𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍° ! percy jackson

𝐢.𝐱𝐯𝐢 - 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. (𝐩)

Percy would love to tell you that he had some deep revelation on his brink of death, that he came to terms with his own mortality, laughed in the face of death, et cetera. But the truth was, he kind of rolled over and thought a series of curse words as he plummeted to his death, regretting every single decision he had made to get him to where he was, wishing nothing but safety for Aurora Miller. 

So, he wasn't exactly planning on jumping. That was the whole reason he pushed Aurora off the ledge. Gods, that sounded horrible. But his last sane, coherent thought before he plummeted was: I have to save Aurora. And he was willing to do that, no matter what. And he was willing to save her (by pushing her off the ledge), even if it meant sacrificing himself, letting the Chimera rip him to shreds. As long as Aurora wasn't near the monster. She had had enough of those for a lifetime. 

But, he still jumped. The Chimera forced him to, with a side of Echidna's manipulation. Fuck, he thought. If I knew I would have to do this, I would've done it with Aurora. Maybe he could've hugged her again. Who knows? He doubted he would ever get close to her after what he did.

Percy shut his eyes, blocking out the steeples and skyscrapers and bridges surrounding him, finally praying to his dad. Dad, Poseidon. Don't save me. If you have the chance, save Aurora. She's the one who should live.

He wouldn't have pushed her if he didn't know it would be safe, that she would survive. And somewhere in his gut, he knew she would be safe. If it was the gods, if it was his delusion, Aurora was safe. She had to be.

Poseidon probably didn't hear Percy's prayers very correctly, but as soon as the wind ripped open Percy's eyeballs—which were dry and brittle from, you know, falling—he saw a blur of a girl.

His heart dropped.

It was Aurora.

He wanted to open his mouth and scream, but the wind was too harsh, so he did the best he could do: reach out his hand as far as possible and hope that Aurora found him.

And she did.

Hand in hand, the two demigods splashed into the Mississippi River. There was a whiteout of bubbles, and the two settled on the river bottom soundlessly, with Percy's incessant prayers for the girl to be okay. 

Percy realized quickly that Aurora could breathe underwater. She wasn't wet, despite being underwater, and her strawberry blonde hair was floating around her like a goddess.

He quickly realized after that she was fucking livid.

He didn't exactly blame her.

(And then he realized that he too could breathe and wasn't wet and the poison that he felt not even two seconds ago was completely gone. But he wasn't exactly focused on that, and instead at the fuming girl in front of him).

Percy shouldn't have been alive. The fact that he wasn't seemed like... well, a miracle.

The bubble of miraculousness popped at the enraged voice of none other than the girl he was deathly afraid of.

"Perseus fucking Jackson." Aurora was the most angry he'd ever seen her—and trust him, he had made her plenty angry before—her fists clenched so tightly that it looked like she was winding up to punch him. "You did not just push me off the motherfucking St. Louis Arch."

Hearing the words was like a punch in the gut, and hurt even more than him actually doing it. Percy swallowed thickly. He felt tears prick his eyes, but he would rather die than cry in front of Aurora. Guilt gnawed at his insides like a relentless predator, tearing away at his sanity. He could hear the whispered condemnations and feel the accusatory glances from inside of his body. No amount of apologies or remorse could ever—