What if Zeus had more then just Thaila when he broke the oath for the first time?
What if Thaila had a twin that just so happened to be a trap?
(inspiration for this fanfic is TediousBison go give the dude a follow)
The only thing I own is my ocs...
“Though sympathy can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.” —Bram Stoker (not BSD)
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My reaction to the fact were at chapter 80 already
Percy P.o.V
Chiron had insisted we talk about it in the morning, which was kind of like, Hey, your life’s in mortal danger. Sleep tight! It was hard to fall asleep, but when I finally did, I dreamed of a prison.
I saw a goy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they’d been flung in there. Bronze tools spilled out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things I didn’t recognize.
The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face, were scraped up as if he’d been dragged here along with the boxes.
Then the double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armor marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.
“Father!” The boy ran to him. The man’s robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody.
The boy took the old man’s head in his arms. “What did they do to you?” then he yelled at the guards. “I’ll kill you!”
“There will be no killing today,” a voice said.
The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly. “You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my won daughter against me.”
“You did that yourself, Your Majesty,” the old man croaked.
A guard planted a kick in the old man’s ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, “Stop!”
“You love your maze so much,” the king said, “I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You will be mine!”
“I don’t fear you,” the old man groaned.
The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. “But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!”
The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.
“What shall we do?” the boy moaned. “Father, they will kill you!”
The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.
“Take heart, my son.” He gazed up at the stars. “I—I will find a way.”
