Chapter Text
Chapter One:
“ Sometimes legends make reality, and become more useful than the facts.” -Salman Rushdie
History is never exactly what you see on the pages of your textbook. Most children learn this young, as they read Anne Frank’s Diary after only having learned of the Holocaust through numbers and broad statements. History quickly becomes twisted through the lens of many hundreds of points of view, cultural context lost to time, and the whims of colonial powers. People’s true actions, true voices, and true personalities get lost and watered down.
You, likely somewhere between 8th and 10th grade, read the tale of Odysseus’s great journey home after the Trojan War. Of his wife, the ever-loyal Penelope, sitting in front of her loom, weaving, and unweaving for years to stave off rude men looking to steal her husband’s throne. As you grew up, you may have seen the story as a metaphor for PTSD. You may have questioned the years Odysseus spent with Calypso. You might have realized that with no father, brother, or in-laws for twenty years, the kingdom of Ithaca had to have been run by its Queen. You might have put together that Penelope was a Spartan Princess before she was an Ithacan Queen and wondered if she remembered her days throwing discus and wrestling with her cousins and sisters.
The truth surrounding the Odyssey is far more complex than one might imagine.
It started nearly 4000 years in the future when a child was conceived and their thread was spun twice as thick as the others and with a gentle golden glow. The fates giggled and chortled over their new project, a thread that had been spun for the first time, but was already within their beloved tapestry of fate. A thread that was meant to weave throughout history multiple times. For now though, as the thread passed through for the first time, they made the first pass, and Penelope Jackson screamed her lungs out as she passed into the world and a storm raged outside to shield the view of the new forbidden demigod.
The three sisters wove her a hard life, knowing she would need the strength it would give her for the path they had set forth for her. Penni Jackson faced monster after monster, monsters of humanity and the divine as well as those who might make dinner of her. She saw some of the cruelest side of humanity, the worst the gods could offer at the time she lived, and monsters so terrifying that they had given men nightmares in the past. She was prevented from ever knowing her father’s adoration of her, from being an equal to her army, from the normalcy she so craved. The Moirai were well aware of their cruelty as they wove her battles with Titans. Fate was cruel. All humans knew that. The best they could offer the ever-important Penni Jackson was moments of peace and happiness between the sufferings.
Two months after the second Titanomachy, a hand reached down and Penelope Jackson’s thread passed into it and up into the past. The time she’d been born into, to harden her and teach her kindness all at once, thinned. The threads became see-through, a background to the true time they were creating. Not fake, for Penelope still lived, but no longer real either.
Lachesis plucked a silver-blue thread from the transparent image, a duplicate thread becoming solid as she did, and began to weave Sally Jackson’s fated meeting with the great god Poseidon once again.
------
Penni…was not in Cabin Three. That should have distressed her more than it did, after all, anyone who was able to take her from her father’s cabin was certainly not good news. But, Penni found herself unable to conjure the strength to be wary or angry. Even sullen exasperation felt out of reach. Penni felt…cradled. Warm. Safe. Like she was a little girl wrapped in her Mom’s arms after a bad day at school.
But…she wasn’t. For one thing, she certainly had her boobs, which meant she was definitely at least fourteen and not the little preschooler who didn’t understand why her card was always red and she always had to sit during recess. For another thing, she was fairly sure she was in the water.
Penni stretched and sat up, rubbing her eyes to chase away any remaining sleep. Yep. Definitely underwater. That’s weird. Was sleep swimming a thing? Penni had read a story about a lady who’d driven a car while she was asleep, so maybe it wasn’t impossible? Then again, that article could have been like clickbait or something.
She tried to push her floating curls back, grumbling that they had come completely out of their usual braid, floating around her head like a halo. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. Her hair was already unruly enough on land, underwater it would be even worse. Penni had no doubts that the ringlets would end up blocking her vision at essential moments, such as when she was inevitably attacked by a sea serpent or something. With her luck, it was simply a matter of time rather than a mere possibility. She needed to find a hair tie, stat.
