Chapter Text
Olympus towered around Annabeth like a dream of white columns, arches, laurels and gauze. Everything seemed suspended in a slow breeze, from fabric to leaves even to the graceful movements of gods and nymphs. Crystalline cheer chimed through the party. From the amphitheater, the Muses didn’t so much as play a song as they did weave a stunning tapestry of music to blanket the crowd. Even the winter sun glowed brighter here, as if the silvery-white rays wished to be party guests themselves, sparkling and bending around divine figures like lovers.
The whole landscape was a masterclass in open-air architecture. The perfect blend of grandiose without being too gaudy, regal without being too stifling. The landscape where the party was held perfectly balanced greenery to marble. And it amplified the music from the amphitheater so well in the process. On a better day, Annabeth could spend hours soaking it all in.
But she wasn’t in the mood to party. She was exhausted down to her bones. All the gaudy partying felt so superficial when an hour ago, the council of the gods almost voted to kill them. Hours before that, the sky almost crashed to the earth. Not even a full day ago, Atlas almost crushed them all, winning Kronos the war. But none of that happened. Because Percy.
She needed to talk to Percy.
Gods, Annabeth was on Olympus and all she could think about was that stupid blonde white boy. She was amongst divine architecture and she couldn’t bother to think twice about it until she could find him in the crowd. If she stopped to consider anything else, if she paused to process everything that had happened to her this past week, she would collapse. Her need to see him was the crutch keeping her upright.
She’d barely gotten to talk to him since he rescued her. First, the battle, then Percy held up the sky. On the trip to Olympus, Percy had slept almost the whole way. The exhaustion of the sky got to him, but the deep purple haunting his eyebags made her worry there was something more at play. Had he slept at all while Luke had her? Something told her no.
But she had to talk to him now that they were both conscious and otherwise unimpeded. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. That she wanted to stay by his side? That she cared for him more than anyone else in her life? She wasn’t sure. She just needed to see him. A tension pulled her body to his like a magnet held just apart from its opposite, desperately reaching for the other with every fibre of her being.
Last she’d seen him, Poseidon was pulling him away to talk. The two vanished into the crowd and Annabeth hadn’t spotted him since. Annabeth scanned the crowd for the mess of blond curls that crowned his gangly body, but unlike at camp, Percy’s height didn’t make him easier to spot amongst gods.
The party was a chaotic sprawl of creatures and deities. All the chaos made Annabeth want to retreat to a secluded garden somewhere, but her determination to talk to Percy spurred her forward. She wove through the crowd.
Satyrs danced and skipped, splashing goblets of wine and nectar onto shirts and shaggy hindquarters.
Aurai, wind spirits with beautiful flowing hair, flew overhead, reaching down to tease the drunken satyrs.
Countless minor gods adorned in flowing greek garments and golden embellishments mingled and danced.
At the center of the revelry was Dionysus. Perhaps that should be unsurprising, but Annabeth did a double take at the grin on the camp director’s face. He held a diet coke in one hand, and with his other, he twirled a gorgeous woman crowned in a gold circlet etched with leaves. Ariadne, his wife, if Annabeth had to guess by the loving way he looked at her as the pair danced.
Apollo was also on the dance floor. He was surrounded by dryads, whom he was trying to woo with god-awful poetry. The dryads skipped around him, staying just shy of his touch and giggling all the while. Annabeth got the impression they were way more interested in playing with Apollo than they were in the god himself.
Aphrodite had dragged Ares out to dance and was twisting her body in sultry, graceful ways around his. Ares’s dancing was stiff as a board and his cheeks were tinged with red.
Off to one side, Demeter oversaw the banquet table, fussing for everyone to take another pastry.
Hermes was lurking near the banquet table. He didn’t appear to be enjoying the party any more than Annabeth was. He was on his phone, frowning tightly. Annabeth could guess why. But she didn’t really want to think about Luke right now.
Tucked away in the shade under a tree away from the party, Artemis and Thalia talked in hushed tones.
So many glowing bodies and glinting gold spun around Annabeth, weaving a net of overwhelm that ensnared her. But she pushed through all of them, looking for Percy. She cupped her hands over her lips and called for him a few times, but her call was swallowed by the music and laughter. All the sound grated on her nerves. She spun around a few times. When she made a full three-sixty, her eyes landed a tall, imposing figure that hadn’t been there mere seconds ago.
“Athena,” she squeaked. Hot embarrassment flushed her cheeks. “Mother,” she corrected herself in a tone more befitting of greeting her superior.
Athena’s cold grey eyes gazed down at Annabeth. Annabeth wanted to shrink beneath her stare, so she forced herself to stand a little taller, shoulders back.
The revellers around them gave them some space. Satyrs and minor gods alike cast fearful glances at the goddess of war in all her armoured glory.
