Chapter Text
TELEMACHUS did not like going to sleep anymore. His dreams nowadays were always lacking somehow. Not that his days were any better. Everything appeared bleak and colorless, like the sun had somehow lost its power and was only giving light without any warmth. Days bled into each other without anything noticeable happening.
The only time the Prince felt even the faintest of emotions (other than lethargy) was either if he was playing the lyre (because he could trick himself into thinking there was someone sitting in front of him, crooked smirk on a beautiful face, listening) or if he fiddled with the shark tooth between his collarbones. That necklace never left his body anymore, not even while sleeping or bathing, too great was the fear of it somehow vanishing. Like its maker had.
It had been a year since Telemachus last saw his friend. And his absence hurt more and more every day. Someone had once written in a book (he did not even remember really reading), that the pain of losing a loved one would dull over time…but it never did for the Prince.
Percy was a big, bleeding wound in his heart, that did not even have the grace of pretending to close somewhat over the months.
He missed his Sea-Boy like a limb. And there was no one he could talk to about it. Not even his mother. Even though she might have understood the best…
So, he despised dreaming nowadays even more than the black nothingness of dreamless sleep. Because dreaming meant longing, meant seeing the memories of his time with the demigod play over and over.
Laughing, talking, smiling.
Both of them together, happy.
Telemachus had daily thoughts about cutting his heart out just to make the pain of not having those things stop.
He wanted to bury himself deep beneath his work or other people, hoping that their mundaneness would finally enable him to let go of the boy who stole his whole soul so effortlessly. Who was everything but mundane, with his powers and jokes and bravery. But then there would be his voice in his head. Deep, full of mirth, and smoother than any silk.
Always, Dream-Boy.
Percy had promised to come back. And Telemachus believed him. He had no other choice. Because living with this pain, knowing it was hopeless, would destroy him beyond repair. And he could not do this to his Mom (even that word was only a cheap way of keeping the demigod close – he had only started calling his mother that after their last meeting). So believing, hoping, waiting it was.
Until his fourteenth birthday.
-
The day had been even more tiring than the ones before. His mother insisted on a small celebration that turned out way bigger than both of them had wanted. But with over sixty guests, who wanted to be entertained, his birthday was nothing more than another reason for the suitors to get drunk and let loose. Telemachus had excused himself as fast as possible, slumping toward his room in the hope of escaping reality and the haunting memories of this exact day a year ago.
He had never told his Sea-Boy, but when Percy had found him glumly sitting in the bushes, sad and angry, it had actually been his birthday as well. And spending it with the demigod, getting to play his lyre and receive honest and raving reactions, had been the best present ever. Telemachus could not forget the look of admiration his Sea-Boy had given him then. Even now, thinking about the glittering, fascinating sea-green eyes of his friend left his heart soaring, and a rare smile broke through his otherwise indifferent expression.
Laying down on his cold bed and closing his eyes, Telemachus was ready for whatever awaited him.
At least he had thought so…
-
The cavern around him was dark, made from black stone that shone ominously in the light of a few green (!?) torches. Telemachus had never seen anything like it before. Flames were supposed to be red or yellow, not green…with the exception of driftwood that had been soaked in salt water long enough. He had wanted to show Percy how colourful such a campfire could be, but there hadn’t been time. These torches were not made from driftwood. But they still lit up the place in such a strange colour.
This was the first hint for the prince that this dream was nothing like the usual nightmares or memories haunting him.
The cavern was littered with broken stones and statues of people Telemachus could not recognize (despite his extensive teaching of famous humans and gods alike). It looked like a giant, destroyed palace, which remains were building this cave. It felt unnatural dark, and a chill crept over the boy’s bare arms as he looked around with sharp eyes.
Right in the middle of the cave, only seen because of the sparse light, lay a girl on the ground. Black hair fanned out all around her. She wore the strangest clothes Telemachus had ever seen. Some kind breaches made from blue, coarse fabric that hugged the shape of her legs indecently, making the prince look away immediately out of courtesy. Her top was equally unusual and beside her head lay some floppy green headgear.