Finally, Penni opened her eyes and found herself looking at two very startled-looking Mer Palace Guards. Yeah. That was expected. She tended to end up shocking someone whenever she found her way to Atlantis somehow. But, her dad had never forbidden her to visit. And he’d likely know how exactly she got here, so bonus.
Then she noticed something else. The two Mer guards were looking down at her, yes, but not nearly as much as they would have had they been if she’d been lying on the sea floor.
Like a crash, her brain finally snapped into the waking world and her surroundings came into focus all at once. She was in Atlantis, yes. Penni could see the wall of her father’s palace less than 100 yards away and the Mers were wearing Palace Guard uniforms with Royal Guard pins. Queen Amphitrite had made sure Penni knew the difference when she’d visited, though Penni still wasn’t sure why. And weirdest of all, Penni was floating in water that was separate from the normal ocean all around her.
She looked behind herself, quick enough to make herself dizzy for a second. She was floating in the most beautiful fountain she’d ever seen, decorated with mother of pearl and lapis lazuli with jets of water creating sprays of mist and rainbows. She’d never seen this fountain before, and part of her struggled to believe it wasn’t on display in front of the palace for all to see. It was a work of supreme craftsmanship and having it sequestered away behind the palace in the (admittedly beautiful) coral garden around them felt like a shame.
The guards were, predictably, much taller than herself. From her few visits to Atlantis after the war, Penni that even the shortest of her father’s Mer citizens towered over her, most hovering between 7 and 9 feet tall. Compared to her totally average 5’5”, she’s always felt incredibly small around them. What stuck about these two guards though, was their clothing. She vaguely recognized the style as an ancient form of Atlantean clothing. Their clothing was made of red kelp-silk, but rather than sewn into tunics, it was one long strip wrapped around the Mers’ chest and stomach in a specific checked pattern and tied up the back like a corset. Armbands made of dyed leather and baleen indicated rank and class, but these guards’ armbands were simply braided, without charms from family and friends. Even their armor was different. With much simpler buckles holding the leather straps down.
Penni didn’t like the look of this at all, but she certainly wasn’t going to sit here when her Dad was more likely than not right inside his palace with answers.
She shifted her weight and stood in the fountain, taking careful steps towards the edge. When she moved to pull herself out of the fountain, the guards finally seemed to jump into action.
They blocked her path, ushering her away from the edge without touching her, panicked looks on their faces, all while speaking rapidly in a flowing vowel-heavy language. And there was another problem. She couldn’t understand them. At all. She caught the words “father” and “mother” and “please” but that was it. It sounded vaguely similar to the Aquatic form of Immortal Greek the citizens of Atlantis spoke, but at the same time, it wasn’t that.
Penni shook her head, wondering if she was still dreaming and instinctually reaching up to check herself for a head wound before realizing how silly that was. There were very few things that saltwater couldn’t heal at least partially, and concussions were definitely one of the things it healed easily. She’d gotten plenty over the years to know that for certain. If she’d hurt herself enough to cause her brain to stop understanding words, Will would have her chained to a bed in the infirmary and be force-feeding her ambrosia while screaming for Apollo. There was a zero percent chance he’d let her…somehow end up in a fountain in Atlantis without stirring up a full mess and nearly gathering up the entire Camp for a new war.
Actually, no. Annabeth would be doing the war preparations.
Penni pushed her hair away from her face again and smiled sheepishly at the guards. “Uh, thanks for the concern, guys, but I’m alright! Just confused, really. If I could just talk to my Dad…”
She moved towards the fountain edge again and they panicked even more this time. Penni’s eyes flashed with shock and a bit of anger as one of them put a hand on her shoulder, pushing like he wanted her to sit down. She. Was. Fine .
Penni was about to shove him away when she felt the millisecond of pressure that pricked at her skin before a god appeared. Only this time, it was two gods. Penni recognized her father and stepmother immediately, and relaxed, ducking away from the guard’s hand and moving towards the edge of the fountain.
Penni was surprised that it was Amphirite that rushed forward to help her out of the fountain. She had a decent relationship with her stepmother now, but it was more like a distant aunt than anything. Dad had always been the one to rush to her side when he could help.
