Choosing a Father

  “So then, Jackson, did your master give you something like this?” Clarisse said, staring at him as she lifted both arms, clearly drawing attention to the massive warship behind her and the army of the dead following in its wake. Pride was unmistakable in her voice. “Just like my father gave it to me,” she added for a moment, a faint happiness flashing in her eyes before it was once again buried under arrogance.

  Percy looked at Clarisse, then at the ship, which was loaded with enough artillery to easily lay siege to a city, and replied,

  “Well, yeah… I mean, no. He did not give me a warship exactly. But he basically turned me into the warship.” He paused for a second, realizing he had phrased that terribly. “I mean, not a ship exactly. More like the war part. You know… it makes sense.”

  Annabeth looked at him while shaking her head, and Clarisse raised an eyebrow.

  “No. It really does not,” she said.

  “He means the thu’um. The master turned him into…”

  “Ahem,” Percy cut Tyson off, giving him a very clear look to stay quiet.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry. Secret,” Tyson said quickly, making a gesture as if zipping his mouth shut. He moved back behind Annabeth again, glancing at the walking corpses behind Clarisse with slight unease.

  “Well, it was fun running into someone familiar along the way, but we still have that whole finding Grover thing to deal with,” Percy said casually as he turned around.

  The zombies reacted immediately.

  They moved fast, surrounding the three of them as weapons were raised and pointed their way, forcing Percy to stop. His expression hardened for a brief moment, before settling back into his calm smile.

  “Hey, is this really necessary? You are looking for the Fleece and we are looking for Grover. Maybe we can team up, since we are heading to the same place anyway,” he said evenly.

  Clarisse stared at him, as if weighing something.

  “No. My mission is not the Fleece,” she said, her face serious.

  Annabeth frowned.

  “What do you mean it is not? Did the quest change?” she asked.

  Clarisse looked at Annabeth for a moment, then fixed her gaze back on Percy as she readied her spear and pointed it directly at him.

  “Jackson, as an enemy of Olympus, I have been given the mission to eliminate you. The champion of the opposing side. The gods themselves gave me this task, so that you do not reach the competition that is approaching,” Clarisse said.

  At those words, Percy’s calm smile shattered, replaced by a cold stare and a completely serious expression.

  “Competition? What competition?” Annabeth asked. She still did not understand what Clarisse was talking about. At camp, Percy was always treated as an enemy, and it was said that one day he would fight against them, but the details were never explained. The specific competition was known only to the gods and the champions involved.

  Clarisse glanced at Annabeth before answering.

  “The competition between the gods is not something as simple as a race or a few exchanged blows,” she said without lowering her spear.

  “It is a deadly battle, where the champions of both sides fight to the death under the gaze of all the gods. The winner gains glory and a divine reward. The loser… their soul is claimed by the opposing side, to do with it whatever they please. Destroy it. Curse it. Or torture it for all eternity.”

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  Clarisse tightened her grip on the spear.

  “So your friend here could be the one who kills you, if he were chosen. Or any of the campers he lived with, most likely to gather information, taking advantage of the fact that the gods cannot expel him or do anything to him due to the rule that divine beings cannot touch the champions of the opposing side,” she said in a serious tone, repeating words that did not sound entirely her own.

  Annabeth slowly turned toward Percy, staring at him.

  “Wait… you… would you kill one of us?” Annabeth asked, never taking her eyes off him.

  Percy looked away for a moment, as if he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, then closed it before any words could come out, and looked back at Clarisse instead, unable to meet Annabeth’s gaze.

  She felt a deep sense of betrayal, her hands trembling slightly.

  “As you said, Clarisse, the gods cannot interfere until the competition begins. So I am pretty sure Ares sent you to try and take me out…”

  “The gods cannot do anything to you, but the champions of the other side can,” Clarisse interrupted, making Percy raise an eyebrow.

  “Were you chosen as Olympus’ champion?” he asked seriously.

  Clarisse remained silent for a moment.

  “Not yet. But if I defeat you, I will be,” she said at last.

  Percy let out a sigh.

  “Clarisse, I do not know what your father told you, but that is not how this works,” he said, calming himself a little as he looked at her. “He just wants revenge for what happened with…”

  “Shut up. Do not talk nonsense. My father came down from Olympus to give me this task personally. He gave me this ship and these men to kill you. If this is not a mission from Olympus, then what is it?” she said, shaking her head as she took a fighting stance. “I will be Olympus’ champion, and I will make my father proud. I… will be loved by him.”

  Percy was about to say something, but when he heard what Clarisse said last, he closed his mouth for a moment before speaking with a much heavier seriousness.

  “Are you abandoning the mission to save your siblings? Your friends and your family? Just to accept one given to you by your father, the man who loves no one but himself?” Percy said, looking straight into her eyes. “And all of that without even a shred of confirmation that what he told you is actually true? That you will truly be chosen as Olympus’ champion if you kill me? And then what? Huh? Do you think he will come down and hug you? That you will live together like a family? That he will really do that? Is that what you believe?”

  “I… I… I will defeat you. And then I can still complete the mission for the Fleece. That is the plan. No one will suffer. I…” Clarisse began to hesitate. Her hand trembled slightly on the spear. Even though she had always been a bully, always aggressive, she had never killed anyone. And everything she did, everything she had done until now, was nothing more than a way to prove herself to her father. Something anyone could see.

  Something all the campers did.

  Apollo’s children wanted to be the best musicians, the best archers. Athena’s children wanted to be the smartest, the wisest. The children of Hermes, of Dionysus, of Hephaestus. Each of them tried to become what their parents believed was best. They were born with inherited talents, but that did not mean they had to follow them without question. And yet, they did.

  They did it just so their parents would look at them, even for a moment. So they would be acknowledged. So they would feel pride. So their names would be known.

  And yet…

  “And yet, he does not care about us. Just like the other gods,” Percy said, staring at her. Then he glanced at Annabeth for a second. “They are not interested in us. We are who we are, but why should we want them? We walk our own paths.”

  He looked back at Clarisse.

  “We fight for ourselves. Our battles belong only to us. Not because we follow some absurd competition. If I ever fight another camper, maybe he would be my friend, but no one forces me to kill him. And that is why I follow my master. He may not be gentle or kind, but he is always there for me. He gave me something my father never did. A father figure who did not leave.”

  Clarisse hesitated for a moment.

  “Even so, I have to do it. I have to try,” she said, tightening her grip on the spear.

  Percy looked at her in silence. Then he let out a sigh and drew his black sword. With a single motion, he removed the jacket he was wearing. It was hidden armor. His torso was left bare, completely sculpted, with defined muscles despite his young age.

  Annabeth’s eyes widened when she noticed that Percy’s entire body was covered in what looked like tattoos, ancient runes that moved softly, as if they were alive.

  “Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, god of war of Mount Olympus. I, Percy Jackson, son of Miraak, The One Who Walks Outside of Fate, as the first Dragon Priest of his new order, accept your challenge to battle.”

  The sea answered.

  The waves began to churn violently, massive walls of water slamming against the hull of Clarisse’s metal ship, making it groan and creak. It was as if Poseidon himself was furious at Percy’s words.

  But Percy did not seem to care.

  He stood firm, in guard, his black sword ready.