Chapter 67: Sweet Dreams?

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Heh.

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“Perseus…”

He’s sleeping. Dreaming, specifically. As the breathless feminine voice whispers in his ear, Percy struggles with what feels like a metaphysical weighted blanket over his thoughts. Was this Aphrodite? The light touch of feminine fingers trails over his body in familiar patterns, moving across his arms as he shudders.

“You know the truth now. About everything.”

… He did. The Great Prophecy… Hestia had laid it out in full. She’d given him everything except for complete understanding, but to be fair, she couldn’t give him what she didn’t know, now could she?

“You know how they lied to you. How they kept things from you. How they sought to restrain you.”

That… Percy frowns a bit at that. He couldn’t deny the accusations. He knows without needing further clarification who ‘they’ is meant to imply. The Gods. The Goddesses. All of them had lied to him. Even Hestia had kept the truth from him. Fuck, even after proclaiming that he’d conquered her, Athena hadn’t bothered to tell him. Hell, what about Aphrodite? She claimed to love him, but why hadn’t she given him a heads up? Why was she-

“They feared you. They fear your power. They fear… retribution.”

… Retribution? Percy doesn’t fully understand.

“Their crimes are numerous, Perseus Jackson. For eons, they have sat upon their thrones of lies, lording over those beneath them. They have done terrible things, to mortals, to demigods, to their own kin… even to each other. Deep down, they know their must be a reckoning. Deep down, they know they must all be punished.”

Again, Percy can’t exactly argue the point. The Gods and Goddesses up on Mount Olympus… Zeus might have been the worst of them. Then again, he might not have. Was his removal really enough to make up for everything that had happened in the history of their ‘rule’? Percy’s mind goes to Medusa and how she suffered because of both Poseidon and Athena’s actions. Hers was an excellent example of the excesses of gods hurting those around them, but never themselves, wasn’t it?

“Now here you stand, on the precipice of ascension. You just need the proper push forward, Perseus. You just need the right hand to help pull you up. They all seek to keep you down. They all aim to hold you back. Even the ones you think you can trust, you can’t. They will stop at nothing to make sure you stay weak, pliant, and easily manipulated.”

That…

“Even the Goddess of the Hearth cannot be trusted.”

Hestia? No, she…

“She promises to protect you, but in truth, she seeks to coddle you. If you had gone on that Quest, how much closer would you be to Ascension now? She holds you back, Perseus. She said it herself… she fears what you will become.”

That wasn’t… that was twisting her words and motivations. Taking them out of context.

“You cannot trust her. You cannot trust any of them. You must break free of the web of lies they’ve weaved. You must see them for the monsters they truly are. Afraid and clinging to their power, they will stop at nothing to maintain the status quo.”

Slowly, Percy finds himself pushing through the dream haze coating his mind. But he tries not to be too obvious about it. Something is wrong here though. Something is so very, very wrong. Finally… Percy breaks his silent.

“What… what would you have me do?”

The feminine hands gently gliding across his arms move to his naked chest at that, sliding over his pectorals and down along his abs in a way that almost has Percy yanking himself free right then and there. But the hands stop before going too far and so he holds himself in place, hoping to gain more information about what’s going on.

“You must fight back, Perseus. But they are strong and you are weak. If you let them know you’ve pierced the veil they’ve put over your eyes, they will band together and kill you.”

Percy’s lips purse into a thin line.

“… Then what can I even do against such a thing?”

When the voice returns, it sounds eager… excited, even.

“You must choose your allies carefully. Your fellow demigods… their loyalty to you is clear, but how strong are they really? Take them, make them truly beholden to you… and then seek greater power still. You must ascend. You must reach out and claim godhood with both hands, no matter what sacrifices it might take.”

Percy shudders, but this time it’s not from the touch. He’s almost fully lucid by this point. And with lucidity comes more. He starts making… connections.

“So I start with… my friends. But what then? Where would I even find greater power?”

The voice becomes even more eager than before. Sensing the finish line within its grasp, it oversteps and reveals its hand.