Telemachus stepped closer, curious but careful, and look for some kind of weapon on the way, seeing as he didn’t have his own sword with him. The girl was younger than him, her face round and a few freckles were splattered on the olive skin. They looked ill and faint in this cave.
She was unconscious but whimpered periodically and only when he stood directly in front of her, the boy could see a ceiling of dark clouds bearing down on her. A dark kind of mist lay over her shoulders and back, pressing down harshly, leaving a painfully looking indent in the small of her back. The ceiling, or mist, or whatever it was, changed its shape and appeared to be not really tangible most of the time.
Telemachus was clever enough to not touch that mass of…something, but he did try to lift a small, sharp shard of black rock lying around, only for his hand to slide clean through it.
The memory of Percy’s first few visits came back like a hammer, hitting him and making the prince realize exactly what this was.
He was dreaming.
Dreaming like his Sea-Boy always had. Immediately, Telemachus looked around, trying to find a hint of his friend, only for his gaze to be caught by a steep slope not far away, opening the cavern, or ruin, further. There was movement in the darkness and not a moment later the person he had longed to see for so long stepped into sight.
Percy looked horrible. Beaten and bloody and bruised. One hand protectively slung around his midriff, his tunic spluttered with blood and ripped in various places. The cut on his face was by far not as healed as it had appeared during their last meeting, and there was dirt clinging stubbornly to his cheek. The dark, unruly hair was pure chaos, but still looked unbearably soft and Telemachus desperately wanted to stroke through it one more time. Even if only to get the crumbs of stone and dirt out of it.
The only thing that was not different in any way were his eyes. Oh, how Telemachus adored Percy’s eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of greenish-blue the Prince had ever seen. No fabric, no painting and no dye ever came close to replicating the exact same saturation of those gemstones, set in the aristocratic face that could only belong to someone with divine blood. It was no accident that the prince had first thought him to be a god in disguise. No mortal men could have such a radiant aura of otherness. Percy had been special right from the start, simply in the way he breathed and moved, always confident, even when he stumbled, always honest, even in his rage and his fluster. If Telemachus were a poet, he could have composed verse after verse about his friend. Starting with those matchless eyes.
Besides that, the color was always a little different, changing, swirling with Percy’s laugh or his jokes or even his furrowed brows when he was angry or frustrated. Like the sea, his irises were always moving, unique and beautiful and so very intense, Telemachus sometime forgot to breathe when they were trained on him.
But that wasn’t the case now, because as the demigod glanced once through the cave, his eyes simply glided over Telemachus. The prince knew that his friends would never ignore him intentionally, so the most likely explanation was that he was simply invisible to the boy, but it did sting his pride a bit. Because even though Percy did not perceive him or his presence, he was definitely able to see the girl.
His Sea-Boy grunted in pain as he stumbled toward the female under the caving ceiling. When he fell to his knees, Telemachus followed.
“Percy?”, the prince asked quietly, only to make sure that the demigod truly could not see or hear him. The missing reaction from the demigod was both devastating and affirming at once. The girl panted harder and the stone around them creaked alarmingly. It was obvious that the ceiling would break her body soon and come down on the both of them (Telemachus was pretty sure he would be unaffected physically, but the thought of Percy being squashed by tons of stones felt like an equally horrible outcome). His friend must be thinking something along the same lines.
“Shit!”, cursed Percy as he felt for the heartbeat and breath of the girl, and his unrepenting foul mouth did make the prince smile, despite the pressing situation. One more look around the room, to find anything that could help, yielded no result once more and the son of Poseidon grimly pressed his lips together, as his captivating eyes hardened in whatever decision he had made. Telemachus may not have been around for all the other dangerous situations the demigod had endured, but from his tales and the way he acted, it was easy to conclude that his next actions would be something reckless and heroic. Maybe both.