Amphitrite cupped Penni’s face and started to speak. Again, Penni couldn’t understand what she was saying and it was starting to drive her mad. Of the entire multiple sentences Amphitritie said, Penni picked out “Poseidon,” “pearl,” and female pronouns. She scrunched up her nose in frustration. Which just made Amphitrite and Poseidon laugh. Well. Apparently, that reaction made sense to whatever had been said.
Poseidon came forward to join them, beaming with pride and joy that made Penni’s heart soar. He placed a hand on Amphitrite’s back and gazed at Penni with such adoration that she didn’t know what to think. She blushed and ducked her head shyly. She knew her Dad loved her, she was one of the lucky few demigods who could say that without hesitation. But it was rare that he made it so obvious. Poseidon spoke then. Penni caught “name” and “daughter,” but that was it.
Okay. Something was definitely wrong.
“Dad…something’s wrong. I have no idea what you’re asking. Or how I got here. What’s…what’s going on?”
Poseidon and Amphitrite looked at each other in shock and concern.
Penni got the distinct impression that they didn’t understand her any more than she understood them.
-----
Amphitrite had felt such a rush of joy when the guard had told her and Poseidon that a girl had been born of the fountain in her private coral gardens. She had felt somewhat off for a few weeks since the night she had spent with her husband in said garden. Godly births were often odd, and if anything in her gardens was going to spawn a new child it would be the fountain her husband originally created for Athena’s city of fools. It had so much of his divine essence in it, Amphritie was surprised it hadn’t already spit out a beast-child or two.
Still, a new daughter, emerging from the fountain like a nymph from a pond, accepting her assistance with her official birth as she stepped out of her fountain, was a pleasant and much-welcome surprise. And at first glance, their new daughter was as beautiful as a nymph as well, with ebony curls, her father’s sea-green eyes, and flushed cheeks. She looked much like her father, as though her husband’s handsome features had been smooth into a feminine form with gentle hands.
And then the girl tried to speak.
Now, Amphitrite was by no means her sister-in-law. There would be no casting out of her new daughter, and certainly no throwing off mountains. But, gods were supposed to be born perfect representations of their domains, and nymphs always emerged beautiful and whole, especially from such pure waters. The fact that their new daughter could not communicate was greatly troubling. Poseidon, ever the protective father, had scooped her up and delivered her to the palace healers without another word to either his wife or new child.
Amphitrite followed her husband, her anxiety swirling the sea around and above her. She had never heard of a mortal born with such an affliction, much less a god. Yes, there were gods whose very natures made speech anathema to their being, and there were those like Echo who’d had their voices cursed, but very a complete blockage of understandable speech.
“AMBLYNIA!!!” Poseidon bellowed as they appeared in the healers’ halls. Mer, Nymph, and Spirit alike fleeing as much as they could from his potential rage.
Amphitrite relaxed as Amblynia swam over to them. There were few Healers she would trust with her children more than Amblynia, a midwife, potioneer, and creator of antidotes. She was a minor nymph-goddess, a daughter of Thaumas, who presided over the medicines that the sea produced from its flora, fauna, and fungi. She had also been Amphitrite’s midwife for the births of her three body-born children. If she could be trusted with Triton, Benthesikyme, and Kymopoleia during their short but vulnerable infancies, Amphitrite could trust her with their newest daughter as well. Even if there were no answers she could give.
“Your Majesties,” Amblynia bowed and then straightened. “And your Highness. Have we been blessed with a new princess, my Lord?”
“Something has gone wrong,” Poseidon said, voice hard as he pushed past Amblynia into the private healing room near the back.
Their youngest twisted in her father’s arms, clearly trying to free herself. Like a toddler calf who insisted they didn’t need to be under-fin. Now that they had returned to their godly size, she looked so small. Amphitrite felt her essence swirl with further fear. Standing side-by-side on land, she wouldn’t even come to her father’s knee. It was not necessarily another negative sign, Nymphs were naturally mortal-sized after all, but to be born a true nature spirit from two powerful gods was…unlikely.
Poseidon went to place her on the kline in the private room. He likely meant to do so gently, but (clearly her father’s daughter) the girl tried to get out of her father’s arms on her own and ended up being unceremoniously dumped on the kline instead.
