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Percy had fought hydras before, but none as large as this. Honestly, he was tired of fighting Echidna's children, still, the Lernaean hydra was a formidable foe. It was a hellish battle before the monster was vanquished.
Unfortunately, so was the son of Poseidon. His only condolence was knowing that the camp would be safe. Percy thought that he would be more afraid of dying, but he only felt acceptance. He knew he awaited Elysium as he died fighting for his loved ones.
The fates, always watching, could only cackle at his hopeful wishes. Atropos whispered, “Foolish boy, to think we would ever be done with you.”
Clotho smirked in response, “He forgets himself, dear sister.”
Lachesis tugged at his life string, peering at the strand of red tied between another of bright gold. “His soulmate is waiting for him in the loom of Fate.” With that, they vanished in a flash, taking the hero’s soul to the river Lethe.
Percy Jackson was twenty when he died.
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Salacia knew that bedding a god was dangerous, but she loved her son, Perseus, dearly. She knew that keeping him safe would be a challenge.
Her heart grew heavy as she studied his soul marking. The golden sun covering his heart twinkled in the sunlight. She moved her child away from the window as she thought. A mark like this was a rarity she had only seen once before; the people of her village called it a blessing from the gods. The thought scared her more than she could ever admit.
Salacia knew she would do anything to protect her son, even from the gods. Especially this one. The bright one was known across all of Greece for his cruelty and tragic love affairs. She refused to let the same fate befall her son, so she began to plan. Her first step was to travel to Naxos, the home of Dionysus. It took her a month to procure the funds to travel, and many months more to arrive.
It was hard work becoming a follower of Dionysus while taking care of an infant, but Salacia slowly worked her way up the ranks. Her plan was risky, as Dionysus held no love for any children of Poseidon, but his wife was kind in a way that made Salacia hopeful.
Perseus was one when Salacia offered him to Ariadne.
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Perseus was young, so he had fewer duties at the temple compared to other devotees. He loved dancing with the satyrs, especially with his best friend Giles. The two often found themselves in trouble with the Maenads.
His mother was often disappointed, but the wild called to him the same way the sea did. Salacia understood this and only had two rules for her son: never go near the ocean and never let anyone see his heart. Perseus could not always make his mother proud, but he swore he would listen to this above all else.
Today was special. Instead of prancing around the vineyard, Ariadne was visiting the temple. Her visits were the highlights of Perseus’ year. He always learned much about her lord’s domains. The last time they studied plays in an amphitheater and the time before that Perseus was allowed to squash grapes under his feet.
This year, it was dramatic poetry. Out of all his schooling, this felt the most special. He found such beauty in the rhythm and rhyme of the words. Something about this art form called to him, even more than the sea.
Perseus was eight when he discovered poetry.
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Gabriel, the head priest, was a vile man. Perseus hated that he served under him directly. He embodied the very worst of Dionysus’s domains. When he wasn’t working Perseus to the bone at the temple, he was out in the taverns trying to bed young girls who had yet to reach marrying age.
On the night of the full moon, Perseus usually worked until Apollo landed his chariot in the west. Tonight, however, he finished his labor early, retiring to the temple.
Once he had arrived, he encountered something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Standing over his mother was Gabriel, clearly drunk. Salacia appeared unharmed, but her dress was torn. Rage like nothing he had ever known filled him as he rushed to aid his mother.
He tackled Gabriel from behind, and the two clashed on the floor. Limbs flung out and punches were thrown before there was a sickening crack. Blood painted the floor of Dionysus's temple.
Salacia pulled him from Gabriel's dead body, crying out, “Go Perseus, run! Your patron will not be forgiving of this crime. You’ve defiled his temple. You must leave!”
Perseus was twelve the first time he killed a man.
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He ran blindly for months, jumping from ship to ship, trying to get as far from Naxos as possible. He only stopped for more than a day once to pray for forgiveness. He begged Dionysus and Ariadne to spare his mother.
A full year had passed when he wound up in Corinth. Perseus found himself drawn to the temple of Aphrodite. It felt like the sea; it felt like home. He was greeted by a blonde courtesan named Anastasia. She helped bathe and dress him in new clothing so he would be fit to pray.
“Aphrodite, protector of soulmates, please help me!” Perseus pleaded in her temple.
For three years, Perseus gave his assistance in Aphrodite’s temple. He helped when there was labor to be done and fought for anyone who almost befell the same fate as his mother. It was after one such night, that Aphrodite graced him with her presence.
“I was unsure of your intentions, boy, after seeing what you have done in Dionysus’ temple, but I must thank you for protecting my courtesans. I wish to honor you for your dedication.”
Perseus was sixteen when he met his soulmate.
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Perseus had felt awkward and out of place for much of his life. This changed when he met Apollo. Moving in with the literal embodiment of the sun felt right, and that terrified him.
