A Thousand and One Nights (a Percy Jackson AU)

Just Looking for Work

Dressed in a chiton and veil, Percy felt as ridiculous as Pentheus must have felt when Dionysus urged him to dress up to spy on the Bacchae. Of course, he shouldn't feel so ridiculous. The gods had done crazier things. Zeus had turned himself into a cuckoo to woo Hera. Zeus had turned Io into a cow to prevent Hera from finding out about his infidelity. He had also rashly sworn to Semele on the River Styx to give her anything. Now that Percy was thinking about it, it seemed like Zeus did crazy things more often than the other gods.
   It wasn't like Percy was doing anything too far out. He just didn't know if any male Greek heroes who dressed women. You're not a Greek hero, he told himself, and that's good or you'd probably be in Hades by now. Heroes have insanely short life expectancies.
       Still, he wished he was the mythical Perseus, so he could just pull out Medusa's head and turn Octavian to stone. The way Percy would have to defeat him was more uncertain and would be more messy. Well, here goes the most ridiculous king Ithaca has ever seen, he thought as he looked at the line of supplicants.
Percy was near the end of the line and he was grateful that the chiton covered his muscular legs and broad shoulders. Though his hair has grown out since being exiled, it still was too short to pass as a woman's locks. In fact, he didn't know how his voice would ever pass the test; it was too laced with sarcasm.
Many of the supplicants were young men or older boys. Most of them were visibly injured. Percy counted three busted noses, two bruised lips, and four limps. Some of them were exiles from other lands hoping for amnesty or criminals seeking to avoid penalty from their own country.
Percy watched as Octavian granted asylum to a murderer because he swore his wife had been unfaithful. Percy shuddered. He knew from his own experience greeting supplicants that men in Athens could legally kill the adulterous man, but the wife was usually  publicly shamed. Orcus had killed them both and then lost his trial, prompting him to flee to Ithaca.
When it was finally his turn, Percy managed to grasp Octavian's chin in his right hand and one of his legs with his left hand. As his sea green eyes fixed upon Octavian's pallid face, he felt a tremor run through his spine. His eyes were so noticeable. No one else in the palace had eyes like his own. If Octavian recognized him, he was as doomed as Helios's cattle were were Odysseus's men grew famished.
"I have come requesting a job as a washerwoman or a nurse," Percy said, trying to make his voice sound reedy and lyrical. "I am a widow named Danae. I have no children and no family."
"You will work for food and a bed?" Octavian asked coldly.
"I would bring Cerberus from Hades to to be able to not have to beg for food on the streets," Percy said, looking at Octavian's feet.
"Well, you can work here then," Octavian said. "Ella! Take Danae to the river and get the laundry done. Nancy needs her blue chiton to be clean for tomorrow and my tunics are all soiled."
"May the gods of Olympus bless you," Percy said, the words sounding heavy on his tongue as he followed a lanky redhead out of the room.
"Oh they do," Octavian said, smiling wildly. "They do."