And while the prince longed to hear those kind of stories from his friend, seeing them play out was terrifying in a way that made the stakes so much more real. Right now, Telemachus would’ve wanted nothing more than for Percy to flee and save himself from whatever was going on here. The fear of losing him overpowered Telemachus’ sense of compassion and courage. But the son of Poseidon wasn’t like that, which made the prince both feel pride and apprehension. It was infuriating.
Telemachus, unsure what was even happening, watched helplessly as his friend grabbed the darkness above the girl with both hands, grunting and groaning. The tendons in his arms strained as the demigod slowly took over the burden of the ceiling. Sweat was forming over his eyebrows, and the prince could do nothing but silently cheer him on (despite his gut screaming that this was a horrible idea). Percy turned his body around a bit, so that the ceiling rested half on his back and shoulders, giving his hands a little relieve. Soon, all of the pressure was on the demigod, freeing the girl, but Telemachus could see clearly how heavy the stone weighted down on him.
No human should have been able to save a whole cave ceiling from breaking in (What about the structural integrity? Why would all the stones be connected to one point that was able to hold it up like this? It would never occur in nature like that!) But somehow, both the girl (in her unconscious) and Percy were able to do it. As straining and crushing as it appeared to be.
Something wasn’t right here, and Telemachus anxiety grew with every second.
“You should call for help, Percy!”, the prince said, even though his advice would stay unheard. The girl was no longer whimpering between them, but still out cold. In her long, dark hair, a thin streak of grey manifested, no more than a few hairs, barely visible between the others, but the picture made Telemachus flinch.
A burden no mortal shall ever be able to bear.
The words came back from a book the prince had read not too long ago and with a terrified gasped, the gears in his head clicked into place. Instantly, his eyes snapped back to whatever rested now on Percy’s shoulders and dread fell right into Telemachus’ heart: “No…”
“Well, well, well…”, a menacing voice, dark and strong, sent tremors through the ground as it echoed from the stone walls, “Looks like you were right about him after all.”
The shadows receded in front of Telemachus’ eyes, revealing even more black ruins and melted bronze statues and, worst of all, the true magnitude of what exactly rested on Percy’s shoulders. Grey clouds formed a whirling vortex, splattered with stars and sunlight that took the form of a tornado. A literal representation of the sky, only kept apart from the earth by the small figure of the son of Poseidon.
The titan’s curse. The burden of Atlas, rested on his friend’s shoulders. And now, the only thing saving the world from ending in horrific destruction of the two strongest powers clashing together, was the strength and endurance of Percy Jackson.
His Sea-Boy.
“No!”, Telemachus cried louder, throwing himself down by Percy’s side, trying to grab for the sky and help him carry it, but his hand slid right through it. Tears of frustration and dread welled in his eyes. The prince was so focused on the terrifying revelation, that he nearly forgot that someone had spoken.
Someone, who was not their friend.
Steps came closer and made the dreaming boy whirl around, locking his gaze onto the two figures on the other side of the ruins. One was definitely a moral, at least in part, older than both Telemachus and Percy, with blond hair and a bleak face, whose only interesting feature was an ugly scar that ran from the bottom of his lip down to his ching. The boy’s once tanned skin looked pale and ill and his blue eyes were underlined with deep rings of sleepless nights. Telemachus disliked him immediately.
The other figure in contrast was much more intimidating. Big and burly, he looked like a warrior straight from the pages of a myth. Slicked black hair and grey eyes that were unmoving, like stone, made his face look brutal and cruel. The malicious voice had for sure been his, seeing as he radiated a sense of danger far greater than anything Telemachus had ever felt before.
A gruesome grin stretched his lips over light brown skin, making the prince’s skin crawl. Telemachus had no clue what the brown clothes he wore were, but the texture and cut were somewhat similar to those of the girl. Maybe a different culture?
A quick look to Percy told him that his Sea-Boy knew at least one of them. Anger and resentment burned in his godly eyes, making them darken and mirror a violent storm. “Luke.”, spat the demigod and the blond boy twitched. One name down.