He had never shown anyone his heart and he had never gone to the sea, and now Apollo was asking him to do both. His mother did everything she could to prevent this from happening, and he owed it to her to listen.
“It’s just a little water, love. I won’t let you drown.”
“I won’t do it. I only agreed to ride with you, I did not agree to go skinny dipping.”
Apollo chuckled. “I certainly won’t be swimming in my chiton, thank you very much.”
“You’re not welcome.”
Sensing the seriousness in Perseus's tone, Apollo sat down facing the sea. “Do you at least like the view?”
Perseus did his best to imitate a noble and replied, “You’re not as impressive as you think you are.”
With genuine mirth, Apollo replied, “I meant the sunset.”
“Oh!” Perseus was ashamed to admit he had yet to take in his surroundings. Something about Apollo felt magnetic, and Perseus found himself staring more often than he was willing to admit.
The sunset was magnificent. The way the sun dipped into the sea, swirling from gold to pink then blue, was breathtaking. “It is actually.”
“I did it for you.” This answer shocked Perseus out of his daydreaming, reminding him of his companion’s timeless divinity.
Perseus was seventeen when he refused to let himself be wooed by Apollo.
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Once more, Perseus decided to pick a fight with Apollo. “I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”
Apollo seemed as if he couldn’t help himself from sighing. “Beloved, please allow me the honor of teaching you archery. Every man should know how to defend themselves.”
“I can defend myself just fine, my lord,” Perseus retorted, trying to create distance between them.
“Perseus please.” He was forced to fold, the same result as the rest of their arguments. It was not often, maybe never, that a mortal had witnessed a god beg.
“I’ll accept, on one condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d like to send a letter to my mother.” Apollo’s eyes glistened with approval.
An hour later Perseus found himself in an archery range stocked with a bow and quiver. After Apollo went over basic instructions, Perseus attempted to notch his arrow and shoot.
“What do you think you are doing?” Apollo asked.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “What you told me to do.”
“Looking like that?” Now, Perseus was offended, but before he could retort Apollo pressed himself along his back. The god kicked his feet farther apart, widening his stance. A hand snuck his way to his hip, tilting him forward slightly so that he was no longer leaning backward. Perseus felt his breath catch.
“Take aim” Apollo voiced next to the shell of his ear. He couldn’t help but shudder at the intimacy, cursing himself internally as pictured a pose even more intimate. Warmth seeped from Apollo’s chest, filling him with longing. Perseus dropped his bow and fled. He hated the guilt he felt as Apollo’s eyes seared into his back.
Perseus was eighteen the last time he ran from Apollo.
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Delos, as usual, was perfection. The picnic Perseus and Apollo had earlier was filled with the freshest fruits and the finest aged cheese. He was uncomfortable with this level of extravagance. Perseus grew up serving others, so it was difficult for him to accept such finery. Apollo always insisted that he deserved nothing but the best, and it was hard to argue when the god looked so sincere.
While he was finally in regular correspondence with his mother, perfection grew boring as the years passed. Apollo had many domains, maybe even the most of any god Perseus knew of, so he was often busy. In search of entertainment, he had taken up swimming in secret.
Meeting Apollo felt like coming home, but so did the sea. Every day he found new flora and fauna to admire. After having a lovely conversation with the local mackerel, Perseus returned to the beach.
Before he reached the shore, he found himself frozen in fear. Standing right in front of him was Apollo staring at his bare chest.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Perseus said, scrambling toward his chiton.
“Oh really? Then what exactly is happening right now? First, I was upset you finally decided to go skinny dipping without me, but this...” Apollo trailed off, looking heartbroken.
“I never meant to go to the ocean. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Perseus,” his name dripped from Apollo’s lips in a way he wished it never would again, “stop playing the fool, it doesn’t suit you in the slightest.”
“Please, Apollo. Don’t tell my mother. I’ll stay away.”
“How can you possibly stay away from me when you live on my sacred island?”
“I... I don’t think we are having the same conversation right now.”
“Then let me enlighten you, you are my soulmate.”
“Yes,” Perseus responded because it was true.
“Then why did you never tell me?” Apollo asked, sounding hurt.
Perseus felt the world turn on a new axis. “You didn’t know? But I thought... the flirting and the skinny dipping! What?”
Apollo's entire demeanor shifted in realization. He approached Perseus cautiously. Once he realized Percy wasn’t going to bolt, he picked him up and spun him around. “I never understood why Aphrodite decided to gift you to me when I promised to look after you. I never once let myself hope this could happen. I love you, Perseus.”
“You love me? But you didn’t even know I was your soulmate.”
“How could I not fall for you? You are the most breathtaking being I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are never afraid to argue with me. I love that you treat me as an equal instead of a god. Your heart sets mine aflame.”
Perseus was twenty years old when he fell in love with his soulmate.