Chapter 64: Circe

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

Readers: "Yeah Percy, give that bitch the D!"

Circe: "Lol. Lmao, even."

-x-X-x-

Percy jolts back when he looks up and finds himself staring down Circe instead of looking at Annabeth and Thalia’s scrumptious backsides. Admittedly, the Goddess of Magic that Annabeth had brought back from her and Clarisse’s Quest wasn’t too bad either in the looks department, but Percy doesn’t let his guard down for even a second.

Given everything he knew about Circe and the warnings Hestia had given him as well, Percy was well aware that the Goddess in front of him probably hated his guts.

Circe smirks at the caution she sees in his stance, and Percy definitely detects a hint of maliciousness in her smile. She looks him up and down for a moment before snorting derisively.

“You’re something of a man whore, aren’t you Percy Jackson?”

Percy blinks at the insult. It’s kind of out of left field, isn’t it? Still, he doesn’t let it get to him. Circe is the last person he should be letting his guard down around, but on the flip side, he also can’t let her draw him into a fight or anything like that. Instead, straightening up, he holds his head high and ignores her comment.

“Can I help you with something, Goddess?”

Scoffing, Circe rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“So polite when it suits your interests. And so ready to descend into debauchery the moment another woman falls for your looks and big fat cock.”

Percy flushes at the crassness at the end. For a moment he wants to ask her what the fuck she thinks she knows about his cock, before remembering how Athena broadcast their coupling to every Goddess who was willing to watch. Damn it Athena…

“Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, mind you.”

Wait, what? Percy’s brain stutter steps for a moment as Circe suddenly changes tack in a way he’s not expecting. What does she mean it’s not a bad thing.

Laughing at the poleaxed expression on his face, Circe shakes her head.

“You just need to be more honest with yourself, boy. You’re already a step above the likes of Odysseus and Jason and so many other hypocritical examples of your sex.”

He… was? What was Circe even talking about? How the hell was someone like Percy supposed to ever compare favorably to someone like Odysseus? Jason… well, Percy knew enough about Jason of the Argonauts to know he had made a lot of mistakes but even still. Sure, he knew that Circe and Odysseus had beef, but what made Percy better in her eyes?

“Really? Do I have to spell it out for you? I already said before. You’re a man whore. And you don’t lie about it either.”

Percy just stares, even as Circe scowls angrily and waves a hand through the air.

“Most men refuse to acknowledge their bestial nature. Most refuse to accept that deep down inside, they are creatures of lust and physical attraction and little else. So-called ‘heroes’ like Odysseus or Jason will marry and take wives, only to set them aside or betray them at the first opportunity of supping on another woman’s flesh. They act as though they can think with something else besides that little head betwixt their legs, when we both know that’s not the case.”

Reeling from Circe’s misandrist beliefs, Percy can’t even muster up a response as Circe continues on with a wicked smirk.

“You, at least, don’t pretend to be anything that you’re not. While it is a little disappointing how easily women are drawn into your orbit… at least they go in with both eyes widen open most of the time. You make no secret of your whorish ways, and that makes you better than most of your pathetic excuse for a gender.”

Okay. That was… a lot to unpack. Like, a lot-a lot. Percy didn’t even really know where to begin, truth be told. Obviously, his first instinct is to argue her points because needless to say, he didn’t fucking agree with her. Sure, some men could be pigs… but women weren’t always much better. And just because she’d had bad experiences with a handful of men literally thousands of years ago didn’t mean all men were just as bad in the modern era.

He hesitates to argue though because… it kind of sounded like Circe was saying she liked him? Or at least, she didn’t hate him. And that was kind of big, right? Because Hestia had said it herself, Circe was a consummate man-hater.

The other reason Percy doesn’t bother trying to argue with Circe is… well, she’s not going to change her mind just because of anything he says, obviously. She’s a literal Goddess who has been around for a long, long time. People her age are usually set in their ways beyond the capacity for reasoning or logic of rational debate. So really, why even bother?

