Chapter Text
“Come on, Bruce…”
“No, Percy. What you did was dangerous. What would you have done if the fire had gotten out of control? Or if somebody from Black Mask’s gang had seen you? Do you know what these people are capable of?” Bruce thundered as he paced through his study, Percy sitting in a chair before him with a clearly guilty but defiant expression.
“Leo knew what he was doing, and I made sure that nobody could see us,” he tried to protest.
“You can’t know that! Only one witness or one camera would have been enough. You’re already part of the Wayne family, which puts a target on you. Percy, I don’t scold you because I’m bored. I do it because I’m terrified of what could happen to you.”
Percy regretted his actions very much at that moment, not because of the danger, but because he had worried his family so much. It wasn’t their fault that they didn’t know the amount of control he and Leo had over the situation. And maybe they had carried it a little too far.
“Look, Percy, I know you’re seventeen, so I can’t and don’t want to give you much punishment. But I think it would be beneficial for you to stay in the house for the foreseeable future and think about your actions.”
While Percy scowled at first, he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression. He didn’t like being restrained, a trait inherited from his father, but he could endure it for the sake of his family’s peace of mind.
After agreeing with Bruce, he retreated from the study.
The next few days bored Percy to death. Aside from video games and talks with his cousins or friends from Camp, there was little to occupy him. An enthusiastic Dick had tried to get him to read a book, but a scathing glare from Percy reminded him that the grounded teen had dyslexia.
Percy was just strolling aimlessly through the halls, looking at the paintings and antique relics that lined Wayne Manor, when the bell rang. Not being too far away, he decided to answer it. Alfred would surely know that he didn’t need to open the door himself.
Before the door had the chance to open completely, Percy was already closing it again.
“Go away,” he told the muscular woman standing before him. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Oh, I don’t—” she tried to say.
“Oh, please don’t try to trick me. I know what you are, even if you clearly tried to conceal yourself.”
He had to give it to her; she was actually wearing modern mortal clothes that helped her blend in. Not that Percy was limited to mortal senses when identifying her.
The woman raised her hands appeasingly. “I think you’re confusing me with someone. I’m not a postwoman.”
Percy groaned. She couldn’t be serious.
“Look, I know that Queen Hylla has gotten the Imperial Order to leave me in peace until my birthday. I don’t care how big or small her problem is. I don’t do quests right now.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish—which was honestly a bad comparison. Fish did that on purpose and didn’t look dumb while doing it. They looked graceful.
“What? Which Imperial Order?”
Percy narrowed his eyes. Was he wrong? No, definitely not. That meant—
“Themysciran or Bana-Mighdall?” he asked, switching to Ancient Greek.
“Themy—”
She snapped her mouth shut, her posture slowly shifting into something more defensive as she heard the language of her homeland.
“Who are you?”
“Who am I? As if you don’t know, Amazon,” Percy snapped right back.
“You speak the Ancient Tongue. You’re a half-blood,” came the shocked answer.
Did she really not know him?
“Yeah, oblivious. And additionally, I’m someone who holds multiple Imperial and Divine Orders of Protection, so if you don’t want to get smitten by half a dozen gods, you’ll stay out of my business.”
He uncurled every bit of divine aura he possessed, flexing every title he had managed to amass since first killing the Minotaur. The Amazon before him shuddered and began to curl inward as the pressure of Little-Prince-of-the-Deep and Bearer-of-the-Sky pressed down on her.
Then he folded his aura back in, allowing her to breathe.
“Oh, by Zeus,” she cursed faintly. “You’re Perseus Jackson.”
“So you’ve heard of me.” Percy smirked. Outside of life-and-death situations, it was always funny to flex his reputation.
“Strongest demigod since the heroes of old, respected and feared by monsters and gods alike,” she whispered before bowing her head slightly. “I am sorry, young prince. I wasn’t aware that this was your current residence. I was invited to a meeting with Bruce Wayne.”
