Olympus was silent.
The only sounds that echoed through the throne room were Hermes’ pleas. To whom, Percy wasn’t sure. Every god was in the room, no one else to pray to.
He cradled his son, Luke, in his arms, desperately wiping the blood away from his son’s arm that only came back in fresh bouts.
“Oh my boy,” Hermes murmured in broken sobs. “No no, my sweet, beautiful boy.”
Percy wanted to look away, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. Annabeth was staring in shock, mouth covered with her hand and Grover stood there with tears rolling down his cheeks. Luke was loved by so many despite it all.
“Please wake up,” Hermes sobbed, dropping his forehead to Luke’s. “You have to wake up, Luke! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” The last was a roar that shook the entirety of Olympus, sending further damaged rubble from the war crumbling.
Percy was convinced that with Hermes’ grief alone, he could tear Olympus down all in one breath.
Apollo stood off to the side, fists bunched tight as if he was restraining himself from going over there and hauling Luke’s soul back from the Underworld himself. Percy wondered if he knew Luke before this. Dionysus stared blankly at Luke. His son, Castor, was yet to have his body be brought up to him for his final goodbyes and Percy knew Dionysus had lost two sons today instead of one.
The rest of the gods stood in silence, unsure of how they were going to pry Hermes away from the boy, his hero. The only person who looked annoyed was Zeus.
“Open your eyes, Luke.” Hermes’ voice shook, his hand desperately shaking Luke’s chin. He pushed open his son’s eyelids and only found white. “Come on, Luke. Wake up!” Percy never thought he’d see a god this desperate in his lifetime.
“Ανάθεμα αυτό,” Apollo muttered, damn this, and strode forward. He crouched in front of Hermes and Luke and before Zeus could stop him, he gripped Luke’s head and closed his eyes, muttering a prayer in Ancient Greek.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” Hades practically shrieked, marching over, but Hermes had gotten up to block his path.
“He’s still got a pulse,” Apollo snapped. “He is not yours yet, Hades. He is mine, so I suggest you shut the f*ck up and let me do this.”
“I will not allow this!” Zeus bellowed, striking his master bolt in the air and a crack of lightning erupted, but Apollo didn’t flinch.
“That’s the problem with you, father.” Apollo’s eyes blazed with fury. Long gone was the relaxed teenage body Apollo had shown to Percy and his friends. He was older now, angrier. “You’d sooner let your own children die than show an ounce of care towards them. Hermes is nothing like you. He is better than you and I think we could all take a leaf out of his book. I will heal this child and you will not get in my way. We will be nothing like you.”
“You dare speak to me this way—”
“Enough, father.” Much to Percy’s surprise, Athena stepped in. Now he knew where Annabeth got her death glare from. “Apollo is right. Let him heal the child. He still has a pulse, he ended this before Kronos took victory. He is the hero here today.”
“That child committed treason!” Zeus bellowed. “He stole my bolt, attempted to overthrow us, and you still wish to protect him?!”
“Yes,” a firm voice spoke, revealing Hera of all people — well, gods. “The child is a hero. It was written in the prophecy, was it not?” She raised an eyebrow, daring her husband to challenge her.
“It was,” Percy cursed himself as he interjected in the gods debate, but he was family too and who would he be at a family function if not the one who ran his mouth at the wrong time? “A Half-Blood of the eldest gods, Shall reach sixteen against all odds, And see the world in endless sleep. The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap, A single choice shall end his days, Olympus to preserve or raze. The hero’s soul,”
“Is Luke’s” Poseidon finished for him, choosing his son’s side and Percy felt a swell of love — and relief that Zeus wouldn’t zap him into oblivion with Poseidon protecting him. Again. “And ‘cursed blade shall reap’, meaning the child of Athena’s blade, correct?” Poseidon looked to Annabeth, who’s gaze fell on the bloodied blade on the floor beside Apollo and Luke.
“He’s slipping,” Hades noted. “I can feel his soul. Can we hurry this up please?”
“Yes,” Annabeth answered quickly. “Luke killed Kronos inside of him with the cursed blade. He saved Olympus.”
Zeus was silent.
“f*ck it,” Apollo hissed and resumed his mutterings. Nobody stopped him this time.
