Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any of the characters.
Okay, here is my best attempt at a reading story. I might also do one were the Gods are the ones reading the story. Also, I suck at spelling and grammar so if anyone wants to beta, I would be forever grateful.
In a dark room in the center of the Princess Andromeda Luke Castellan fell to his knees, clutching his head. Black smoke shot out of his body as the dark, cruel, chilling laugh of Kronos filled the room. As all the smoke left he fell forward, face down on the carpet. For a few seconds he stayed down.
Then, Luke pulled himself up, supporting himself with his arms. He glared at the gold sarcophagus. Damn Kronos for doing this to him! Damn him for turning Luke into a monster! Damn him for making all his friends think he was a traitor! Damn him for turning them against him! Damn him!
Before he could start to rant against the Titan King, two monsters came in and grabbed him. They lifted him to his feet and dragged him out of the room and through the ship. When they reached his dark, barren room in the deepest depths of the ship they threw him in. The door slammed shut and locked. Luke didn't bother to try and open it or bang on the door like he used to.
By now he knew it was no use.
Luke picked himself up and walked over to his 'bed.' In truth, it was really just a bench attacked to the wall with a thin blanket and even thinner pillow. The only other furniture in the room was a wooden chair and a small dresser. In between the dresser and the bed was a small waste basket. On top of the dresser was a candle. It was he only thing lighting the room, but it did a very good job. It had been given to Luke by one of the Apollo kids.
He sat with his head in his hands, shuddering in horror as tears slipped from his eyes. Oh gods. Oh gods! He had killed Percy. He had sicked that pit scorpion on him. The younger boy was as good as dead! Luke felt like he was going to be sick. He had killed Percy! He was a murderer!
Feeling his stomach roll, he grabbed the basket and promptly vomited in it. Voices began to ring in his head, sounding like people he knew.
"Murderer." His mother.
"Murderer." His father.
His drawn out yell sounded more like a shriek from some agonized beast than it did the cry of a nine-teen year old boy. He clutched at his head as his shoulders quaked with sobs. No, no, no, no, no! He wasn't a murderer. He wasn't! He hadn't wanted to hurt Percy. Gods, that was the last thing he had wanted! Percy was such a nice kid. So innocent and funny. Defiant, brave, loyal. He was someone Luke had really grown to care about, despite only knowing him for such a short time, and part of the time with his body under the control of Kronos.
"I'm sorry Percy! So sorry! Please, please! I never wanted to hurt you Perce, let alone kill you," he whimpered through his tears.
The voices continued to ring in his head, murmuring things in hate filled voices. He whimpered in pain, denial and fear. No, no, no. No.
"You're a killer Luke." His mother.
"A monster. A traitor. I knew you would be. That is why I never loved you." His father.
"You said we would be a family, Luke. You lied! I hate you!" Annabeth.
"You betrayed me! You killed me Luke. I trusted you and you murdered me." Percy.
"You murdered Percy, Luke. He was only twelve. You just killed him while he sat there, defenseless. You didn't even touch him when you stole his life away." Thalia.
Luke shook his head back and forth, his fingernails digging into his scalp, "No."
"Why?" His mother.
"Why?" His father.
"Why, Luke?" Percy.
"Why did you kill him? He had so much life left. You ripped it all away." Thalia.
Luke scrambled fully onto the bed and huddled in the corner, leaning against the wall as if to escape from the voices. He clutched at his head and moaned, "Noooo."
"It's all your fault Luke" Annabeth.
"Because of you I'm dad and the world is in danger." Percy.
"It's your fault. I hate you Luke." Thalia.
He couldn't handle that. Not that. Anything but that. Thalia couldn't hate him. She just couldn't. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry. Please Thal," he begged through his tears. He continued to sob for gods only know how long until a female voice rang out.
"Hush, Son of Hermes. The boy is not dead."
His head snapped up. Standing before him were three old women. There was only one option as to who they were. The Fates. Instinctively he pulled back away from them. If they saw, which he was willing to bet they did, they didn't show it.
"We are here to give you a special chance" said the middle one.
Despite himself, Luke was intrigued. A special chance? Coming from the Fates, this had to be real, and very important. They didn't just joke around, after all. This chance couldn't be one of the most important decisions of his life!
"What kind of chance?" he asked them slowly. As important as this could be, he had to be cautious. The Fates were dangerous, and there was no telling what could happen with them involved. Nothing was ever as it seemed with the Fates.
"The chance to find out what the son of Poseidon thinks, and see his adventures through his eyes," said another one, "Or, more specifically, read his adventures through his eyes." A book appeared out of nowhere, and she held it out to him.
Read? Then, that would mean that that book was what had happened to Percy this summer, in his own thoughts?
"If you take our offer you may be able to use your new knowledge to help the Gods, however minimally" said the last one.
Help the Gods. That did it. After what he had done, there was only one option for dealing with this. Reaching out, Luke plucked the book from the hands of the middle Fate.
For a moment, it almost seemed like the three women were going to smile, then they simply disappeared with a quick statement of, "We shall leave you to your reading. We will be back."
Luke glanced down at the book. It was blue with a picture of Percy standing in the sea facing the Empire State building and holding a minotaur horn.
Finally, his mind registered what the Fates had said when they first arrived; Hush Son of Hermes. The boy is not dead.
Laughter broke out of his throat. Happy, ecstatic laughter. Percy wasn't dead! He was alive! Luke had never been happier than he was right now. He hadn't killed him! He continued to laugh happily for a while, until his throat grew sore.
Calming down, he repaired for what was probably going top be a very emotional experience.