Percy stood at the entrance to Tartarus, memories of his first encounter with the pit years ago: flying shoes and lightning bolts, drifting into consciousness. He pushed them away immediately. There was no time for reflection and nostalgia, he was going back to Tartarus. He made a promise to himself that all of his energy would be completely focused on: staying alive and getting back to his Annabeth.

“In you go kid,” Ares chuckled. He was obviously enjoying Percy’s suffering, “if only I could watch you die.”

At one time, the sinister way in which hellfire glinted off the war god’s teeth would have caused him to shiver in fear. At one time, Percy may have tried to convince the Olympian to take him back to the throne room, offered him anything- even servitude, to stay out of Tartarus; but Percy was a different man now. He would not beg anyone so obviously lower, so obviously weaker, than him- Ares may have been stronger than him physically, but no one was more determined than Percy Jackson. Especially when it came to Annabeth. With his newfound strength, Percy looked Ares straight in the eye and smiled predatorily. “You’ll be the first,” he stated calmly, before jumping straight into hell.

---

As soon as Percy was gone, Poseidon marched over to Zeus and wrapped a hand around his neck, lifting him clear off of his throne and tossing him across the room. He stalked over to the useless pile of flesh and bones that comprised the king of gods, and towered over him menacingly. “Listen closely, Brother,” Poseidon growled, “I may have made a promise to my son, but you are far from safe. I will not start a war, however I shall rest not until you have felt my anguish tenfold.” He grabbed Zeus and slammed him against the floor, leaving large cracks in the cloud-like marble, as the earth responded to the Sea God’s rage, “and if my son dies in Hell,” Poseidon hissed, pressing the throngs of his trident harshly into Zeus’ neck, “So. Shall. You.” Poseidon stood slowly, maintaining eye contact as he wiped Zeus’ ichor from his weapon. “I swear it on the Styx,” was simply a whisper on the wind, thunder rumbling long after Poseidon’s swift exit.

Hades simply looked at Zeus in disgust, the room darkening as though a shadow were cast over the sun. “You will reap what you sow,” he stated calmly, before following suit and flashing out of the room.

The twins stood next. Artemis spared her father not one glance before turning on her heel and leaving the throne room. Apollo, however, leveled his father with a seething glare before following his sister.

Hestia said nothing, the hard look of contempt on the face of the warmest Olympian was more than enough to startle the king of gods, before she disappeared in the fireplace.

“What of you, Daughter,” Zeus spat at Athena, enraged at being shown so much blatant disrespect, “you have been abnormally quiet.”

Athena tore her eyes from Annabeth, who stood unresponsive in the middle of the throne room, simply staring at the space Perseus had been in a heartbeat ago. As her eyes met Zeus’, she allowed the full force of her rage to come forth. “What would you have me say, Father?” Athena spat back, “You have made many enemies today. It was not only unjust of you, but unwise, to send Perseus to Tartarus. Along with him, the loyalty of two demigod camps has been cast into Hell as well. If another war were to start, we could not rely on demi-gods to defend Olympus because you have thrown one of their leaders into the Pit of the Damned, and emotionally crippled the others. Look at my daughter, Zeus. Look. At. Her,” she hissed sharply, shocking everyone with the strength of her emotions, “she is semi-catatonic! Look at the others. They have been made immobile in either grief, or the inability to process the heinous actions you have taken. You have upset the most powerful demi-gods in existence and you will regret your decision. When the day comes for you renounce your throne, and quite possibly your life, I will have no objections.” Athena then sat back in her throne and looked sadly upon her daughter, who continued to stare listlessly into space.

---

Unlike his first visit to the Pit, Percy knew what to expect. He had about forty minutes of falling until he made it to Tartarus. He had forty minutes to come up with a plan. He was still mortal, he would have to drink from the Phlegethon. He balked at the memory of liquid fire running down his throat and settling in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

Monsters would be attracted to him because he was alive and because he was a demi-god, but mostly because he was Percy Jackson. He would know a good percentage of the monsters in Tartarus, and they wouldn’t just be monsters. Titans, Giants, and Primordials would be there as well. What was Percy going to do? He reached for Riptide on instinct, seeking some form of comfort. Wait… where was Riptide? Percy patted himself down frantically, tears pooling in his eyes at the thought of losing his only method of protecting himself down there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found it in his left pocket, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. He tried to focus through his rising panic.

