✔ | [1] 𝒞𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸 | ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ

𝓁𝓍𝒾𝓋. The aftermath

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

If there was ever a doubt

My love leans into me

This most assuredly counts

She says most assuredly

Be my baby

I'll look after you

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

⚔ Percy spotted Hermes in a side courtyard of the palace.

He was staring at an Iris message in the mist of a fountain.

Percy glanced at Annabeth. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

"You sure?" Then she studied his face. "Yeah, you're sure."

Hermes didn't seem to notice his approach. The Iris-message images were going so fast Percy could hardly understand them. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by—scenes of Typhon's destruction, the wreckage their battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.

"Amazing," Hermes murmured. He turned towards Percy. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist...and mortal ignorance."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Oh, not you. Although I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."

"It was the right choice."

Hermes looked at Percy curiously, then returned his attention to the Iris message.

"Look at them. They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."

"How bad is the city?"

Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks, and, of course, I'll be helping."

"You?"

"I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying and, if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."

He sounded bitter. George and Martha curled around his caduceus, but they were silent, which made him think that Hermes was really, really angry.

He probably should've kept quiet, but he said, "I owe you an apology."

Hermes gave him a cautious look. "And why is that?"

"I thought you were a bad father," Percy admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

"I did know his future," Hermes said miserably.

"But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him, could you?"