The girl shouted out something in a squeal. A single word as she glared up at Poseidon and then huffed, looking so much like how her father pouted. It sounded vaguely familiar to Amphitrite’s ears, like it was one of the noises she’d spoken before. It sounded like two deltas surrounding a vowel.
Amphitrite split off a small piece of her consciousness to alert Triton of his new sister’s birth and ask that he see a guest room opened up for her until they could prepare a proper room in the family wing. She sat down on the edge of the bed as her youngest adjusted herself to sit up with her legs crossed. The newborn huffed again as her hair floated in front of her eyes and she pushed it back again.
Amphitrite looked over at Amblynia and started to explain. “She was a bit of a surprise, as I’m sure you can tell. But…I fear something may have gone wrong with her birth. She doesn’t seem to understand anything we say and when she attempts to speak…well it’s no language I’ve ever heard.”
Amblynia hummed, her brow furrowed. “Yet her mind matches her body?”
“It certainly seems too.” Poseidon had not taken his eyes off their newest daughter as she muttered under her breath and tried to braid her hair out of her face without a ribbon or cloth to hold it in place. Amphitrite had to hold back a laugh, but there was no denying that while she was young, this girl was certainly no infant.
“I know you’re talking about me. It’s rude. I’m right here you know.”
Amphitrite bit her cheek to hold in her laughter at her daughter’s tone. She recognized that tone from raising those children of hers who weren’t born fully grown. Yes, there was no doubt her mind matched her body.
Amblynia also looked amused. “I believe that answers my question. Perhaps the communication issues have something to do with her domain? I may be able to tell with a sample of her ichor.”
The girl looked up at the last word. She seemed to understand that at least.
“No…ichor.” The words came out with difficulty. They were heavily accented and it seemed as though her tongue was struggling to form the sounds. Like a Barbarian trying to speak Hellenike.
Amphitrite beamed. Above them, the waves calmed and fish and corals began to brighten in color. Oh! Oh! It wasn’t her mind! Her daughter was speaking a different language and did not know theirs! Still unheard of, perhaps, but not an insurmountable obstacle! Her little one could learn to speak Hellenike and this would not last forever!
Poseidon’s mood had brightened, only to darken again. Amphitrite had been confused, but as she looked at her youngest, her newborn, the shift made sense. The girl had been born in a gown of seafoam, it covered her plenty, but as it was of the sea, it had reacted to her parents' moods. With their anxiety, her gown had turned dark. With just those few moments of joy, it had lightened like a clear sea.
Their daughter, their newborn daughter, was covered in scars.
The most glaring, four huge claw slashes running from just below her collarbone to the end of her ribcage. A puncture wound on the back of her hand. A stab through her thigh. Faded burns, white lines and patches really, along her shoulders and upper back. A dozen more much smaller cuts and punctures littering her body. Almost imperceptible little scars along her fingers, hands, and wrists.
“HOW?!” The sea around them and the ground under them shook with Poseidon’s rage. Normally, this is when Amphitrite would sweep in, to narrow the focus of her husband’s rage rather than let him loose on the entire world. But this time, her own anger compounded his. She did not have the will to stop both her rage and his own.
How? How?! How had their child been brought into the world with such trauma on her body?! Her very essence likely felt the strain of the marks, as Hephaestus felt the pain of his deformed leg. Gods were immortal and typically their essence formed perfect bodies, but they were not immune to pain or injury. But for her to be born with such marks of pain…it shouldn’t be possible. The night they had created her had been full of love and ecstasy and while the fountain was certainly a reminder of a failure that never should have been, Poseidon had poured himself into its creation with a fervor Amphitrite had not seen since he created horses. There was no reason for her to reflect such pain.
Then, her newborn child did the most incredible thing. She did not flinch away from her father’s ire. She did not seek to hide in her mother’s arms, afraid of the power in front of her. The girl instead, kicked her legs and swam up to her father, first, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking. She spoke then.
“
Dad, it's okay. I’m okay. I’m still here. I’m okay. I survived.