How would he break his fall? When he fell into Tartarus the first time, he fell into the Cocytus- the river of wailing. The river caused such hopeless desolation, that anyone who falls in to it simply allows themselves to drown. He couldn’t imagine the river having much of an effect on him this time around, not with the image of Annabeth’s tear streaked face so fresh in his mind. Percy’s soft crying became hysterical. The sobs tore harshly from his throat, as if they had clawed their way out of his soul. He had tried to be strong for her, but now there was no one to be strong for. He couldn’t bear the thought of being so… without her. He had to return. With that thought, he swallowed his tears and cleared his mind of that terrible image. He had about 25 minutes now to devise a plan that would at least keep him alive through the first few hours.

Percy’s head fell into his hands, as realized just how screwed he was. He was going back to Tartarus. He had beaten Gaea, and by association, he had beaten all of her minions as well. They were all in the Pit, all of his beaten foes were waiting for him. His name was very well known, even in Tartarus, and even the primordial god himself had a grudge against Percy. He would defeat them all. He had to. When he lifted his head, he noticed something strange. There was a mark on the inside of his wrist, it was a symbol that seemed to glow a faint orange the longer he looked at it; it was really familiar. He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice his palm was becoming warmer. He could almost remember where he found it when suddenly, his hand burst into flames. All Percy could manage was a quick gasp before plunging straight into the Phlegethon.

---

Annabeth fell to her knees in the middle of the throne room. He was gone. Percy was gone. Hopelessness began to weigh her body down. She could feel eyes on her but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She didn’t even have enough energy to sob anymore. The tears just rolled down her cheeks and fell to the floor. The sound, merging with her involuntary whimpers, was heartbreakingly loud in the strangely still atmosphere.

Her Percy… gone. Her mind wouldn’t dare process it, but if the emptiness in the pit of her stomach and the dull ache in her chest were any indication, the rest of her was very aware of his absence. All she could do was stare at Zeus. He took her Percy from her. Through two wars, through six years, through so many deaths, and injuries, and pain he had remained loyal to Olympus. Percy had spent his entire adolescence fighting for the gods, and this is how they repayed him.

The longer she thought about it, the angrier she got. How dare they do this to him, to her, to them. The outrage energized her. She pushed herself off of the floor, noticing the cracks in the marble for the first time, and stumbled her way to Zeus’ throne. Annabeth’s eyes were gray fire and Zeus nearly winced at the similarities between her and his daughter. Athena was perched on the edge of her throne, prepared to defend her daughter, if need be. Annabeth felt her eyes refill and overflow once again, this time with rage.

“You are worthless,” she croaked, “today you have proven once and for all that you are worth less than nothing. He was a hero. Is. Percy is a hero. You took him from me. You took the life that we were going to build and you just… you just took him from me like it was nothing, like he was worth nothing. You are worth nothing.” Annabeth’s words ran together, she took a breath to steady herself, “You took him and threw him in that terrible place full of titans and giants and primordials for gods’ sake, all to protect your stupid, fucking crown because you know he deserves it. But unlike you, Percy didn’t want a crown, he didn’t want glory, he didn’t even want immortality! If he could have been born mortal, he would have been. All he wanted was a simple life. He just wanted to live free of monsters and gods. He wanted to be surrounded by his mom, and his dad, and his friends… and me,” she paused, choking on her tears, “ You stole him from us all. Now he will take your life in vengeance, and consequently your crown. And when he does, I’ll be there smiling.” The anger left her body suddenly, leaving her dizzy and swaying on her feet.

Her friends rushed towards her but Athena reached her first. Reaching out she pulled her daughter into her body, steadying her and brushing her hair away from her face lovingly. Annabeth summoned the last of her strength to focus on Zeus, hate burning in her eyes. “Worthless,” she hissed sharply, sounding just like Athena, before falling slack in her arms.

Notes