The Fate of Olympus | Reynabeth [✓]

28. ψ Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon

A/N: You know how in the HoO book series, Percy's POV is in the third person? I thought it was weird. So I didn't do that.

Percy is a minor character here. I'll leave any implications of minor character first person narration to the reader.

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3. We want to hold the gods accountable for the promises they have not kept following the Titan War:

Claim all demigods by the time they turn thirteen years of age.

Bring all demigods to a safe location to be trained.

Pardon all peaceful Titans, including Calypso.

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I arrived at Mount Olympus's elevator. I was with one new friend, Lou Ellen, and two old friends, Grover and Anaklusmos. The latter old friend was in my front pocket. I had one goal in mind: I was going to rescue Annabeth, Reyna, and Nico. Life without friends wasn't worth living.

"It's a straightforward mission," I told Grover and Lou Ellen. "It's going to be okay."

Grover put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Over time he'd developed an elf-like glimmer in his eyes, horns long enough to fight a mountain goat, and a strong but nimble physique.

The new elevator took five minutes, half a second per floor, which according to my calculations was too long. I stared at the floor as my nerves twisted my gut. Annabeth had told me that the elevator was relatively slow (compared to other forms of magic) for safety reasons. She said it was improper for heroes to save the world only to die in an elevator mishap.

The three of us were too nervous to speak. After two hundred seconds of dead silence, the elevator started to loop "It's Raining Men" for the rest of the ride, so I guess the elevator tunes hadn't improved since Annabeth had designed Mount Olympus. I think I've made that joke before but I have brain damage because of Juno.

When we stepped out at the six hundredth floor, three old hags appeared in front of us. Their aura of power was overwhelming. I averted my gaze.

"Dread it, run from it, Fate arrives all the same," said the least wrinkly hag.

The lady on the right said, "Clotho, quit quoting Thanos. It's such a meme and it isn't dramatic anymore. All you do is watch Infinity War over and over. Don't you have threads to weave?"

Clotho turned to the middle hag. "Lachesis, help me out. This went much better with his girlfriend."
"I'm not the one stuck in a fish hook. Don't look at me."
Fish hook? I thought. Then I saw it. The oldest one had her sock caught in a giant, novelty size fish hook.

I'd never heard them speak before, but they seemed so nonchalant, which surprised me. I'd expected them to be all mysterious and stuff.

"That's right, Perseus Jackson," said Clotho. "Like the other gods, we've adopted the customs of our host country, thus removing all dramatic tension from our appearances. This is America. Do you like that song? It's by Childish Gambino. My money's more on 'Black' by Dave."

"Clotho, you're Greek. That's very insensitive."

"Well, I'm giving these wonderful artists a platform! Anyway, this one's mind is chaotic compared to the mind of his girlfriend."

"Which girlfriend?"

"The one with blond hair, you insufferable hag!"

The wrinkliest one ignored the others to address me. "You have been in two book series and you've never really had to face your fatal flaw," said the oldest one.