Annabeth had only seen her mother six times in her life. Seven, if she counted the siren vision last summer, but Annabeth didn’t. The first time was when Athena appeared in a dream when she was eight and gifted Annabeth her invisibility hat. Beyond that, she’d seen her mother from a distance whenever Camp Half-Blood visited Mount Olympus for the winter solstice.
Annabeth swallowed back the fear. A sudden surge of desperation paralyzed her.
“Annabeth,” Athena greeted. “You have done well.”
Annabeth didn’t mean to express her shock, but her eyebrows shot up before she could stop them. “I have?”
Athena smiled, though it was thin, as though the smile tasted bitter on her tongue. “Few can withstand Atlas's burden, especially as long as you did. I am impressed. I will not forget this feat easily.”
Annabeth’s heart soared and elation sang in her bloodstream. “Thank you.”
“However.”
Annabeth’s heart stopped and her blood ran cold.
“I do not approve of this attachment you seem to hold for Posiedon’s offspring.” Athena spoke of Percy like he was a worm who had the audacity to appear on the sidewalk where she stepped.
“I don’t– I’m not–” Could Annabeth even lie to the goddess of wisdom? She shut up before she made anything worse.
Athena gave her a withering stare. “You thought my counsel was cruel, earlier. You protested when I voted to kill him. Did you not?”
“I did,” Annabeth admitted.
“Any child of mine should understand why killing him is the wisest move. I’m disappointed you’ve chosen to defend him. The strength you demonstrated in Atlas’s cavern was befitting of a child of war, but the strategy you’ve chosen in befriending Perseus Jackson is not befitting of a child of mine. That boy is a danger to us all. When the time comes, he will have to choose to save or destroy Olympus. But the truth is that it will not be his choice to make. It will be yours. His fatal flaw has already made the choice for him. If you choose to stay by his side, he will choose you over Olympus. If you leave him, you save us all. I know you are smart, Annabeth. Make the correct choice.”
“I disagree.”
The words left Annabeth’s mouth before she could think twice about it, and she immediately blanched. Athena’s gaze turned brutally sharp. Annabeth was walking on a knife’s edge and she knew it–if she backed down, Athena would lose all respect for her, but if she finished her argument, her mother might respect her guts, but disown her anyway. Annabeth went with the braver option, even if her heart was hammering so hard she thought she might choke on it.
Everything she’d thought about in the caverns while holding the sky and talking to Artemis came flooding back. Now was the time to stand by her decision.
“Percy’s fatal flaw doesn’t make him weak. It might make him dangerous, but it also makes him powerful. If he is loyal to me, he will make the decision I ask of him. I know he will. I am not a threat to Percy. And Percy’s not a threat to me, or you. If we keep basing our strategy on dividing and isolating each other, then we just encourage fighting and war. But if we come together and learn from each other, we are stronger. Percy and I are stronger together. This is how we end the war.”
Athena’s expression was unreadable as she scrutinized Annabeth. Annabeth held her breath, trying to steel her expression into something brave even as her knees trembled.
“Very well. I do not agree, nor do I approve of your relationship with a son of Posiedon, of all demigods. But if you believe this is the best strategy, then I wish you luck. It better not fail, or we are all doomed.”
With that, Athena’s humanoid form shimmered like a mirage. Light bent around her body and swirled into a tight ball, which became the form of an owl flying away. Annabeth watched her mother go, every muscle in her body going weak from fear. Through luck and a lot of willpower, she managed to stay upright.
She just stood up to her mother. Her mother, whose approval had been her primary motivator for as long as she could remember.
At some point in the last two years, Percy had become more important to her than her mother’s approval. That was no small feat. It happened incrementally, a development tucked into the corners of smiles and between shared glances that communicated more than words could. Annabeth’s time alone in the cavern, wishing for Percy, had been the final push.
The realization steeled Annabeth’s resolve. She needed to find him. She needed to talk to him.
Annabeth escaped the throng of mystical beings. She took refuge by the buffet table, where Demeter plopped a flakey pastry in her hand before she could blink.
“You look like you could use some nourishment, honey,” Demeter cooed.
“Thank you…?” Annabeth said, unsure how to receive the comment. She probably did look awful.
Demeter clicked her tongue as she left to serve others, reminding Annabeth of a mother hen. For the first time, Annabeth was a little jealous that the kids in Cabin Four had someone as nurturing as Demeter for a mother. She bit into the sweet pastry, but it didn’t scrub away the bitter taste of the thought.
On her third pastry, the crowd shifted, and she finally spotted a familiar head of blond curls. She shot up, eyes narrowing. Was that…
Yes. Percy.