“Hurry, Apollo.” Hades hissed, closing his eyes to focus on something and Percy wondered what he was doing to keep Luke out. They all knew Luke would land up in Elysium after trial, but evidently no one was ready to let him go just yet.
Apollo didn’t reply to Hades. He kept mumbling, clutching Luke’s head so hard it shook. A faint golden glow enveloped the pair and Hermes watched on with wide, desperate eyes drenched in tears. His boy. His beautiful boy lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood. Gods, where had all that blood come from?
“That’s all I can do,” Apollo let out a huff, dropping back on his haunches.
“I can’t sense his soul,” Hades muttered, slowly opening his eyes and Hermes dropped to his knees again, grabbing hold of Luke’s hand.
He kissed his son’s knuckles, whispering his own pleas once more. In the painstaking silence and anticipation, the other demigods all held onto each other waiting with bated breath. Percy stole a glance at Annabeth, who had a pained frown on her features. He couldn’t tell if she was hoping Luke would wake up or not.
“Come on, cub.” Dionysus muttered and a few eyes went to him, but he didn’t care. Cub. Percy hadn’t heard that before.
Finally, Luke took a breath and everyone seemed to exhale in unison, even Hera. Olympus really was falling.
Luke whimpered at the movement from his lungs and slowly opened his eyes. “M- Mom?” He whispered in a small, broken voice and Hermes looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Dad… W- Where am I? Kronos he’s-”
“Dead,” Hermes replied, tears dribbling off his chin and onto Luke’s tattered shirt. “You’re safe, son. You’re okay. I’m here.”
“Am I dead too?’ Luke closed his eyes and Apollo placed a hand over Luke’s torn open arm and began muttering again.
“No, son, you’re alive. In Olympus.” Hermes moved some matted hair away from Luke’s face. There was so much blood. “You’re alright, just let Apollo heal you.”
“Apollo?” Luke asked weakly, tilting his head to see the god with his eyes closed. “Why… Why would he help me?”
“You’re our hero, Luke Castellan.” Hera spoke, catching Luke's gaze from where she stood towering over him. “You have been pardoned for your previous actions and the moment you leave Olympus, you may return to Camp Half-Blood where you belong. To train, to serve us like we are serving you now.”
Luke barely blinked now, staring up at the queen of the gods. He didn’t answer, but she gave him a nod, knowing he agreed.
“Don’t focus on that now,” Hermes chided, cupping his son’s face and making him look at him. “I need you to know how sorry I am, Luke.”
“You knew,” Luke whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks and Hermes wiped away each one. “You knew and didn’t help me-”
“I couldn’t,” Hermes sounded desperate all over again. He could live in a world where his son still hated him if it meant he were alive, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to get Luke to understand. “If I had gotten involved, your fate could’ve changed, could’ve been worse than what you got. I wanted nothing more than to help you, son, but I couldn’t. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I’m so sorry this burden fell upon you. You’re just a kid…” Hermes sucked in a shaky breath and Luke closed his eyes tight. His free hand that wasn’t occupied with Apollo’s healing, reached for Hermes’ hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m your kid,” Luke murmured, gradually feeling somewhat less like a corpse as Apollo kept working. Hermes froze at the statement. “I’m your kid and you were doing what you had to. I can’t hate you forever…”
“Gods, Luke–” Hermes couldn’t get the words out before more sobs came, this time from sheer relief. “If I could’ve helped, I would’ve. You know that, don’t you?”
Luke opened his eyes again, a small smile on his lips. “I believe you. I do. I believe you, dad.”
Hermes hauled Luke into a sitting position, making him groan in agony and Apollo curse in annoyance, but he didn’t care. He needed to hug his son.
“I love you, Luke.” Hermes sobbed into his son’s shoulder, combing his fingers through his bloodied, dirtied curls.
Luke wrapped a weak arm around Hermes, clinging to his shirt. He dropped all of his weight onto him and quietly apologized to Apollo for making him endure this. “I love you too. I’ll do right by you this time. By all of you.”
“I won’t abandon you ever again,” Hermes promised.
He’d tear down Olympus himself if it meant having the chance to protect his son.
Gods would fall before Hermes let Luke fall again.
