Chapter Text
Gaea had won.
That’s all there was that needed to be said.
Percy had had enough. The Gods had waited until the very last moment to extend a helping hand, but even they had fallen, eventually. Later, he learned it was on Zeus’ order that they had waited for so long before intervening. It didn’t really matter though. Nothing did anymore.
Frankly, he didn’t really want to dwell on the whole thing. He didn’t want to dwell on the blood, and the screams, and the bodies, and the bodies, and the bodies. He didn’t want to dwell on the smell, and the dust, and the persistent ache in his hands from holding Riptide too tightly, for too long.
He didn’t want to dwell on the last words his friends had spoken to him before taking their final breaths. He didn’t want to think of those who didn’t even get to have last words. He didn’t want to remember the numbers of the dead. He didn’t want to, but he did.
He didn't want to think about the cries of others, screaming his name, begging him to save them.
They had all believed him to be the child of the prophecy. The one who would save them all. That was why so many had stood in front of attacks meant for him, turning themselves into human shields, just for the hope of the better future he would supposedly bring them. Their leader, their general. He who was supposed to lead them to victory, to keep them safe. They chose him and they trusted him, and he failed each and every last one of them. Greeks and Romans both.
So, no. He didn’t want to dwell on it. He would eventually. But right now? Right now, he just wanted to forget. He was finally, finally dying and it was enough… Until he wasn’t.
But everyone had been so convinced that he was the prophecy child… And now he knew for a fact that it was true. Because there he was, standing in front of the Fates and they were trying to convince him to go back in time and fix this utter mess. He was too dam tired for this bullcrap.
He just wanted to go to Elysium and rest beside his friends. Everything considered though, he might not even end up in Elysium, bearing in mind how badly he had failed everyone. On another hand, Hades was gone alongside the rest of the Gods, so who knew if the Underworld had gained a different ruler, who might have taken a different approach to the whole dying thing.
But alas, there he was - in front of the Fates, and they were about to turn his life up in chaos all over again.
“No.”
The Fates looked at him, incredulity written all over their faces.
“No?” Atropos asked, tone carefully measured, fingers pressing tightly together over the mortal’s thread where she’d been supposed to cut it but hadn’t.
“No.” Percy repeated.
“Whyever not?” Lachesis asked, confused since she had been the one to thread his life thread tightly with so many others. “Wouldn’t you want to save your friends and family? Create that bright future for them?”
Percy shook his head in disagreement. “What use would it be? Their threads have already been cut short. Even if I change the past, they wouldn’t live long enough to appreciate that future.”
Both Lachesis and Atropos seemed surprised the child had figured that much out. Indeed, if they simply untangled the threads of those who had fallen, only the gods’ threads would be able to live past their death days, since their essence was only spread out, and not truly gone. No, the demigods may have passed, but Gaia hadn’t been able to reach the other mortals yet, and there were a few who still kept the Gods alive through pure belief in their existence.
Meanwhile Clotho sat quietly, having known all along this would happen. After all, she had been the one to pick the fibers that would weave Perseus Jackson’s thread. She had had to pick strong, but flexible ones, ones that would create a leader, but with the right amount of empathy to not have it bleed into arrogance. She had known that, if this thread was to defy the Gods, and become long enough to fight in their name multiple times, Perseus would need charisma and the sheer stubbornness to survive it all.
The Moirai had known that, if they wanted their weave to turn into the beautiful creation they were imagining, they needed someone to oppose their first attempts at weaving. No immortal thread was as perfect as their subjects would have liked to believe. Even the Moirai themselves had needed some practice to accomplish better results. Luckily, more material could be added to the life lines of the Gods and Titans, and all the rest with such never ending threads, so, eventually, even the Moirai’s first creations became more complex.
That is all to say, Clotho had been completely unsurprised at Perseus Jackson’s response.
“We are not coming back with you, and this weave isn’t either.” She explained. “We have no threads of our own to weave back into place. You would be able to prevent your friends’ from being cut so short, if you go back.”
The mortal’s intake of breath was almost unnoticeable, but to Clotho, it sounded a lot like the beginnings of an old mortal saying.
Hook.
“But Clotho!” Atropos interjected with bafflement and some horror. “That would mean allowing him to change the weave!”
Clotho waved her hand dismissively at her sister, “A few more threads would just make it more colorful. What was it that the mortals said? The more the merrier.”
“But-but that would mean allowing him to weave threads into place!” Lachesis interjected with some horror of her own. Really, those two.