The crowd shifted a little more and Annabeth caught a flash of regal silver armor. Her blood ran cold yet again. Athena. What was her mother doing talking to Percy? Annabeth couldn’t imagine it was anything good.
They were on the edge of the crowd across the pavilion. Annabeth finished her pastry in two bites and began to make her way over. She ducked around dancing satyrs and under aurai. She considered using her invisibility cap to approach, now that she had it back, so as not to interrupt. But as she got closer, Athena was already turning away. Athena caught sight of Annabeth, and a solemn fire of disapproval lit her gaze.
Annabeth swallowed and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Mother.”
Athena didn’t deign to respond. She vanished into the crowd, leaving Annabeth with Percy.
The party was bursting with revelers, but in the moment they made eye contact, the world narrowed down to just Annabeth, Percy, and the gaping space between them.
Gods, there he was. Finally.
Percy froze, eyes widening. There was something implacable in his expression, something between hope, wonder, and relief. Annabeth could only imagine hers looked the same. Golden sunlight set his curls alight with a god-like glow. His jacket was dirty and in tatters but all she could think was that he looked beautiful. Just a little inhumane, like his divine blood shining through, or maybe that was just Annabeth’s imagination.
The music muffled. The thread of time frayed until the moment felt delicate, drawn so taught that the barest movement would cause it to snap.
Annabeth wasn’t sure who took the first step. Nor did she care. Because seconds later, she crashed into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as her sore muscles could manage. He hugged her back like he wasn’t planning on ever letting her go again. She tucked her cheek against his chest and his chin rested atop her head. She sighed softly into the wave of safety washing over her. She sank into him, swallowed by his embrace.
For once, the fates must have been feeling generous because time lost all meaning. The only thing punctuating the passing seconds was the rapid thump of Percy’s heart beat against her ear.
After not nearly long enough, Annabeth was the first to pull away. Percy’s arms slackened their grip but they didn’t quite let go. His fingers knitted behind her back, resting right above the center of her spine. On any other day, Annabeth might feel trapped by the prolonged contact, but after everything that had transpired this week, she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all. She was right where she wanted to be.
Percy studied her intently, gaze carefully caressing every inch of her face. Most of her scrapes and bruises had healed with some ambrosia already, but she wondered if Percy could see the ghosts of her wounds haunting her skin.
She studied him too. She watched him watch her, watched the emotions flashing behind his aquamarine eyes. He was paler than usual. Annabeth wasn’t sure if that was the effect of winter or stress. Though the faint purple bruising under his eyes was definitely from stress. There was a cut on his lower lip left half-healed by ambrosia, the thin line a deep, raw pink. But the most notable difference was the streak of gray shot through those blond curls she loved so much.
Annabeth had spent an entire life thinking. She thought and rethought and overthought and now she was tired of thinking. So she didn’t bother to think now. She let her body and heart lead for once.
Her hand drifted up to his hair. He bowed his head a little for her, seemingly in reflex. She twirled the gray curl around her finger as gently as she could. His hair was surprisingly soft. She wasn’t sure why that shocked her. She’d never touched it before. She swallowed, suddenly self-conscious, and dropped her hand.
“We match,” Percy said softly, a tentative smile on his lips. His eyes flicked to her hair, where one of the braids was gray too. One of his hands let go of her back and drifted towards her hair, but he hesitated. He didn’t touch her.
Annabeth wasn’t sure why he looked a little scared. She wasn’t sure why her heart was fluttering so fiercely.
“Yeah. I guess we do.” She didn’t have the mental space to care that her words came out so breathy.
“Are you okay?” Percy asked, and she knew he wasn’t just referring to her present inability to function.
Annabeth broke eye contact, looking down at the stripes on his shirt instead. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to look that intense and gentle at the same time, but Percy was well versed in impossibility.
“I will be.” It was the simplest and most truthful answer she could give him right now.
He nodded to himself, placated.
Somehow, the lack of words between them was unbearable. Annabeth feared Percy’s words sometimes, as he was prone to say just the right thing to paralyze her. But without them, they communicated through looks and all the touches they did or didn’t give. What little space was left between them was electric with everything they weren’t saying.
“So. What did my mother want with you?”
Percy’s expression soured. “The usual I’ve come to expect from gods who don’t like me. Warnings about how I’m a danger to myself and others.” He glanced down at her, and a small smirk lit his lips. “She also warned me away from you. I get the sense she doesn’t approve of us.”
Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat on us. They were an us now. But of course they were. That’s what happened when you saved each other’s lives multiple times. Us wasn’t a big deal. She was being stupid. She couldn’t afford to be stupid with Athena waiting for one of them to screw up. So she decided to ignore the us and the implications it didn’t have.
She matched his lopsided smile. “You know, I got that impression too. What a coincidence.”
