Home Is Where The Heart(h) Is

Chapter 1: The Thrones Of Dark And Fire

The twelve Olympian Gods sat on their desecrated thrones, staring at the demigod blankly, as though the response he had given simply did not compute. How could it? Who could refuse the ultimate offer?

The war had just ended. The gods were still in full battle regalia, power radiating in the throne room. Before them stood the small army of demigods of Camp Half-blood. One of them was singled out, the crowd ebbing away from him like the tide before a tsunami.

Perseus Jackson. The gods had given him a choice to become a god, serving under his father. The last time they had done this was for Heracles, one of the greatest heroes to ever live, yet Perseus' reply was one that they had never heard from any hero in their immortal lives.

"No?" Zeus growled. "You would decline our generous offer?"

"Lord Zeus, I mean no disrespect, but I have other requests I would like to put forth. Although, I need the Council to swear on the River Styx."

"What? You don't trust us?" Ares demanded.

"Someone once told me," Percy said, looking meaningfully at Hades, who stood in the shadows of the pillars, away from the  brazier that blazed brightly in the centre of the throne room, "You should always get a binding oath."

The Lord of the dead grinned. "Guilty as charged."

"Very well," Zeus muttered, "In the name of the Olympian Council, we swear on the River Styx to grant your reasonable request, as long as it is within our power."

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The oath was made.

"First, I want the gods to claim their children as soon as they become of age."

The gods shifted uncomfortably. Percy filled the void of silence his first request had created. "Kronos would not have rose to power if not for the undetermined demigods. They felt unloved and abandoned. That was why they joined the wrong sides. They had a good reason, though."

Zeus glared at Percy. "You dare—"

"No more demigods dying before they reach camp." He cut in quickly. "Second, the minor gods should be given a cabin at camp, along with Hades."

"You call me a minor god?" Hades raised an eyebrow.

"No, my Lord, but your children should also be given a place at camp and the minor gods should be recognised. Speaking of which, the minor gods who supported the Titans should be pardoned."

An uproar met those words. "That is not your decision to make!" Zeus bellowed, hands gripping his armrest till they shook.

"You're only making the lives of their children miserable if you punish their godly parents," Percy countered. "And making them hate you guys even more than they do now."

That struck a nerve. Zeus leaned back on his throne and grumbled, "Continue."

"Thirdly, no more oath of the Big Three. That didn't work out in the first place."

He took a deep breath. "Lastly, I want Lord Hades and Lady Hestia to have thrones on Olympus. It's only right. After all, they were the oldest brother and sister of the children of Kronos."

At this, Hades' anger dissipated, replaced with surprise. Hestia, watching the scene unfold from the hearth, shifted her focus to the demigod with piqued curiosity. Percy caught the glances thrown his way from the Olympians. Whispering broke out behind him.

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

"Percy, you ask much. You presume much." Poseidon said.

"That is my request." Percy knelt at the foot of Zeus' throne.

After a moment of silent telepathy among the immortals, Zeus said, "Very well, Percy Jackson. Your request has been accepted. Rise, demigod."

Percy did. Zeus waved his hand and two new thrones appeared at the end of the U. One was decorated with skulls and black fire. It was made from obsidian, with gems of a myriad of brilliant hues embedded into it. However, it was not uncomfortable, thanks to the black leather which lined the exterior where Hades sat.

Hestia's throne was simple, not at all flashy, much like her personality. It was made out of gold which was enchanted to not give off any sparkle. Tongues of fire licked the armrests, but it didn't seem to bother Hestia as she laid her arms on there. As as did so, her appearance changed, now wearing a brown cloak much like her last one, yet this was now outlined with gold. A diadem rested upon her forehead with only a ruby fixated on the tiara.

"Not exactly my style," Hestia murmured, but she looked quite glad.

"Now, let the festivities begin!" Zeus declared.

—

Hestia glided through the dancing couples of mortals and immortals alike, some waltzing to a slow tune while others movements were quick and upbeat – all of this possible with the Nine Muses, allowing each individual to listen to his or her desired songs.

As for Hestia, she had picked some Beethoven, a wonderful son of Athena. She, however, was not dancing, instead searching for one particular demigod.

Finally, she spotted him resting near the balcony. His skin was slick with sweat and his black hair was messy, either from his original hairstyle or by his perspiration. His eyes were closed, taking in the breeze.

"Too much dancing?" Hestia asked Percy Jackson.

The demigod opened his eyes to see the goddess in front of him. He bowed deeply. "Lady Hestia."

Hestia waved her hand in annoyance. "Please, you don't have to call me that, and bowing isn't needed either."

He nodded, although she doubted he would listen. The demigod was one of the most respectful, yet at the same time, disrespectful, demigod she had ever met.

The two gazed at the view of New York from above. She heard the wailing of sirens and wondered what explanation the mortals would come up with following the mass slumber of the mortals in the war.

She couldn't help but grin at that. She always amused herself by looking in the hearth, which allowed her to view events happening around the globe. Which reminded her, she no longer needed to be by the hearth, thanks to the demigod beside her.

"Is there something you want?" Percy asked.

"I would like to thank you, Perseus, for allowing me to have a throne."

He shrugged. "It was only right, seeing as you and Lord Hades were the oldest sister and brother."

"Did you want a throne in the first place?" He asked. "Some myths said you originally had a throne, but you forfeited it in the favour of Dionysus, while others stated you never wanted one."

Hestia smiled. "The latter is true. I never wanted one. Ah, crowds and attention...I don't like them that much."

"Is it because of that satyr, the one that...um..." Percy's voice trailed off, thinking of how to phrase his following words.

She shuddered. "Priapus, yes, he did try to do that." She held her hand up to silence the predicted apology that Percy was about to open his mouth to say. "It's fine, that happened a long time ago, but no, I don't think I was ever one to participate in such revelries anyway."

Percy felt his cheeks burn. Silence swept over the conversation until it was thankfully interrupted by Annabeth who asked Percy to dance. Percy looked at Hestia for permission to leave, to which she nodded. Percy bowed once more and left.

She could tell he was slightly relieved to be away from her due to their conversation. You don't have to feel that way, she wanted to say.

Hestia decided to return to her palace, having enough of the party. Unbeknownst to her, she would not return to Olympus for a very long time.

—

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Rights of Percy Jackson and other relevant characters go to Rick Riordan. I own any other copyright. Please don't copy my plot without asking. Thank you.