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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 316: A Knight and Maiden
🕑 Added 2025-08-03 15:07:42 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
‘Lady Hecate… I pray for your assistance…’
(“I’m looking over your situation, and I already have a good sense of what you're about to attempt… Lucian, are you absolutely certain this is what you want to do?”) Hecate asked solemnly, her tone weighed with growing concern.
‘Yes,’ Lucian replied without an ounce of hesitation. His inner voice carried a quiet intensity—Firm, and deeply resolved.
(“Lucian…”) Hecate’s voice hardened, more urgent now. (“You do realize you could die if you aren’t careful. This isn’t just dangerous—it’s suicidal.”)
‘I’ve met Death before,’ Lucian said bluntly, his eyes darkening with grim experience. ‘He doesn’t scare me. So, are you going to help me, or are we going to keep wasting time?’
Hecate sighed audibly, her frustration evident. She clicked her tongue sharply. (“Fine. If you’re so eager to throw your life away, who am I to stop you? Go ahead, die for your hero complex. And when you meet your father, tell him I had nothing to do with this. You reckless, stubborn bastard.”)
Lucian smirked at her response, the corner of his lip twitching as an incantation suddenly burned itself into his mind. The ancient language echoed in his thoughts, alien yet strangely familiar—as if etched into his very bones.
He heard her soft, confused voice call out as she noticed his sudden silence. “Lucian?”
Lucian slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, compassion swimming in his eyes. “I’m sorry… but I really can’t stand seeing you in pain like this.”
Before she could react, he leaned forward and gently grasped her hand. The contact sparked an unnatural flash of black, heatless energy—an ominous power that surged between them with a ghostly hiss.
“Lucian!!” Hestia and Annabeth shouted in unison, their voices ringing with panic and disbelief.
Hestia flinched violently, trying to rip her hand free, but Lucian’s grip tightened. His other hand shot up and clamped over hers, locking her in place.
“Stop! What are you doing?!” Hestia screamed, horror distorting her usually calm and composed features. “Have you gone completely mad?!”
Thick, dark tendrils of Miasma slithered up Lucian’s arm like vipers, blackening his skin with necrotic corruption. His fingers trembled, but he didn’t flinch.
Lucian’s eyes slid shut.
Then, he began to speak.
Unfamiliar, guttural syllables poured from his mouth—inhuman and dissonant. The words reverberated in the air like sacred thunder. Lucian had no idea what the words meant, or how he even knew how to pronounce them. But they came to him effortlessly, guided by the divine gift Hecate had reluctantly bestowed.
Hestia's eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. She understood every word.
“No…” she whispered, horrified. “That’s… That’s the language of the gods. He’s speaking the forbidden tongue… He’s not supposed to know that language…”
Annabeth couldn’t decipher the words, but she understood what was happening all too well. Her eyes were locked on Hestia’s body as the black veins crawling across her skin began to recede, sucked away from her core and flowing into Lucian’s arms like an inverse infection. He was absorbing the Miasma—drawing it into himself like a living conduit.
“Lucian, stop it!!” Hestia screamed. “I command you—stop it right now!! Listen to me for once, please!! You’re going to die! I’m a goddess—I can take it! You’re just a mortal!”
She struggled against him, trying to yank her arm back with divine strength. But Lucian’s body—infused with the blessings of Heracles—held fast like stone.
“Please!!” she cried out, her voice breaking with desperation. “Lucian, listen to me! Don’t do this!!”
Lucian’s skin was now ghost-pale. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow. His breathing turned ragged, each breath labored and shallow. His shadow on the ground twisted and stretched unnaturally, curling around him. Then, it split open into a maw—and his voice echoed again, this time from the shadow itself.
“I’m sorry…” Lucian’s voice rasped solemnly. “But this is my decision to make. I’ve never been very good at listening… So forgive me, little auntie, for being such a disobedient nephew.”
The demigods nearby turned toward the spectacle, confusion painted across their faces.
A flash of lightning struck nearby—Thalia arrived in a blur, her boots skidding across the ground. “What the hell is going on?! What crazy thing is Lucian doing this time?!”
Bianca and Nico emerged from the shadows beside Lucian, both wide-eyed with horror. Markus sprinted toward them, his jaw clenched in concern. All three froze when they saw him—Lucian’s body looked like a corpse, drained of all color. His lips were blue. His eyes bloodshot. His veins black.
Annabeth’s jaw was tight as she explained, “Luke poisoned Lady Hestia with Miasma from the abyss. It’s a toxin so vile it corrupts even immortals. Lucian… he couldn’t bear to see her suffer. So he’s pulling it into himself instead.”
“What?!” Thalia gasped, her stomach churning.
The others turned toward Lucian in horror, their minds reeling from the sheer insanity of what he was doing.
Blerg!