“Not at all.” Clotho disagreed. “I doubt the boy even knows how to weave. That’s a craft left for us, old folk.”
“Clotho.” Atropos finally snapped. “You would give this boy immunity from us?”
“Why would you come to such a conclusion? Having him change a few things here and there could hardly be considered an immunity. Either way, the boy wouldn’t even consider our offer if we don’t allow him at least this much.” And then, a smirk slowly started to creep onto her wizen face. “Besides, we could get our own deal out of this. Lachesis, weren’t you quite disgruntled when he refused immortality?
Lachesis’ eyes gleamed. “Oh, yes! I still am quite upset that your stubborn fibers didn’t wish to bend long enough to give him godhood!”
Line.
“Well, I sincerely doubt that he would refuse it once more, if it was the sole reason, he would be allowed to save all of his dear friends. Isn’t that right, Perseus Jackson?” Clotho asked, having her own reasons to agree with her sister. She had put quite a bit of effort into creating this child’s thread after all.
The boy was silent for a moment, lips pursed, brows furrowed. “Is this the deal you’re offering me? Fix,” he gestured towards the tangled and cut threads at the end of their weave, “this, and accept immortality, and you would allow me to circumvent my loved ones’ deaths? Even if it means going against prophecies foretelling of their doom?”
“Yes.” Clotho confirmed, there was no hesitation in her voice.
“Clotho!” Atropos exclaimed, incensed. “I never agreed to this!”
Clotho had expected this as well. “Dear sister,” she started, “wouldn’t you agree that continuing the weave as it is, would only cause Gaia to have you cut most of those threads and completely tangle up the rest?”
Atropos scoffed. “Oh, please. The way you wove her fibers, she would start creating new ones in no time.”
Clotho didn’t let her sister’s tone deter her. “Yes, a new type of humans, maybe. And perhaps they would all be groomed to be so loyal to her, she would simply turn them immortal to have as her servants. And then where would you be?” Clotho knew her threads well. She knew this was a possibility, as much as Gaia throwing the idea of creating any humanoid creatures out the metaphorical window. “Cutting the threads of animals, only, that’s where.”
Atropos looked like she wanted to deny it but couldn’t find the argument to counter hers. Something defeated appeared in her eyes. And then, suddenly, it seemed as if fire entered them. “Fine, however,” and here, she crossed her arms. “I will not cut them, only if he is capable of saving them. I will not stop myself from cutting their string if he isn’t there to protect them. That includes the boy too. If he wants to keep his loved ones’ threads long so much, he would have to keep his own safe from my sheers as well. And,” she leveled them all with a severe look, “I will only agree to him changing the prophecies if outside of those, I am free to act as I will.”
“Meaning..?” Perseus questioned.
“Meaning,” Atropos almost seemed to roll her eyes at that. “If your friends are arrogant enough to seek foes beyond their capabilities, or foolish enough to walk into incoming traffic, I will not spare them.”
And sinker.
Perseus seemed to bristle at that. “I will not simply agree to have you keep them safe from prophecies, only for you to end their lives in a series of unfortunate accidents!”
Clotho needed to shut that little idiot up right now. “Hush, child. That is not what she said.” Perseus looked at her, defiant and angry. She really had done a fine job on that one. “Your friends and family will be safe as long as they keep themselves safe. Unfortunate accidents weren’t really part of their fates on this weaving anyway. And I am sure, barring any arrogance or sheer stupidity on their parts, Atropos would agree they wouldn’t be a part of the new weave either.”
Atropos huffed but nodded in agreement.
It was settled. Clotho just barely kept herself from grinning from ear to ear. “Anything else you’re confused about, child?”
Perseus seemed to dislike being referred to as a child but swallowed his protests. “How will you ensure you keep your promise, if you can’t go back with me?”
Clotho startled at that. “Child, haven’t you noticed?” Perseus looked confused at her inquiry. Apparently not. “What do you think I’ve been holding this spindle for? This entire conversation has been woven into your thread.” Surprise and astonishment colored the young hero’s face. “When we weave your thread back into your past self’s the other versions of us would immediately know of our deal. They would read the new threads interwoven with your past self’s and know what to do.” She turned to her sisters. “So, are we all agreed?” They both nodded and then the Moirai collectively turned to appraise the hero. After a moment of consideration, he nodded as well.
“Yes. It’s a deal.”
Wonderful.