Instead, setting aside the strange half-rant, half-explanation that Circe has just given him, Percy decides to focus on what matters. Specifically the here and now. The present. Because frankly, when Circe had initially peeled him away for this chat, he’d assumed she was doing so to deliver an ultimatum in a similar vein as Athena had tried to. Now though…

“… So you’re not going to tell me to stay away from Annabeth or else?”

Circe blinks… and then scoffs, rolling her eyes at that.

“Would it work? Of course not. I’ve already told the Goddess of the Hearth that I’m going to play nice while within her territory. And I intend to keep that promise. I have no intentions of rocking the boat, so to speak. Annabeth COULD do better than you of course… but I’ll leave that for the two of you to figure out in due time, rather than try to meddle in your affairs. So long as you don’t distract her from her lessons, we won’t have a problem on that front.”

… Shockingly and surprisingly reasonable. It was the last thing that Percy ever expected to hear from Circe, which just makes him more suspicious truth be told. Clearly she was planning something, right? Both in general and in the more specific short term sense. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken him aside for this chat in the first place.

Still, the knowledge that Hestia is watching over him even now does give Percy a certain degree of confidence and comfort. As does knowing that she already extracted a promise from Circe about fucking around with any of the men in Camp Half-Blood.

That all said though, it just brings Percy back around to his first question.

“So we return to what I asked before. Can I help you with something, Goddess?”

Circe smirks at his slightly impatient tone. Letting out a light laugh, she shakes her head.

“Of course not. Despite the changes you’re currently going through, you’re still just a demigod… and I am a Goddess. No, you cannot help me. But I can help you.”

Okay… seriously? Percy doesn’t even bother holding back the incredulous deadpan look he gives her at that. Help him? Her? Yeah right.

The Goddess of Magic just shrugs.

“Take my advice or don’t. But I really am trying to help you. Simply put… you should do everything in your power to avoid completing your ascension to godhood, Percy Jackson.”

… Was that what this was all about? All of this beating around the bush, all of this buttering him up? She just wanted to make sure he didn’t become a God? To be fair, Percy could understand why Circe wouldn’t want another male divinity running around. And hell, it wasn’t like he necessarily wanted to be a God either. Still though, was that really the only reason Circe had for all of this?

“Hestia made it pretty clear that the process was all but irreversible and that I didn’t have a choice in the matter…”

Circe shakes her head again.

“The Goddess of the Hearth is not wrong, to be clear. You will either die or become a God. There is no other fate for you at this point. But timing… timing is critical, Percy Jackson. The Crooked One stirs, as we both know. And as I told Lady Hestia, I have no desire to see the Titan of Time rise from his prison.”

When Percy stays silent, still not completely convinced, Circe just hums and continues on.

“I’m sure you’re well aware of the oath that the Big Three made decades ago to not father anymore children. An oath that your very existence breaks. A pact that in the end, two of the three could not hold to.”

… Yes. Both Zeus and Poseidon had had children despite the pact. Hades had technically not, because Bianca and Nico had been born before they’d sworn an oath to one another. Hadn’t stopped Zeus from trying to kill them anyways though and succeeding in killing their mother all those years ago. He and Thalia however… they were living proof of the fact that even the greatest among the Olympians could not keep to their word for longer than a few decades.

“But tell me, Percy Jackson… do you know WHY they made that oath?”

He pauses and frowns. Percy had thought he knew, but Circe was making it sound like it went deeper than he could possibly imagine. Still, he hesitantly gives the answer he thinks is correct all the same.

“It was because of World War Two, wasn’t it? Didn’t demigods of all three Gods fight on all sides? The devastation to the world was enough to make them all take a step back… right?”

Circe’s smirk becomes a full blown Cheshire-like grin at that.

“Oh you sweet summer child. So innocent and naïve, even after everything. Do you really think the likes of the Olympians care all that much about the petty squabbles of mortals? Perhaps if the war had somehow reached America they might have felt more of its effects, but by the time World War Two began, Mount Olympus had already been moved to the top of the Empire State Building.”