A violent spurt of black blood burst from Lucian’s mouth, splattering his chin and staining his shirt. His head swayed slightly as his knees buckled, weakened. Deep bags lined his eyes. He looked utterly spent—like the life was being ripped out of him inch by inch.
And yet… he didn’t stop.
He just kept chanting.
Everyone instinctively backed away from Thalia as electricity burst and cracked around her uncontrollably, arcs of lightning exploding from her skin in every direction. The air itself seemed to warp around her presence as her power surged, raw and uncontained. The skies above darkened ominously, thunder growling in the heavens.
Thalia’s eyes glowed with sheer power—no longer just reflecting light, but emitting it—pulsing with white-hot electricity. Bolts shot from the corners of her eyes.
Her fists clenched as she crouched low to the ground, her boots digging into the dirt. Then, like a cannon shot, she rocketed upward, leaving a scorched crater where she’d stood.
“LUKEEEE!!!” Thalia roared with the full fury of Olympus behind her voice.
Her cry echoed across the heavens, answered by the storm as it raged in full. Thunder rolled and clouds churned violently as a pillar of lightning struck downward from the clouds and coalesced into her outstretched hands. It twisted and solidified—crackling, flaring—until it formed a solid, glowing thunderbolt, radiating with energy.
Down below, Luke lay sprawled across the battlefield, his body broken and bloodied, barely holding himself up. His limbs uselessly, thrown everywhere. His vision blurred with pain and blood.
When he looked up, through a haze of agony, Thalia wasn’t just a figure—she was a force of nature. With lightning dancing wildly around her form and a thunderbolt raised high, she looked like Zeus incarnate descending from the skies to pass judgment.
Thalia screamed, hurling the bolt with a fury. It shrieked through the air, the sound piercing and unrelenting. The force of it alone bent the clouds around its path.
Luke gritted his teeth, his body screaming in protest as he concentrated. Lightning arced across his form as the bolt approached, crawling over his skin like fire ants.
Then—just before it struck—he vanished.
BOOOOOOOM!!!
The ground exploded in a blinding white flash. Everyone instinctively shielded their eyes as the light consumed the battlefield. The earth beneath them shook violently from the impact, and then came the sound—a sonic boom so loud and thunderous it nearly shattered their eardrums.
When the light faded, all that was left was a scorched crater where Luke had once been.
Thalia landed on the blackened earth, smoke curling from the ground beneath her boots, her fists trembling with rage. Her face twisted into a snarl. “Damn it!! That slippery bastard!!”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Lucian knelt in place. The last tendrils of Miasma slithered from Hestia’s body, coiling like dark mist into his hands before vanishing.
Hestia stood frozen, her hand still outstretched, her lips trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at him.
“Why, Lucian…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible through the crackling silence that remained after Thalia’s fury. “Why did you do this? I could have endured it… even if it took a decade. There was no need for you to throw your life away…”
Lucian looked up at her, his eyes soft despite the black blood staining his mouth and chin. His skin was deathly pale, but his smile was gentle—warm, even through the pain.
“You’re my little auntie,” he murmured. “Like any good nephew… I don’t like seeing you in pain. You’re far too precious to suffer. Even if you could have dealt with it in a week or a decade—it doesn’t matter. If I had to make the choice again, I’d still do the same thing.”
His voice broke into a weak laugh, followed by a violent cough that left flecks of black blood on the ground.
“This isn’t a laughing matter, Lucian!!” Hestia snapped, her voice cracking as she furiously wiped the tears from her eyes.
Lucian coughed again, but the smile on his lips didn’t fade. “Sorry… I just couldn’t help but think how poetic all this is…”
As he spoke, black armor began to re-form around his frame, growing like living shadow across his arms and chest. His whitened and corrupted skin was hidden beneath plates of obsidian. His crimson cape flared out behind him, rippling despite the still air. His helm rose to meet his face, locking into place like a knight preparing for war.
He knelt upright despite his trembling frame.
“You are a Maiden,” Lucian said softly, his voice muffled slightly by the helm. “And I… am a Knight.”
He reached out and gently took her hand, now gloved in his armored one. There was tenderness in his gesture—a devotion deeper than words.
“A Knight’s duty is to protect the Maiden from all harm. And so…” he bowed his head reverently, lowering his forehead to the back of her hand.
“I will be more than happy to carry your pain as my curse, if it means you never have to feel it again.”
It was an image carved in time—a solemn vow between mortal and goddess. A knight pledging his soul to a maiden, not for glory, not for reward, but out of love.
And Hestia could only stand there, tears falling freely, her heart breaking at the sight of the boy who would sacrifice everything just to spare her pain.
Comments
ItsDragonking
yeah bullshit just kill him
Alexander Pearce
I like it do it
Bryan Vargas
No I didn't?
firerock laser
You misspelled son of hades
Bryan Vargas
At this point I just might, I didn't expect the chemistry between them to be so strong
Kal Odinson
Please add hestia to the harem
