Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Male Reader Insert)

The Final Showdown Begins

Character Information:
(Y/N): Your Name
(L/N): Last Name
(H/C): Hair Color
(E/C): Eye Color
(H/L): Hair Length
(S/C): Skin Color
(F/C): Favorite Color
(F/F): Favorite Food
(F/D): Favorite Drink

Percy's POV

Annabeth, Grover, and I walked toward the palace. That's where Kronos would head. As soon as he made it up the elevator—and I had no doubt he would, one way or another—he would destroy the throne room, the center of the gods' power.

The bronze doors creaked open. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. The hearth was down to a dull red glow. Hestia, in the form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his sphere of water. He let out a half-hearted moo when he saw me.

In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping straws.

Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase.

"Rachel?" I said. "Um, what are you doing with that?"

She focused on me as if she were coming out of a dream. "I found it. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?"

Her eyes were brighter than usual, and I had a bad flashback of moldy sandwiches and burned cookies.

"Please put down the jar," I said.

"I can see Hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. "So fragile."

"Rachel."

My voice seemed to bring her back to reality. She held out the jar, and I took it. The clay felt as cold as ice.

"Grover," Annabeth mumbled. "Let's scout around the palace. Maybe we can find some extra Greek fire or Hephaestus traps."

"But—"

Annabeth elbowed him.

"Right!" he yelped. "I love traps!"

She dragged him out of the throne room.

Over by the fire, Hestia was huddled in her robes, rocking back and forth.

"Come on," I told Rachel. "I want you to meet someone."

We sat next to the goddess.

"Lady Hestia," I said.

"Hello, Percy Jackson," the goddess murmured. "Getting colder. Harder to keep the fire going."

"I know," I said. "The Titans are near."

Hestia focused on Rachel. "Hello, my dear. You've come to our hearth at last."

Rachel blinked. "You've been expecting me?"

Hestia held out her hands, and the coals glowed. I saw images in the fire: My mother, Paul, and I eating Thanksgiving dinner at my kitchen table; my friends and me around the campfire Camp Half-Blood, singing songs and roasting marshmallows; Rachel and me driving along the beach in Paul's Prius; my first night at camp with me lying on my sleeping bag next to (Y/N) in the Hermes cabin.

I didn't know if Rachel saw the same images, but the tension went out of her shoulders. The warmth of the fire seemed to spread across her.

"To claim your place at the hearth," Hestia told her, "you must let go of your distractions. It is the only way you will survive."

Rachel nodded. "I...I understand."

"Wait," I said. "What are you talking about?"

Rachel took a shaky breath. "Percy, when I came here...I thought I was coming for you. But I wasn't. You and me..." She shook her head.