Oh no.
Percy knew how Amazons treated men, and Bruce was far too much of a sweetheart for that. He didn’t want history to repeat itself. Bruce’s love life already seemed to be a tragedy, with so many children running around with dead mothers—or, in Damian’s case, a neglectful one.
No, Bruce didn’t need an Amazon in his vicinity.
His fingers drifted toward his trouser pockets as he slowly shifted one foot back for better balance.
A fact the Amazon noticed.
“I’m a historian for a museum, and Bruce is one of our main sponsors. We want to open a new section, and we need his input.”
Okay, that seemed reasonable and pretty on point for Bruce.
“If you try to put one foot out of line, I will not only beat you up, but also find a way to Themyscira and beat up your sisters.”
“I swear, it is strictly professional.”
He let her scurry past him. When she was nearly around the next corner, he spoke up again.
“Amazon, Bruce doesn’t know about the divine world. Don’t you dare drag him into it. I’m watching you.”
“…and John is already prepared to sort out everything pertaining to the Nightingale Dynasty among the artifacts. We will only need—”
Bruce and Diana were discussing the silent takeover of cursed relics belonging to an ancient undead monarch that their informants had managed to locate. Sadly, the location of the find had become public, and the Justice League hadn’t had the chance to secure the treasure before someone reported on it.
Now they were forced to secretly filter out all the dangerous artifacts while allowing the harmless ones to enter public collections. Luckily, Diana’s museum was the perfect place for that.
They had met to iron out the details of the transfer, something that was normally quick and straightforward. They had even chosen to meet at Wayne Manor, as it was more informal than the Watchtower, and Bruce had hoped to catch up with his old friend.
But it seemed that today was not the day for it.
Diana had been a little pale when he welcomed her, and her behavior had been slightly off. She was skittish and regularly lost track of their conversation, glancing past him through the doors as if expecting something to appear.
What didn’t help was that Percy kept popping in on them unusually often. They had initially used the dining room because of its homey atmosphere, but eventually they had relocated to Bruce’s study in order to have some privacy. As long as their investigation wasn’t completed, they couldn’t risk their nightlife becoming known. The knowledge was simply too dangerous.
As they finally finished, Bruce leaned back in his chair, stretching and popping several joints.
“Ah, finally. You know, I think I’m beginning to feel my age. But please don’t tell the others I said that,” he joked.
“May I ask about your newest charge?” Diana interrupted.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. That was a little unusual for the normally polite Diana.
“Perseus ‘Percy’ Jackson, a cousin of mine. His mother died a few months ago, and aside from Percy, nobody knows who his father is. He isn’t willing to divulge that information, so I’ve decided to take him in until he reaches adulthood. We haven’t brought him into the family secret, and we’d like to leave it that way for now.”
He wasn’t ready to bring the Justice League into his investigation. Kaldur and possibly other Atlanteans were compromised, and they couldn’t risk information being leaked.
“I see, and…”
At that moment, as if summoned by the mention of his name, there was a knock at the door. It opened almost immediately, and Percy walked in carrying a tray loaded with beverages.
“Hey, you’ve been in here so long that I thought I’d bring you something to drink,” he said, sounding like the sweet boy he was.
“Thank you, Percy. My throat was truly becoming a little dry. But you didn’t have to do that. We could have easily gotten something ourselves.”
“Pff, Uncle, it’s really nothing. I have a hand for it. And if you need more fluids, I always have ways to bring you more.”
A strange choice of words, but Bruce had long ago given up trying to understand modern youth slang. The first time he had met Bart had truly sealed that decision.
His thoughts were interrupted as Diana practically sprang from her seat and began hurriedly packing up her things.
“You know what, Bruce? A task came up shortly before I arrived here. Let’s talk another time.”
Before he could answer, Diana had already swept out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Bruce simply stared at the door with wide eyes.
“How impolite. Uncle, don’t let it get you down. Surely she just had a bad day…”