“Should we give each other some space, then? You never know when she’s watching,” Percy suggested. His tone was teasing, but his eyes awaited her response with sincerity. She knew that if she asked him to back off to save her reputation with her mother, he would without question.
But she didn’t really care about that right now. She wanted to stay right where she was in his arms for a little longer.
“She’s a goddess; she’s survived worse. She’ll survive this too. Plus, you still owe me a dance, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth poked his chest.
Percy grinned. “I guess I do. Shall we?” His hands, which had still been resting featherlight against her spine, settled on either side of her waist. He was always a fast learner. She chose to ignore the shiver that caressed her spine at the steadiness of his hands on her waist.
Instead of resting her hands on his shoulders, she looped them around his neck. “We shall. But if you step on my toes, I will kill you.”
Percy laughed. Oh how she’d missed that sound.
Unlike their first dance, Percy wasn’t nearly as awkward. Either he’d had practice, or he simply didn’t care about being this close to Annabeth anymore. He didn’t maintain a canyon of space between them. He was still clumsy, but he managed not to crush her toes as they stepped side to side, swaying with the rhythm of the Muse’s music.
Eventually, they wandered away from the dance, exhaustion slipping over both of them soft as a sigh. They found a large fountain tucked around a corner that was overshadowed by a massive willow tree. The music and sounds of the Olympian festivities were muted here. The twinkling tinkle of the fountain and the soft rustle of leaves decorated the soundscape instead.
The whole time dancing and then walking away from the party, they never broke contact. They seemed to have made a silent agreement that their mutual lifeline lay in holding each other’s hand. Annabeth was grateful. Percy’s hand was warm and a little calloused, but so gentle in hers.
They sat on the wide rim of the fountain. Annabeth’s posture slouched–not something she usually did. But her shoulders still ached from holding up the sky. There was only so much ambrosia could do. Her bones may have knitted back together, but they still carried the memory. The trauma.
Percy was similarly limp beside her. His eyebags looked more pronounced in the shade of the willow tree. He chewed at the half-healed split on his lip absentmindedly, and then winced when his teeth drew blood.
“Hey,” Annabeth chided, words no more than a whisper. “Stop that.”
Without thinking, she pulled her hand from his and dipped it into the fountain pool. She brought her wet fore-finger and thumb up and painted the droplets of water over his lower lip. She’d meant to do it quickly, but her thumb lingered just past the cut. She’d never felt someone else’s lips before. She was surprised by how soft they were, how easily he gave into her touch.
Percy stilled as if he was another marble statue decorating the fountain. His eyes widened, but she didn’t look at him. She stared intently at his lips like this was nothing but an experiment.
Sure enough, the moment the fountain water touched the cut on his lip, it began to heal over. The droplet of blood washed away, and raw red skin turned pink as skin knitted back over.
It was miraculous. He was miraculous.
She should probably pull her hand away, she realized very delayed. It dropped to her lap quickly. She stared at her wet hand in her lap, cheeks burning.
“Thanks,” Percy breathed more than said. She could feel his wide eyes watching her. She swallowed and nodded.
“Of course. You were bleeding.”
“How are you feeling?” Percy asked.
“Fine,” Annabeth said reflexively.
Percy just raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I doubt that. You held up the sky a lot longer than me. You can be honest. You know I’m not gonna judge you or anything like that.”
She glanced up at him quizzically. “How did you know?”
“I…may have dreamt about you. A lot. The demigod kinda dreams where you know it's a vision. I saw you holding up the sky for the first two nights you were missing. It’s how I knew you were alive. And plus…” his eyes drifted towards the gray shot through her braids. His hand twitched by his side, and Annabeth could tell he was stopping himself from reaching for it. But strangely, she wanted him to reach for it. She wanted him to touch the gray streak in her hair, to feel this shared mark that bonded them physically as well as spiritually. She wanted that acknowledgement of connection. She bowed her head a little, signifying her permission.
Percy read her easily, and brushed his fingers over her gray braid with a touch so gentle, it sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She didn’t have the mental bandwidth to feel ashamed about the gray when his eyes sparkled with sheer wonder.
She wondered if he felt it too, the way the gray streak ran deeper than just their hair. The strand of trauma ran deep and curled right around her heart, tying her to Percy. To Luke, too. Their shared gray streaks tied them all together like strands of spider silk in a web. The three of them were connected from holding up the sky, an experience unique to only them amongst demigods.
He ran his fingers over the gray braid slowly, and then tucked it behind her ear before pulling away.
These small touches between her and Percy were a lifeline. She craved them more than a body craves water in the sunlight. These little reminders she was here, she survived, he survived, they were fine. Maybe they wouldn’t always be, but she held onto these assurances in the present moment because that’s all she had. And it would have to be enough.
