His Return

19. Mutual Respect

««•••»»

There he stood, hands placed behind his back and a look on his face that they just couldn't decipher.
His red eyes that were fixed onto the podium were much darker than usual, missing their usual wicked sparkle, and for a moment, he actually looked like a regular man.

He looked at them all, but nothing about his gazes were cruel.

In fact, in some odd way, it was comforting.

As he began to descend down the steps, the demigods that filled the aisle parted, clearing a passage for him in which he would walk through.

He stopped in front of the fires and the beautiful light responded positively in his presence, shining miraculously as if he was its master.

For a while, he stood unmoving, staring earnestly down at the burning shrouds, as he was truly pained to see his valiant troopers be put to rest.

He got onto one knee, and from his ankle, he brought one side of his pants up, revealing a silver dagger that strapped itself against the bare skin of his leg. He grabbed the glistening knife and rose again to his full stature, walking slightly closer to the flames that seemed to call desperately out to him.

Bowing his head, he gently placed the shining blade into the fire, and somehow, the metal melted and burned into the magnificent shades of light.

"Rest with honor, demigods."

Although his voice was hushed, the words still traveled throughout the entirety of the large room, almost shocking the great crowd of demigods behind him. Without another word, he turned around, walking back through the direction he had come, Nyx taking his hand and trailing along beside him.

In that moment, they realized that in more ways than one, they were wrong about him. Reason being, he still showed respect, paying homage to the ones that had fallen under his command, whether he liked them or not.

And that was all it took for them to begin admiring him. Sincerely. Not because of his rank, but because even if it was a small part, he showed himself to be vulnerable to the untimely death of his soldiers. He showed them that underneath that hard, resolute exterior, there was still a man, with real emotions, no matter how brute he appeared or how much he claimed not to care.

He showed them that somewhere deep down, no matter how small, there was still a trace of the real Percy inside him.

And the thought by itself was enough to bring a smile to multiple faces across the room, despite the solid presence of grief and sorrow that filled the atmosphere.

««•••»»

Hours had passed.

The sun began to set in the distance as night quickly fell, the brilliant light glowing against the surface of the camp's beach.

Perseus stood by himself, at the very end of the pier, his vision set onto the murky condition of the once clear body of water. No fish were visible through the greenish-brown liquid, and by the way it looked, he was certain no marine life would want to inhabit these waters.

He wondered why the beach was in such a state of devastation. Had no one gone into the water for all the 7 years he had been jailed? Had no one seen the need to deterge grimy waters? Or had it been that the beach was simply just neglected? As to which reason was correct, he was unsure.

He could only imagine how many naiads and water spirits had been driven out of their homes as the disgusting water reminded him of the East River in Manhattan, combined with the faint scent of the horses' stables from Geryon's Ranch.