Circe smirks ruefully.

“And sure, plenty of demigods lost their lives in that quaint little ‘World War’, but Gods and Goddesses give birth to demigods all the time. Tell me, if you’d had a thousand children in ten thousand years, would you care all that much about the thousandth and one?”

Percy frowns, wanting to argue the point, but Circe just laughs.

“There is a prophecy, Percy Jackson. Some call it the Great Prophecy, even.”

Oh no. Another prophecy? Percy feels a shiver go down his spine, even as Circe leans forward while grinning wickedly.

“To be fair, calling it the Great Prophecy is rather fitting in a lot of ways. After all, it’s the only prophecy to ever manage to get THOSE three to keep their dicks in their pants… for a few decades anyways. The three of them all swore oaths to not father any more children because of the nature of that prophecy, not because of World War Two.”

God… Percy hated this, but she’d hooked him and was successfully reeling him in. Even knowing it was manipulation, bait, whatever you wanted to call it… Percy can’t help himself. The problem is, he doesn’t think Circe is lying. And as he knows, sometimes the truth is far more terrible a weapon than a lie.

“… What does the prophecy say, exactly?”

Circe’s eyes glitter as she pulls back all of the sudden, becoming markedly more subdued.

“Ah… I shouldn’t tell you. I might get in trouble. The Goddess of the Hearth might get quite cross with me.”

What? Percy frowns and waits for Hestia to intercede at that, half-expecting her to show up and say something either to contradict Circe’s words… or worse, confirm them. But nothing happens. They’re in the middle of Hestia’s domain. There’s not a doubt in Percy’s mind she’s watching this conversation. But… all they get is silence.

Circe looks around for a moment and though she hides it almost perfectly, Percy thinks she’s a little surprised by that as well. Finally, turning back to him, the beautiful Goddess of Magic shrugs.

“Well… perhaps just the part that you’ll care about, hm? The part that makes it… well, rather bad if you continue down your current path without trying to resist what’s happening to you. The first two lines of the Great Prophecy.”

Percy’s breath hitches as Circe suddenly changes. For a brief moment, her eyes roll back in her head and she intones the words as though she was the Oracle Herself. Or maybe just channeling a fraction of that power. Either way, it gives her following words far more metaphysical WEIGHT. So much that Percy can feel them pressing down on him.

“A half-blood of the eldest gods… shall reach godhood against all odds.”

Percy swallows thickly, even as Circe comes out of the little display she was putting on a moment later. Her eyes roll forward, her voice returns to normal, and she smiles guilelessly at him even as her eyes glitter with amusement.

“I should hope the fact that the Big Three swore their oath in the first place will make it clear that the rest of the Great Prophecy is not exactly sunshine and roses. But alas, I cannot tell you more~”

She says that last bit in a teasing tone that makes Percy wonder if she’s really telling the truth or not. Oh, he believes her about the prophecy… but Hestia STILL hasn’t stepped in even now. Which meant that she was okay with him knowing about this right? Except… she would have told him herself already if she was okay with it.

And that left only one other reason behind Hestia’s current inaction and silence. She was ashamed. Ashamed of keeping secrets from him. Ashamed of holding this back from him for so long.

Percy’s jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists at his side. Circe hums in amusement, even as she shakes off the last effects of her little stint as a fortune teller.

“I see you begin to realize the gravity of your situation, boy. Ascending to godhood before the Crooked One is dealt with risks triggering the other parts of the Great Prophecy. And we definitely don’t want that.”

Percy opens his mouth to respond but doesn’t quite know what to say. In the end, the choice is taken away from him as Circe lifts a hand.

“I’ve taken enough of your time though at this point. Enjoy your dinner, Percy Jackson.”

With a snap of her fingers, he blinks and finds himself walking into the dinner pavilion right behind Annabeth and Thalia, like the conversation never happened. It did though. It very much happened. And Percy didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

[X] Find a moment alone to talk things over with Annabeth first - 81%

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