But now, he wasn’t touching her anymore. The space between them gaped. She was always conscious of when they were touching, but she’d never been quite this conscious of when they weren’t. Annabeth had never been much of a physically affectionate person. But now, she wanted his hand on hers to steady her. She wanted his arm around her with a desperation that scared her.
Annabeth pushed it from her mind. There was no chance she was going to reach for him. So she just stared at him, her bruised heart settling at the hollow of her throat.
If Percy noticed anything off, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“Is it weird to say it suits you?” Percy asked.
A crooked smile tugged at Annabeth’s lips. “I dunno. A little?”
Percy shrugged. “Well, it does.”
“Thanks? I like yours too.”
“Thanks. So…are you okay? You never answered the question.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes at his persistence. She was so close to not having to answer. But secretly, his care warmed her heart. “I’ve been worse. My shoulders hurt. I’m sure you can imagine. At least all my scrapes are healed over.”
“I wish I could heal your pain with water the way you did for me,” Percy mused quietly. He stirred the water with his hand. When he pulled away, his hand was dry. “I wish I could take away your pain.”
Annabeth’s heart stumbled and squeezed. Gods, this boy was giving her heart failure at the ripe age of fourteen. “It’s fine,” she promised. “I just need some rest. I could probably sleep for days.”
Percy chuckled at that. “Yeah me too.. I can’t wait to get back home. I miss my bed.”
Annabeth nodded silently, unsure if she could echo the sentiment. What was “her” bed? The one at camp? The one in her dorm room? The one that had been moved to an apartment in San Francisco over the fall?
“How about you? How are you coping after your quest?”
Percy grimaced and shook his head, which was frankly all the response she needed to know.
“Do you want to talk about it? A wise person once told me that things get less scary if you talk about them.”
Percy raised an eyebrow at her. “Wasn’t I the one who said that?”
“Maybe.”
“So you think I’m wise?” He was deflecting, but she didn’t have the heart to be annoyed with that little smile on his lips.
Yes. Impressively so, she thought. “On very rare occasions,” she said.
Percy snorted. “High praise coming from you.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to keep deflecting with humor. Just say so.”
Percy froze. Stared at her. Blinked. He wasn’t expecting the call out, and his surprise gave Annabeth a weird sense of satisfaction. Finally, her turn to surprise him with astute words.
“Okay. Fair enough.” Percy looked down at the water again as he began to speak. “I thought I was used to quests and the whole greek world stuff by now. But I was wrong. This past week…I’ve never gone on a quest without you before. I’ve never gone on a quest where people died. I mean, I thought Tyson and Clarisse died over the summer but that was only for like, a day. They were both fine. But this time…” Percy closed his eyes, wincing. “The whole war thing is starting to feel very real. There are consequences to Luke’s actions. People are dying. More people probably will.”
“Zoë, right? Artemis’s Lieutenant?”
Percy nodded. “And Bianca.”
Annabeth frowned. “The girl from Westover? The one Grover found? She’s, like, twelve! What was she doing on the quest?”
“We were twelve on our first quest,” Percy pointed out, not that it meant much. Twelve was still too young to die. “Zoë wanted to bring her. She died somewhere in New Mexico. It was my fault too. We were being attacked by this giant brass guy. It was my idea to defeat it that led to her sacrificing herself. We spent hours searching for her body after but we never found her. She was just…gone. Just like that.”
Annabeth felt sick. She’d barely known Bianca–she’d just stared at her from across the Westover gym. She fought with her for maybe a minute before she and Dr. Thorn went over the cliff. Even though there was nothing she could’ve done about it, she regretted not knowing the girl better. Her death clearly left a mark on Percy. She’d seen him solemn before, but never quite like this. She’d never seen him so exhausted. So hopeless.
“It’s not your fault,” she promised him, even though she wasn’t there. It just felt like the right thing to say.
“It kind of is though. No matter how you look at it, this whole thing is sorta my responsibility isn’t it? If Thalia’s never gonna turn sixteen, then I’m the one in the Great Prophecy. Which means it's my job to stop all this. All the casualties, they’re kinda on my hands.”
Annabeth shook her head. “No. No they’re not. You can’t think like that, Percy. Her death was the automaton’s fault. Zoë’s death was Atlas’s fault. Full stop.”
Percy frowned, but he gave the barest impression of a nod. She knew it was just to placate her, though. She scooted closer to Percy, but paused before she gave into the overwhelming urge to hug him. Maybe he didn’t want her hug. She stilled herself.
“You know,” Percy continued softly, “for a while, I thought it would be another Tyson and Clarisse situation. Even after we left, I kept waiting for Bianca to appear again. I don’t think it really settled in that she died until Zoë died too.”