”
She continued to speak, repeating the same words over and over again. Her big green eyes pleading, yet gentle. As Poseidon calmed down, she moved to sit on his shoulder, softly repeating the same words as she did. Amphitrite blinked away tears, of joy, of concern, of sorrow, she wasn’t sure. Their daughter, so recently born, had managed what only Amphitrite had before. A feat most mortals considered impossible.
She calmed her father’s anger.
Poseidon took her from his shoulder to gaze at her. She treaded water, smiling shyly at him. She asked something, and Poseidon chuckled. He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of a finger. She blushed and ducked away from the affection swimming back over to Amphitrite. She settled next to her mother and leaned against her, body slumping a bit. Amphitrite smiled down at her gently and tucked her closer. The little one seemed to be a bit drained. Well, it had certainly been an eventful first hour of life.
“Iriphonte.”
Amphitrite looked up at her husband in amusement. “What?”
“Iriphonte. Her name will be Iriphonte.”
“Sound of Rainbows…” she gazed down at her daughter as the newborn struggled to keep her eyes open and kept pushing her hair out of her face.
Iriphonte, who’d emerged from a fountain made to allow instant communications, rejected out of foolishness. Iriphonte, who in her first hour of life managed to calm her father without understandable words. Iriphonte, who seemed like she may be as delightful, beautiful, and difficult to ignore as Iris’s rainbows.
“Iriphonte. It’s perfect, husband.” Amphitrite beamed.
Her spirits dipped as her fingertips brushed against the scar line on Iriphonte’s shoulder. Still, even with that joyous moment, there was something wrong with her daughter and they needed answers if they were going to help her.
She turned towards the Healer who was waiting at the edge of the room. “Amblynia. Please take a sample of Princess Iriphonte’s ichor and see what you can find out. If we can figure this out without taking her to the Bright One or his kin…”
Poseidon met her eyes with an agreeing nod. Apollo had already taken one of his daughters, Ourea, as a lover. While it was never a true courtship and no promises had been exchanged, Amphitrite knew Poseidon still had…complicated feelings about it. Phoebus had many lovers over the years. Many he parted amicably with, others not so. When one caught the eye of Apollo, you ran the risk of tragedy as much as you did joy. They did not even know Iriphante’s domains. The risk was too great.
Amblynia gathered her tools. Iriphonte stirred and tilted her head.
“
What’s going on?
”
“I just need a small sample of your ichor, Princess Iriphonte. It will only take a moment.”
Amblynia gently gripped the godling’s wrist and held her arm out. Amphitrite cupped her daughter’s back, careful to make sure to hold her arm and shoulder steady. Iriphonte looked at Amphitrite in confusion and Amblynia took that moment to strike.
With a celestial bronze scalpel, she made a small cut on Iriphonte’s arm near the inner elbow. Just as quickly, she tilted the godling’s arm and squeezed slightly to try to gather more than a few drops in the small sample bowl before the saltwater healed the wound.
It was not ichor that dripped out though.
Amphitrite and Poseidon both stared in horror at the red liquid gathered in the bowl. Iriphonte, too young to know better, hissed at the cut and glared at Amblynia over the betrayal. Completely naive to the fragility of her very existence.
It was not ichor in that bowl. It was blood. Mortal blood.
------
Penni glared at the mysterious nymph as Amphitrite ushered her out of the and into the palace halls. Okay, the little cut hadn’t really hurt, but it still felt like a rather rude thing to do. Yes, the cut had healed in seconds, but still!
Penni stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, and looked down at her arms in shock. She’d…been injured. A small injury, yes, but…the Curse of Achilles had made her invulnerable . The blade should have broken on her skin, not the other way around.
“Iriphonte? What’s wrong, little one?”
Penni ignored her stepmother and pinched her arm. Hard. She even twisted the skin between her fingers. It. Hurt. How did it hurt?! Where was the Curse?!
Amphitrite carefully peeled Penni’s fingers away from her skin, a concerned look on her face. Penni didn’t care. She stared down at the quickly fading red mark with more than a little bit of fear coursing through her veins. Styx was an incredibly powerful goddess. She was hatred and passion and oaths. Her gift-slash-curse wasn’t something you lost . Penni wasn’t even sure there were any recorded instances of such a thing happening, but she knew for certain that there weren’t many beings powerful enough to override her.