“The power you seek is already right in front of you, Perseus. I can help you in laying claim to it. The Goddess of Wisdom calls you Master… but you could have her domains with a simple ritual. The Goddess of Love proclaims you her lover, but you could make everything she is yours with ease. The Goddess of the Hearth watches over you… but if you took her power and made it your own, you would no longer need a protector. All you need to do is listen to me, allow me to guide you, and it can all be yours!”

With that, Percy has finally heard enough. Yanking himself out of that soft, feminine grasp (those hands were starting to trail too low anyways) he whips around with a scowl on his face.

“And all I have to do to conquer everyone else is submit to you, is that it? But then that begs the question… who even are you?”

Now that he’s finally turned around, Percy regards the owner of the voice that’s been whispering in his ear… in this Dream-like, quasi-reality space, the distinctly feminine shape is merely that… a shape. No actual discernable features to be had, just a sense of ‘womanly form’ and ‘feminine beauty’. Those senses rapidly disappear now that Percy has stopped pretending that he’s falling for the trick, however.

The feminine shape morphs and changes into something more masculine… and far darker in nature.

“I think you know who I am, Perseus Jackson. Just as you know the offer I’ve given you is very real.”

Percy swallows thickly as he speaks a single name in a quiet tone.

“Kronos.”

As if summoned by recognition itself, features appear in the dark, masculine shape. Burning eyes. A mouth that morphs upwards into a grin. The Titan of Time ‘stands’ before Percy in this dream space and Percy tries not to feel small, but it’s difficult all things considered.

“That’s right, Perseus. Apologies if you feel deceived but based on everything I know about you, you seem to respond to a woman’s touch better than a man’s. I see I should have just been completely upfront with you from the beginning however… after all, we both want the same things.”

Percy’s jaw clenches. Now that he’s completely come to his senses and isn’t under the haze of the dream anymore, he finds himself playing back the conversation they’d just had from beginning to end. Kronos has played out quite a few cards by coming here and confronting Percy like this. He’s also basically let Percy know his plans for him as well.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence in turn by pretending to hear you out any further. We definitely don’t want the same things, O’ Crooked One.”

Kronos’ lips curl back into an even wider grin than before.

“Oh… but we do, Perseus. You want freedom. I want freedom. You want control. I want control. You want your life back… the one you lost when the Olympians drew you into their pathetic little games, stealing your mother away from you and forcing you to dance to their tune on pain of death. Funnily enough… so do I.”

The shadow of the Crooked One spreads his arms wide, his fingers becoming more defined as he splays them.

“Have I told a single lie, Perseus Jackson? Do the Gods and Goddesses not deserve to be punished for their crimes? Do they truly deserve the thrones they cling to even now?”

Percy doesn’t answer that, his jaw clenching. Kronos seems to take that as a good sign, because the Titan of Time chuckles and shakes his head ruefully.

“They would have you believe that my return would cause the end of everything, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. What do I care for the mortals you and those like you have spawned from? I have no desire to wipe away everything that has been built in my absence… only what has been built by THEM. My vengeance will be swift and without mercy, I make no secret of that fact. But the only ones who will be punished are those who deserve it. You and yours do not reside among their number.”

Kronos talks a big game. He says a lot of nice-sounding things. But how much of it is true and how much of it is just what he knows Percy wants to hear? Because yeah, Percy’s interactions with Greek Deities so far has been pretty damn mixed.

On the one hand, there’s Goddesses like Hestia and Aphrodite who have been more helpful than hindrances. Well, Hestia more than Aphrodite. Aphrodite had given him information to look out for Hera, but Percy got the impression after everything that had happened that Hera was the tip of a fucking iceberg at best.

On the other hand, there were those like Zeus and Ares, or Hera and Circe. Even deities like Athena and Hades had started out trying to mess with him. And Hades had never stopped, even if his actions weren’t completely malicious. And that was just Percy too. He knew full well from the countless myths that the Gods and Goddesses upon Mount Olympus weren’t the best of people most of the time.

“I would be happy to give you those Goddesses that I mentioned as well. The ritual to strip them of their domains and add them to your own need not be lethal unless you want it to be. You could become more powerful than all of them… make them listen to you. Make them submit and be better.”