“I’m so sorry…”
Percy just shook his head, casting off her apology. “I guess I just have trouble accepting when people are gone. It’s a running theme if you think about it. My mom, Bianca, you…”
“Me?”
Percy half-smiled. “I didn’t believe you were dead for a second. Even after I saw visions of you holding up the sky. Even after the visions stopped. I knew you were alive.”
Annabeth wasn’t at her strongest because of the whole sky thing, but right then, she was quite close to actually melting. Every bone in her body felt like jell-O at the admission. Annabeth wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug him or punch him for making her feel like this.
“Well, good thing you’re stubborn. It’s the reason I’m still alive, you know.” She bumped her shoulder against his, choosing the slightly more violent option.
“You give me too much credit,” Percy said, shaking his head. “Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t cope with Bianca’s death. The day after, we ended up at the Hoover Dam, and we started making all these dam jokes because if we didn’t laugh, I think we’d all start crying–”
It was a solemn moment, talking about death and all, but that didn’t stop Annabeth’s brain from making a record scratch. “Hold up. You went to the Hoover Dam?”
“Uh huh.”
“Without me?”
“Well, in our defense, you were sorta kidnapped. That was kinda the whole reason we ended up there.”
Annabeth groaned. “You know how much I love that place. It’s like, number four on my bucket list of monuments to visit. I can’t believe you visited it without me.”
A slow smile started spreading across his face. “I can see why, too. It’s really cool. All that water. And concrete. I took an elevator down and saw some of the mechanisms and stuff. I didn’t really get the chance to appreciate it though because I was being chased by evil skeletons.” She was happy to hear the teasing levity dripping from his tone once again, even if it was at her expense.
Annabeth shook her head. “You went to the Hoover Dam and you didn’t even get to appreciate it…I can’t believe this. The experience was wasted on you.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I thought of you while we were there. I even remembered some of the facts you told me.”
“You did?”
Percy nodded. “How could I forget? You talked about it for, like, five whole minutes on that subway in the fall.”
Annabeth blushed. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Oh! We went to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum too. You would’ve liked that too. It was really interesting. We should go back some day together and check it out when there's not a lion chasing me.”
Annabeth pointedly decided to ignore the suggestion that they visit a museum together, even as her heart did a backflip that would win Olympic awards. “Lion? As in the impenetrable Nemean Lion?”
“Yup. The one and only. You wanna know its fatal weakness?”
Annabeth raised her eyebrow.
Percy leaned in, and in a conspiratorial whisper, said: “Freeze-dried astronaut food.”
Annabeth barked a laugh and quickly covered her mouth. “You’re joking.”
“I never joke. I’m a very serious person.”
“Uh huh. Right. And I’m an idiot.”
“Oh, do you want to know something else crazy?” He asked. His eyes were sparkling again, and his mischief was infectious. She motioned for him to continue. “I saw your mom at the Hoover Dam.”
“My mom? What was she doing there?”
“Helping me, I think? Gods know why. I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Wow, really? What gave you that impression? The fact she voted to kill you like an hour ago?” Annabeth deadpanned.
Percy snorted. “Yeah, definitely not my number one fan. When she approached me earlier, she seemed pretty convinced I’m going to destroy Olympus. She told me basically the same thing as Circe last summer–that my loyalty to my friends is going to destroy the world.” As Percy spoke, his voice went from sarcastic to contemplative. “She doesn’t want you to be caught in the crossfire. I guess this is her really weird way of looking out for you?” He dipped his hand into the fountain pool and dragged his fingers through it in a lackadaisical pattern.
“I don’t think you’re going to destroy Olympus,” Annabeth said quietly but firmly.
Percy looked up at that. Annabeth just kept staring at the fountain’s ripples. She continued before she lost her nerve.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say so over the summer. The truth is, I was scared. I wasn’t sure what you would do. I know you’re not the biggest fan of the gods and the way they run things. You’ve always been impertinent.” She smiled a little. “But you’re a good person, Percy. I disagree with my mom. The way you care for others…that’s not going to be the downfall of Olympus. That’s not going to be the downfall of me. You saved me Percy. Don’t listen to my mom. Listen to your heart.” Annbeth rested her palm against Percy’s chest right over his heart. She meant to pull away soon after she said it, but Percy’s hand lay atop hers.
“You mean it? You’re not scared of what I might do?”
“No. Not anymore. We’re a team. I don’t care about my mom’s stupid advice.”
“Whoa, Annabeth Chase calling her mother stupid? Somebody’s gotten to your head.”
“Yeah. You,” Annabeth said, using the hand on his chest to shove him a little.
He let go as he laughed softly, head tilting back and eyes closing. His blond curls caught the sunlight and the breeze. When he opened his eyes again, he caught her staring. Thank the gods, he didn’t make it awkward. He just smiled.