Did…did Styx let her lose the curse? Did she take it away?
Why?
Amphitrite was trying to speak with her again. Penni didn’t even bother trying to piece apart the words. Why was this affecting her so much? Kronos was gone. She had no reason to be so powerful anymore, and she never had wanted to be like the male heroes of old to begin with, but it still stung.
It was almost like Styx was saying she wasn’t good enough for the curse.
Amphitrite kept glancing at Penni in worry as she led her into the palace. Penni had never spent enough time here to actually know her way around, so she’d quickly lost complete track of where they’d been. In the two weekend visits she’d managed to find time for after the war, Penni had learned how to get from her room to the private dining room, and from there to the throne room and the training yard.
But, Penni thought she recognized the area they were in now. She was fairly certain they were in the family wing and she felt her shoulders slump with relief. Maybe her stupid brain would start working again once she got some sleep. Not being able to understand anyone was getting really, really annoying.
Amphitrite led Penni into a room and Penni paused in the doorway. This…wasn’t her room. It looked more like… temporary guest quarters. Nice, sure, and a little smaller than her bedroom (which wasn’t actually a problem) but it had the feeling of…emptiness. She looked around, brows furrowed as Triton swam over to them. No orange Camp Half-Blood shirts were cast over the chair by the window where she liked to watch schools of fish. No chair by the window at all, actually. The bed was made instead of the covers being thrown around in her sleep. No worn-down sea-otter plush stuffed under her pillow. (Where it definitely wasn’t molding, Dad. Penni knew how to secretly make sure her childhood toys didn’t rot under the water, thank you very much.) No bronze daggers scattered on every surface.
There was nothing of anyone here.
Penni turned back to her stepmother and half-brother to try to question what was going on (probably with more miming than she’d ever want to do) only to freeze.
Triton didn’t like her. Whenever their paths crossed, he barely managed to contain his disdain to his eyes and tone. Today, Triton doesn’t even have a trace of that disdain in his eyes. Rather, curiosity and a touch of excitement.
“Hello, it’s good to meet you, sister. I’m Triton, your elder brother.”
Ugh. Penni is going to kill her brain. Maybe she’ll replace it with enchanted seaweed and become an actual seaweed brain.
Her frustration must have shown on her face because Triton got a vaguely annoyed look on his face. Amphitrite started speaking to him in quiet, gentle tones. Penni decided to take a loop around the room as they talked, not liking the idea of being spoken of when she was right there.
Penni had settled to looking out the window while they finished speaking, watching schools of fish swim in fun patterns. It was calming and nearly hypnotic, quieting her racing mind and relaxing her stress just enough to make her feel more comfortable.
“Absolutely not, Mother!”
Penni turned at Triton’s raised voice. She was expecting him to look angry, but instead, he just looked utterly heartbroken.
Well. That was certainly…odd.
“
The Fates have done this to torment us. You cannot make me love her. Not after Pallas.”
Triton looked over his shoulder at her, his face hardening and that sadness disappearing behind a hard metaphorical wall. Then he swam away, the door shutting a bit too hard behind him. Penni looked over at Amphitrite, who sighed lightly and swam over to hold her close. Penni submitted to the hug, her brain starting to puzzle the pieces together.
Pallas. That name was vaguely familiar. Like something Annabeth had mentioned. Wasn’t it one of Athena’s epithets? The one that’s origins were muddy. But it was also one only used in relation to the Odyssey these days. No demigod called her Pallas Athena anymore.
Anymore. These days.
The guards’ uniforms were an ancient style she’d only seen in murals. Triton used a word that Homer associated with Athena. There were no replicas of mortal technology. No TVs or radios. The language was similar to the Ancient Greek she spoke but it wasn’t Ancient Greek. Amphitrite was treating her like a daughter . Her Dad hadn’t recognized her.
She wasn’t in her time. It was impossible, but she couldn’t ignore the clear signs.
She was in the past.