into a parental smile and its attention turned onto Percy.
“You need not fear the goddess Juno and her meddling, nor the loss of your iron skin. That is my gift to give, mine to take away, and I find you are still worthy.
“Regain your memories, fight for what you know is true, find your anchor, and do not disappoint me, young one. I will be watching.”
And as quickly as the presence had arrived over the valley, it was gone. The clouds rearranged themselves to their normal position, no longer mirroring a face, the air behaved as air does, and when Percy pinched himself, he felt nothing.
He still had his iron skin, it seemed, and he could feel one less set of eyes drilling into him, meaning Juno probably took the voice’s words to heart and would leave him alone from now on.
He did, however, see what almost looked like a wink up above when he chanced another glance at the sky.
He wasn’t entirely free from divine intervention after all, it seemed, and had gained a new set of eyes watching over him.