“So you’re not planning on leaving, then?” When Annabeth looked up sharply, he ran a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. “I found a brochure for the Hunters in your things. Not that I was digging through your stuff! I just came across it. Accidentally. And I thought…”
“That I was gonna leave?”
Percy nodded.
Annabeth shook her head. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I just let fear get to my head. It was a brief moment of stupidity, that’s all.”
“Whoa, coming for my job, Wise Girl? Stupidity is my thing.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes, grinning. “Yeah well, you can have it back. I’m all done with it.”
“That’s good to hear. Both that you’re staying and that I have job security.” Percy’s teasing smile softened. “I was really worried, back in the throne room. I thought you were going to go with Artemis instead of Thalia.”
“I noticed. You kinda freaked out,” she teased.
“I did not!”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow.
“Ok maybe I did. Just a little. I just got you back. I didn’t want to lose you again. When you were with Luke, I was so worried I couldn’t even think straight. All I could think about was getting to you and making sure you were safe.”
Gods, she wanted to hug him again. But she controlled herself. “I thought about you too. A lot,” Annabeth admitted.
“You did?” Percy sounded surprised, but she guessed she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t exactly the most forthright with her emotions.
She nodded. “I knew you were coming. I didn’t have any dreams or visions, I just know you. That faith was the only reason I was able to hold on as long as I did. That’s how I know my mother is wrong.”
Percy’s cheeks were pink. “Oh.”
Annabeth grinned—his voice hadn’t cracked like that in years.
“I thought a lot about what you said in Siren Bay especially. The thing about us both needing to be there to survive. I think you were right. More than I even realized at the time. So I’ve decided: whatever happens next, we’re going to get through it together. Deal?” She held out her hand.
Percy grinned. The mere sight set her heart fluttering. He took her hand, grip steady and gentle. He shook it and didn’t let go. She was grateful he didn’t.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
***
No matter how badly Annabeth wanted to lay down and sleep for weeks, there was always something more to do.
The party didn’t settle until well past sunset. Eventually, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover travelled back to camp to regroup before they went their separate ways for winter break. Artemis gave them a ride back in the moon chariot as a final thanks. When she left, Thalia left with her, leaving Annabeth with a quick hug and a promise to always come for Annabeth if she needed help.
Then it was just Percy, Grover, and Annabeth standing alone in a quiet clearing on the edge of camp. Just like old times.
Except nothing would ever be the same again. In the span of a week, everything had changed. Of the five who’d set out to save Annabeth, only two of them returned. Two people died. And Luke…even if he was miraculously alive after that fall, he wasn’t the same. Thalia wasn’t the child of the prophecy–she would never be so long as she was Artemis’s lieutenant.
None of them spoke for a moment. The wind rustled the leaves and the moonlight painted the scene in silver. The reality sank around them like a weighted blanket, although it offered anything but comfort.
“I guess we should talk to Chiron,” Annabeth eventually said. Her voice sounded raw and strained and she hated it. But they all nodded.
Grover started out ahead. Percy offered his hand to Annabeth silently. She accepted it. It didn’t mean anything, not really. They both just needed reassurance that the other was actually there, after everything they’d been through. So, hand in hand, they made their way to the Big House.
***
The meeting with Chiron was just as distressing as Annabeth expected. Especially when Percy ran out after Nico.
Annabeth waited for him out on the porch, gripping the banister so tight, a splinter wedged under her skin. She winced and pulled it out.
When Percy came back, his shoulders were slumped. There was a cut on his jaw, the crimson blood sparking in the moonlight.
She raced down the front steps and met him halfway. “Percy!”
He slumped into her arms, half-hug and half using her for support.
“I lost him.” He sounded like he’d been crying. “Nico, he…his powers…Annabeth, I think he’s a son of Hades.”
The blood drained from Annabeth’s face. Another forbidden child?
“Then he might be the child of the prophecy. Percy, it might not be you after all.”
Percy pulled away, shaking his head. “No. It’s me.”
“You don’t know that–”
“I do,” he said. It was the most firm she’d ever heard him speak. “It’s going to be about me. I don’t care if I’m the chosen one or not. I choose the prophecy.”
Annabeth’s heart dropped like a stone. She bunched the hem of her shirt sleeve in her hand and reached up to his jaw, dabbing away the blood with her sleeve as gently as she could. The sleeve was white, so his blood stained starkly on her clothes. “Don’t say that. Don’t be stupid. That’s not how prophecies work. You can still get out of this.”
Percy’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, slow and stiff, and he pulled her hand away from his cheek. Fresh blood welled back up in the cut. He held her hand there and looked her straight in the eyes. She didn’t want to meet his gaze. She wanted to keep fussing over him. She wanted to keep arguing. But the sheer anguish in his eyes snagged her attention, a knife-sharp hook to the wandering fish of her gaze. She couldn’t look away.
