I am obsessed with Percy Jackson right now. I blame Uncle Rick and the recent release of Mark of Athena

I am also obsessed with Rise of the Guardians, for which I blame Tumblr, Dreamworks SKG and William Joyce.

Obviously, there was nothing else to do but write crossover fan fiction. As that seems to be what I do now. This one is thankfully shorter than my mammoth project that is the Lumos Angelous 'verse. This story ignores Heroes of Olympus entirely.

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Rise of the Guardians and any of their collective references. They belong to whoever holds the copyright. As I still struggle with student loans, that can't possibly be me. Once again, I am just a guest in the sandbox of legends.

When he comes around, it is a slow thing. Beams of light curl around his ankles, pulling him through the rocks to the surface. He awakens on top of the boulders in the full moon's light, unfurling his wings to stretch them out, like a newborn.

Wings, he thinks, I didn't have those before.

And they are magnificent, though he has no basis for comparision. Shaped like a bird's, yet iridescent, as though made from starlight, ever shifting and lighter than a butterfly's. They are blue, all the shades of blue that paint the Earth at once and individually. This makes him happy, though he has no idea why.

But he thinks Blue is the color of happiness.

He stands and stretches. Looks down and around ready to take to the sky, when he stops.

The sky is dangerous for him.

As soon as the thought occurs, he thinks it is ridiculous, why give him wings if not to fly?

Up, up he goes. Past the clouds, into the stars and right up to the Moon. The Moon is different than he knows it, he thinks, but asks "Who am I?"

The Moon doesn't answer right away. He senses it likes him, adores him, this Moon he doesn't know, that is different than the one he does. But it isn't sure how to answer. That's fine, he can wait, and the world is a spectacular place for this new him. He flits above the clouds and chases shooting stars for a while. It will keep him safe.

Finally, the moon answers.

Persefs Olympos.

He blinks. The name is familiar but not, yet it is who he is. And it is his name, this Moon will not lie to him, he knows.

"What am I for?"

The silence is longer this time. He still doesn't mind.

You are for protecting. Children. Special Children.

He nods. He knows and he doesn't know, who these special ones are, but they need him. A Guardian. The title fits him, somehow it is who he has always been. The Moon will not answer more questions, but tells him one more thing.

Find the Grandmothers Who Spin.

For anyone else, that wouldn't make sense. But to him, it seems logical. He flies off into the night, questing for these Ladies.

I am a terrible person. You'll see why soon.