Percy Jackson. Hero of Olympus and Leader of Demigods. The Legend of Camp Half-Blood. Everyone in camp knew him. Hushed whispers surrounded new campers and old campers recounted stories of his various quests around the campfire. Rumours of his powers floated around camp, no one confirming nor denying any. Stories for what happened in Tartarus and theories of the extent of his powers surrounded him. No one had to look for long to see that he was powerful.
Tense shoulders and a constant grip around his pen confirmed it. His body constantly ready for any attack, eyes constantly scanning for the next danger. Mouth set in a grim line, the harsh angles of his face illuminated by his piercing eyes. His mesmerising sea-green eyes reflecting the power of the sea, churning and ready to drown those who dared to oppose the might of the ocean. Eyes that saw too much, haunted by the memories of his many victories and the lives of friends he lost. Death was a close friend of his.
During the weekly games for Capture the Flags, the cabins opposing him sighed, knowing the experience and strength of him. They dreaded fighting him, knowing it would take several of them to keep him controlled. But the sea does not like being controlled. He was quick on his feet, incapacitating his enemies fluidly as though he was dancing. His eyes glowed as he used his power, the power running through his veins thrumming as he manipulated the water to his will. Keep him away from the water, the campers would whisper. Resistance was futile. He succeeded anyway.
Those who saw him train whispered reverently of his skill and speed. Slashing and ducking, he was a speed demon, cutting through the dummies like they were made of paper. No one except the Seven and Nico volunteered to spar against him, knowing that his swordsmanship was unparalleled. And when they did, sparks flew. Whirling around each other, the harsh clanging of the metal ringing out as they collided with each other. Laboured breathing and harsh pants filled the air as it charged with energy. But no one was a match for him. He would always emerge victorious.
And so Percy Jackson was feared and respected in Camp Half-Blood. The rumours surrounding him neither confirmed nor denied. The most powerful demigod to ever live. But his friends and family knew the real Percy Jackson. The one who excitedly ate blue cookies and adopted a hellhound. The one who loved Annabeth and was fiercely loyal to his loved one; almost to a fault. The one who grieved for his lost friends and would bear the scars of his adventures forever. And he would become a legend for the next generation to look up. To admire and learn. This was Perseus Jackson.