Luke ignored Percy and turned to his companion: “He was always too much of a hero to leave anyone behind. And seeing as his father ordered all of Olympus to search for him once he felt his presence again…”
“Our prey will be here sooner than later.”, finished the other…man (?) No…he was someone divine for sure. His aura betrayed him.
Telemachus searched his brain for drawings of such a face in his history books, but the solution came to him when he felt Percy shift beside him. If he was truly holding the sky, then the titan, whose task that normally was, walked free. Atlas, second in command to Kronos and titan of endurance, was free.
Whether his friend knew what foe now stood before him or not was anyone’s guess, but no matter what, Percy was not one to take ignorance of him very well. “Oh, shut up traitor! You would know all about leaving someone behind, wouldn’t you? Seeing as you left behind your siblings, your family to go and support an evil egomaniac who will kill them all without batting an eye. Just because daddy did not give you the attention you whished for-“
Like a snake, Luke struck forward and backhanded the demigod hard, making his face jerk to the side. The blond seethed and with a hideous frown he snarled: “You know NOTHING of what I have been through! Pretty, perfect, pampered Percy. Only because your father may have a glint of affection for you doesn’t make him better. The gods do not care for their children. They are selfish and careless and deserved to be wiped out of existence by their betters.”
Telemachus tried to punch the boy right into his ugly mug of a face, but his fist fell right through him, doing nothing to satisfy the quiet rage inside the prince. Just when he was about to try again, a small chuckle made him pause. Percy, whose cut cheek had opened again, blood dripping slowly to the ground, smirked triumphantly as he turned his head around slowly. His smile made the dreaming boy’s heart speed up significantly.
It was crooked and primal, induced with feral rage and righteous anger. Percy looked dangerous and unhinged (and beautiful) as he clapped back: “The gods may not care, but you siblings sure do. You could’ve had a family even without Hermes. A loving, supportive family in Camp Half-Blood. No one forced you to go on that quest and leave. You asked for it. Don’t lie to yourself about how you’re doing this for anything else but your own desire and hatred. Because you won’t convince me.”
The prince watched his friend’s fierceness with shocked admiration. Even though he had no clue what all of this was about, who that other boy exactly was, where they were or how Percy got here, seeing his Sea-Boy fighting always was a mighty display he would not want to miss.
Luke was shaking with rage, and his closed fist was just about to swing again when the other person in the room drew attention to himself with his slow clap. Atlas (at least what Telemachus though was Atlas) came closer, pushing the blond boy out of his way to lean down into Percys face.
“I must say I am impressed with you, son of Poseidon. I did not think there would be so much fight left in you after your little trip down into history.”, the dark voice growled and whatever the words meant, they made the demigod close his mouth with a furious snap. Telemachus recognized the restraint in his friend’s eyes immediately. Whatever the titan had to say must be important. With a new focus, the prince collected every bit of brainpower he had and tried to memorize as much as he could of the enemy’s following rant.
“You see, the plan was not for you to come back at all, but those pesky Fates have already spun your yarn into the fabric of this time way to tight for even my Lord to unravel it completely. You probably don’t even know what happened on that island, or with your friends, or why and where you are now. You must be really confused, but still…you appeared in an unknown place, an unknown time and your first action was to save a girl you never met, from a danger you can’t comprehend. If that isn’t the spirit of a hero… Well, if you had been a bit cleverer, maybe you could have saved Olympus after all. But now that you are trapped under my burden, which will kill you, there is nothing left for us to fear…How disappointingly easy.”
Atlas, now confirmed, turned around before Percy could even muster up a response. The sky on his shoulders groaned and forced him to bend a bit more, making the demigod pant hard. Telemachus could do nothing but watch helplessly as the titan addressed Luke: “Feed him and water him enough to survive. Tie up the other one, we may need to use her again after the boy dies. Keep him alive as long as possible, I am curious to see how strong his little vacation made him. If our prey arrives before he perished, let her watch. I am sure she will enjoy it.”
Telemachus gritted his teeth painfully, helplessly, as the scene blurred before his eyes.