Percy Jackson, The Missing Hero.

Epilogue.

Nathan was well aware of the fact that he had flouted their rules and wrecked their plans by resurrecting Octavian from the grave, making those who would govern his life and death an unwise enemy. He was also well aware of the fact that he would be incapable of looking them in the eye and admitting regret. He regretted how he orchestrated his boyfriend's resurrection, yes, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the time that they had spent together.

"Do you know why we are here, Nathaniel?" The one seated between her sisters, the one who would wield the scissors resting in her lap, ignored his outburst and regarded him with a cold stare.

Atropos, The Fate of Death.

There was only one reason Nathan could think of and he bowed his head for a moment before looking up at them with wide eyes. "Did he suffer?"

"Are you inquiring about your father or your lover?" Clotho, the one who spun the thread, asked him with a raise of her brow.

His heart was no longer in his shoes. It had fallen straight into the depths of the Underworld.

"My dad?" Nathan asked weakly. He felt like he was going to fall to the floor, like his legs were about to give out beneath him. "What do you mean my dad?"

"We can only give you answers about one, Nathaniel," Lachesis informed him as she measured the sea-green yarn that they had been spinning into a sweater. "So which one is it to be?"

Nathan stared at them, dumbfounded. He didn't want to make such an abhorrent choice but he knew that he had to. He couldn't just refuse to choose because they'd either choose for him or walk away without giving him information on either party. Obviously he had questions about Octavian, but he'd been searching for information about his dad ever since Gaia had come into their lives to no avail. On one hand, he was desperate to get those answers, but he knew he'd never be able to unhear their information if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

With Octavian, he knew it would be simple. He knew that they'd just tell him what he already knew in his heart of hearts; that Octavian had died, and he had died at their hand. If he didn't ask about his dad, he could still pretend that there was a chance he was alive and well.

"Octavian," he managed to force out, making an executive decision. "Please can you tell me about Octavian?"

"Well," Atropos gave him a wicked smile as she leant forward, shears in hand. She snipped the yarn that Lachesis was holding steady and Nathan flinched, wondering who's string of fate they had just severed. "He's not dead."

Prior to the Olympian Assembly stumbling through Hestia's Hearth to find a sight that Poseidon wanted to burn from his memory, their meeting had been in a state of complete chaos.

"-an't believe that you're refusing to let us go and help," Hermes yelled at Hera, glaring at Olympus' Queen with fury in his eyes. "My son could be fighting for his life right now and all you care about is whether or not you'll have to give your crown to Amphitrite for the foreseeable future."

"I say we should ask Apollo what the future holds- Oh wait, we can't," Hades' tone was drier than the Sahara. "Because he's at Camp Half-Blood with our children, just like we should be."

"We're staying here and that's that!" Hera shot back sharply.

Poseidon groaned, reluctantly lifting his head up to look at the room properly, instead of half hiding his gaze with the hand he was leaning on. He wanted nothing more than to tell Hera to 'shut up' at that moment, but he was well aware that the way he said it would not be diplomatic in the slightest.