It was just… too obvious. The manipulation, that is. Kronos was starting to contradict himself. Not just that, did he really think Percy believed for a single second that the King of the Titans would let Percy get that powerful? No… it was a trick. A trap, certainly. Had to be. Though it had revealed several important pieces of information. First and foremost…

“You really want me to ascend to godhood, don’t you? All because of the last lines of the Great Prophecy. A single choice to decide it all, for Olympus to rise or fall.”

A shudder runs through Kronos’ shadowy body at those words. A shudder… of pleasure, Percy realizes with disgust.

“… I won’t deny it. Seeing Olympus fall would please me greatly. And after everything you’ve seen of their excesses, do you really intend to let them rise, Perseus? Even without my help, are you not already their adversary? Hestia might support you, but the others will not. They won’t let you have power over them, not if they can help it. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, in the end. You need me, Perseus Jackson.”

This had been an illuminating conversation, but it was time to bring it to an end, Percy decided.

“No, I don’t. And the enemy of my enemy is not always my friend. Sometimes… they’re just another enemy. I may not have played that great of a role in deposing Zeus, but I definitely support that decision with my whole heart. Why would I want to help another Tyrant King rise in his place when we just got rid of the first?”

Kronos has fallen silent in the face of Percy’s rejection. So Percy keeps going.

“I refuse your offer, Crooked One. Categorically and with every fiber of my being. No matter what happens next, know that I will not serve you, I will not ally with you, and I will not give you a single inch of ground. I will stop you, Kronos. I swear it on all that I hold dear.”

There’s another long stretch of silence, and then… Kronos chuckles.

“Ah, such defiance. And yet, you’ve already given me everything I need, Perseus Jackson. You’ve given me Time.”

Percy grunts as Kronos suddenly surges forward, hands outstretched as claws. At the same time that this happens, he can feel the disembodied Titan reaching out in other ways as well, trying to seep into the very essence of his being. Was this Kronos’ plan from the beginning? To get Percy to strip three Goddesses of their Domains, become a God himself… and then possess Percy’s body and all the raw power that it would contain?

If it was, then Kronos was either a fool or incredibly misinformed. Percy decides to go with the first, simply because it’s more insulting.

“You’re not very bright, are you? Or did you already forget the Domain I received from Zeus?”

Percy has never done this consciously out in the waking world, but he’s done it subconsciously. And what is the subconscious except another aspect of the unconscious mind? Just because he’s lucid doesn’t mean he’s not still dreaming. He’s more powerful here than anywhere else. He just has to acknowledge that fact… and embrace it.

Kronos never reaches him. Percy’s Domain of Kingship wells up within him and pushes the Crooked One away and then back further still. When Percy speaks, now it’s his turn for his voice to boom and seem modulated in volume.

“What is a King if he cannot even rule over his own Soul. Heed my words Kronos, Titan of Time. I’m coming for you. Ascended or not, divine or not, I’m going to find you and I’m going to stop you, once and for all.”

Snarling, the Crooked One is pushed out of Percy’s mind entirely, forcibly ejected by Percy’s quite literal Divine Right to Rule. After all, it was just as Percy said. If he couldn’t captain his own soul, what hope did he have of ruling over anything else?

Of course, right after successfully expelling Kronos from his dreaming mind, Percy wakes up with a start and finds himself staring at the ceiling of the Poseidon Cabin even as naked, sweaty, feminine bodies press into his sides, their owners mumbling softly in their sleep.

Letting out a sigh, Percy considers everything that just happened. To say that had been a little crazy would be an understatement… but the most disturbing thing he’d learned was how eager Kronos was to get him to godhood.

… What did it say that his sworn enemy wanted him to become a god fastest of all, while his so-called allies either cautioned taking it slow or plotted his outright death? Huffing, Percy tries to go back to sleep… but it eludes him the rest of the night, his mind refusing to calm back down even as the sun slowly rises and peeks through the window to cast its morning rays upon his bed.

Fucking hell…

[ ] Things are quiet for a little while longer - 8%

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