“I don’t care. Nico’s sister is dead, and it’s all my fault. I won’t let the prophecy ruin his life too.”
Annabeth was a broken girl. That’s been an established fact for awhile now. Her heart was a bloody battlefield, scarred and long since abandoned.
But Percy had always been a healing force. He wore his compassion like armor. Percy was always a crystalline ocean glittering in the sunlight–bright, warm, and unstoppable. Like water, nothing seemed to leave a mark on him for long.
But now, he looked just as broken as she was.
Silvery threads of moonlight shattered across his blue irises like falling stars crashing into the midnight ocean. And just like that, the bud of hope sprouting in Annabeth’s heart withered to ashes.
A year and a half. They had a year and half until his sixteenth birthday.
“Okay.” She swallowed, unable to speak above a whisper. “Okay. Whatever happens next, we handle it together.” He was still holding her wrist just a few inches away from his face, so she pulled away and adjusted, lacing her fingers through his, their hands still hovering at chest level. It was a promise.
Percy nodded. He squeezed her hand in lou of words.
They walked back to the cabins like that, in silence. He didn’t let go of her hand until they reached Cabin 6. As soon as his touch was gone, she missed it. Without his hand to ground her, she felt like she might float away on the river of tears lodged in her throat, threatening to spill over.
This whole week, she hadn’t cried once. But now, with the weight of everything settling in the dark silence, she was afraid the dam was finally about to burst.
Deep down, she always knew this would happen. That Percy would be the kid of the Great Prophecy. But she’d allowed herself to hope it might be Thalia instead, and then for a brief moment, Nico. But it was always Percy. Selfishly, she wished it didn’t have to be.
But even if it was, she’d made a promise to herself and to him. She wasn’t going to run.
“Good night,” Percy said. He didn’t move from her doorstep.
“Good night,” Annabeth replied. She walked into her cabin, knowing Percy was watching over her the whole way.
Gods, she didn’t want to leave his side. Especially not if their time was limited. A year and a half until doomsday.
She paused in the doorway. The cabin appeared empty. If there were one or two sleeping figures in there, they were shrouded in darkness. Very few Athena kids were year rounders, as they didn’t have any supernatural powers that would attract monsters. Shadows stretched across the jungle of bunk beds. It was dark and lonely and memories of Atlas’s cavern rose to mind unbidden. Her heart thumped in her chest.
She whirled around. Percy was still standing on the steps. He hadn’t moved a muscle. He watched her with wide eyes.
They spoke at the exact same time.
“Can I stay in your cabin?”
“Do you want to stay in my cabin?”
Percy blushed and Annabeth laughed softly. She relished the little taste of sweet relief.
“Yes please,” she said.
They walked to Percy’s cabin instead. They didn’t hold hands this time, but Annabeth didn’t mind so much, knowing that she wouldn’t be alone through the night anymore.
Annabeth sat down on the bed besides Percy’s as Percy dipped his hands in the saltwater spring in the corner. He poured a handful of water over his face, rinsing off the dust and blood. The fresh cut on his jaw vanished when he turned back around.
Percy looked at her a little nervously. “We can, um. We can share my bed if it’ll help the nightmares. I know I usually get nightmares after a quest at least. I can only imagine what you went through, though. So if you need, I don’t mind.”
Annabeth’s eyes widened. Her heart flipped. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she was tempted.
But there had to be boundaries somewhere. She was desperate for comfort after this week, but a lifetime of self-reliance didn’t change in the span of one night. So she shook her head, even as her heart stuttered, tripping over the sheer longing that took her by surprise.
“This is fine.”
She lay down in the bed and Percy lay down in his, clicking the lamp off. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his soft breaths. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep, or if he was listening for her breathing too, if his anxiety craved constant proof of life just like hers.
This probably wasn’t a healthy way to live. But maybe it was okay if they were both being a little extra clingy. They’d been through something traumatic. It was allowed.
Gods, her heart wasn’t slowing. It fluttered at the same pace as the butterflies in her stomach. She clenched her fists around the quilt to keep herself from reaching out to him.
She was just in an emotional place, she told herself. She just wanted someone to comfort her. Percy just happened to be the most comforting person she knew. There was no correlation.
Oh who was she kidding? She’d told Artemis she’d stop running. So it was time to stop running, especially from herself.
The next morning, she left before he woke up. It was early in the morning and glittering frost still coated the trees and roofs outside. She stepped into her own cabin. It was empty.
She picked up her journal and a pen, pressing the clicker against her lower lip. She remembered Percy’s lips and the way pillowed around her touch. She swallowed and placed the pen to the page.
December 23rd, 2007
I think I have feelings for Percy.