Being separated from Thalia felt like losing my human shield at a party full of monsters. Okay, technically they were gods and demigods, but sometimes the difference was more about vocabulary than attitude.
I was trying to move without being seen. I even considered crawling under one of those tables covered with Greek cloths and golden embroidery and scuttling along the floor like a crab. Honestly, it wasn't a bad strategy. I imagined myself sliding between robes and sandals as if I were infiltrating an enemy base—except in this case, the enemy was Olympian gossip and social awkwardness.
I took refuge next to a snack table. I was studying whether the grapes were real or just celestial decoration when a voice spoke behind me.
"Drink?"
I turned, already expecting Hermes with a tray or some demigod trying to make me talk about Annabeth. But no.
It was him.
Prometheus.
My brain took half a second to recall everything: the Battle of Manhattan, that negotiation where he offered me surrender with a calculated smile and a box of Pandora under his arm. The same smile was now on his face.
"Prometheus," I said in a neutral tone. As best I could.
"Percy Jackson," he nodded, elegant as if this were a gala instead of a mythological coven. "A mojito?"
I eyed him suspiciously.
"I don't drink."
"Wise choice." He handed me the glass anyway. "But accept this toast, it's the least I can do. Besides, it's alcohol-free."
I wasn't sure if refusing it would be a diplomatic offense, so I accepted it, though I didn't drink it. I just held it like it was a magical barrier against awkward compliments. For the record, it didn't work.
"I've wanted to thank you for a long time," he said with that practiced calm that immortals have after seeing too many eras go by. "You were the one who asked for mercy for those of us who fought on the wrong side. And the one who rejected immortality to ask for something that benefited others. It was a... noble act. Rare. And tremendously uncomfortable for the gods."
I shifted.
"I just did what felt right."
"You did well. And that, Percy Jackson, in this game, has consequences."
I frowned.
"What game?"
He smiled like he had just cast the bait and was waiting for me to bite.
"The game of thrones." He paused, savoring the dramatic effect. "No matter the era, there are always power struggles. Alliances, betrayals, moving pieces…"
"I thought you were more of a lone wolf."
"Oh, no, I've always played. In the first Titanomachy, I sided with the gods because I saw the Titans would lose. Logical, strategic."
"Yeah, I remember," I said. "But then you defied Zeus. And how did that go?"
He looked amused.
"I beat him twice. That cost me hundreds of years chained to a rock with an eagle eating my liver. What do you think?"
"Intense."
"And when Kronos returned, I was wrong. I thought it was time for change. But I underestimated him. And all of you, especially you"
"Thanks, I guess," I said, with a weird mix of sarcasm and discomfort.
"You proved me wrong, that's why I respect you. Even if I don't always agree with your decisions."
"Like rejecting immortality."
"Like believing the gods would change."
I said nothing. He sipped his drink. Then looked down at me with an expression that was almost… melancholic?
"In this game, you win or you lose, Percy. But when the gods move the pieces… sometimes the board itself burns. There's no middle ground."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That those of you who still play with honor, with ideals… don't usually last long. You get broken, corrupted, or simply... removed from the board."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
And just as the weight of his words started to sink in, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I turned.
Apollo, of course.
With that smile of his like winter sun. Pretty, but it doesn't warm.
"Prometheus," he said with venomous courtesy. "What a surprise to see you here. Planning to participate in the games?"
"Oh, no," Prometheus replied, clearly pleased with himself. "This time I'll observe from the outside. It's much more interesting to watch the losers consume themselves."
He gave Apollo a loaded look, then another to me, and bowed theatrically.
"Good luck, champion," he said. "Sincerely."
And he walked away, gliding between the guests as if he had never been there.
Apollo let out a loud sigh.
"Do you have any idea how unbearable that guy is?"
"Yes. And also how scary it is that he's often right."
The glass was still in my hand. Honestly, I hoped it wasn't poisoned. Not because I thought Prometheus wanted to kill me, but because with gods, you never know if "alcohol-free" just means "contains something worse."
When Apollo appeared beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder, I didn't jump, but almost. His presence always carried that warm energy, like the sun coming a little too close for comfort.
"Where did you go?" he asked, frowning with that genuine concern I'd seen in him too often lately. "I was really worried. Thought some bored god might've stepped on you. Or turned you into a decorative flower."
"I just went to get some air," I replied, shrugging. "Ran into Thalia—we hadn't talked in ages. You know how she is... shows up, says something sarcastic, threatens to electrocute you if you laugh at her. It was... nice."
Apollo exhaled, more relieved than he seemed ready to admit.
"You could've told me. If you need to go, just say so. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
He meant it, with that new seriousness of his that I still wasn't used to. It was strange seeing Apollo without his shield of bad jokes, self-flattery, and that arrogance he usually wore like a second skin. Now... now it was clear something had broken in him. Maybe more than one thing.
"I won't stay much longer," I assured him. "But tell me... how are you?"
He looked at me as if the question had caught him off guard. Then ran a hand through his hair and muttered:
"Overwhelmed. I've been avoiding Artemis as much as I can."
I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant.
A few weeks earlier, before the Tournament and before the gods had turned Olympus into some kind of divine runway, Apollo had taken me to an apartment he'd gotten in New York. Discreet, with big windows, an uncomfortable couch, and plants that inevitably died. We used it as a hideout—me, to avoid being found by divine beings, and him, by his sister.
There, he vented to me. He told me about the fight with Artemis and how they'd said awful things. She accused him of acting out of ego, not justice. He felt that, for the first time in ages, his sister no longer knew him.
I just listened. I didn't know what to say. Well, I told him to talk to her, the usual. That you can't fix what isn't talked about. But he just shook his head and told me he'd rather leave it. That words, when used poorly, stop being useful to fix anything.
"You should talk to her," I said now, gently. "Before this ends. Or tomorrow or next week. But talk to her. Invite her to lunch... or to shoot arrows at something that deserves it. Whatever works for you two."
Apollo looked at me, and for a moment I didn't know if he was going to tell me to shut up or change the subject. But then he smiled. Not one of those dazzling grins that could melt half the room, but a genuine one. The kind he didn't use in public or with the other gods. Just with me, once in a while. Enough to make the world feel, for a second, a little less likely to fall apart.
"Thank you, Percy. You have no idea what it means to have you there."
"Don't say it too loud," I replied. "If the other gods hear, they might make me some kind of celestial advisor."
"Or Olympic therapist."
"Now that would be an eternal punishment."
We laughed, just a little. Then I nudged him lightly with my elbow.
"So, what do you want to do now?" he asked as we walked between marble columns.
I shrugged.
"We could go watch some movies at the apartment," I suggested. "No politics, no tournament prep, just you, me, and some terrible '90s comedy."
Apollo laughed, and for the first time in hours, he seemed genuinely relaxed.
"Deal. But you're choosing. Last time I picked, we ended up watching The Hunger Games and you spent the next day saying you wanted to punch Gale in the face."
"And I lost all desire to compete in the tournament. Seriously, what kind of choice was that?" I said, raising my eyebrows.
We both laughed, in that half-exhausted way you can only afford when you know, for a little while, no one is going to ask you to save the world.
And as we walked toward the elevator, I thought that, even if it was just until the end credits, we could leave the chaos of Olympus on pause.
And gods, did we need that.
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What do you all think of Prometheus? I just couldn't leave him out... he would not pass up an opportunity to see the gods (especially Zeus) suffer. Oh, and the little bond of Apollo and Percy ;)