Chapter Text
"Will it hurt?" she asks.
He shrugs. "It might."
Annabeth's lip trembles, but Percy does not care if it hurts. He feels dazed with bliss.
"It's alright," he says. He places a hand on the nape of her neck and she complies, tilting her head down so their lips touch again.
The feeling puts his nothingness into perspective. Everything he has done in his centuries of life thus far, mortal or god, meant very little in comparison to this. He believes Chaos bore Night at the beginning of time so the chain of events of the universe could one day lead to this: Annabeth sat beside him, fingers threading gently through his hair, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.
"Tell me if it hurts," she asks once they part.
Percy misses her already, wishes there was a way to live while always having her this close. When he is mortal, he will have to eat, breathe, sleep, tend to each one of his biological needs that will take up a portion of his limited time with her on the mortal plane.
No matter. This is the only life he has ever wanted and he is eager to get to it.
Percy pulls the flask out of his coat. They are prepared—the last use of Percy's godly powers was to build them a simple cabin where they can rest while he recovers. He by no means intends it to be their final resting place, for he plans to afford them the privilege of building it together. He hopes to collect on Annabeth's promises of a porch with rocking chairs and blue in abundance.
They're in the bedroom, now. Their bedroom, their bed. Percy can hardly contain the butterflies in his stomach. The reason they're in the bed is he might feel horrendously sick after taking the potion, but that fails to overshadow the fact that this is their bed.
Percy takes her hand and kisses it. "When I'm human, will you marry me?"
Annabeth processes his request for a moment of silence before bursting into laughter. "Marry you?"
Percy smiles. "Will you?"
"Would you like that?" She's making fun of him.
"Sweetheart." He kisses the inside of her wrist.
"Of course I will," she says. "I just don't know why you want to."
It makes sense. Their bond goes beyond any social convention, whether it holds validity on mortal or immortal planes. Being married would be to restate an obvious so plain it outshines the sun.
"It would be fun," Percy says, "and I want to call you my wife."
"And what am I now?" Annabeth asks, eyebrows raised playfully.
Percy considers it. "My life. Just a letter off."
Annabeth laughs and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Alright, lover boy, we'll plan the wedding later. Lean back on the headboard."
Percy complies. "Not lie down?"
"If you throw up while you're lying down, you could choke."
"Right. Don't want that."
Annabeth takes a deep breath. "Are you ready?"
In Percy's four hundred and thirty years, he did not learn a word fit to convey just how ready he is. In the absence of such vocabulary, he says, "Yes."
"Are you sure?" she asks. "This could—"
"Annabeth." He takes her face between his hands. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want this. Please, let me do this for you."
For her. He feels giddy. This entire time, he spent waiting for her to call. He feels it pent up within him, the urge to turn himself inside out for her, but she never allowed him to. A body that is not hers is not his, either, it feels wrong and unnatural. He wants to exist only in a state that is for her. He's lived for others for far too long.
Concern is etched onto Annabeth's face. "I love you."
"I love you." He kisses her. "My love."
Annabeth nods. "Yours," she whispers.
Percy picks up the flask. If this kills him, he could ask for no better end. "Okay?"
"Okay."
He uncaps the vial and drinks all of the liquid in one big gulp. It does not take long for the potion to start working.
For a few despairing moments, Percy believes he really will die. This would have meant relief just a day ago, but not anymore, now that he has the most precious thing in the world in front of him.
He remembers when his ichor dripped into Calypso's cauldron, hissing and smoking. That very same reaction seems to be taking place inside his veins. He feels as though he is burning from within, like his limbs are being torn apart from his body. Percy cannot help crying out.
"Percy!" Annabeth sobs.
Percy grips her arm for dear life and writhes in pain. The only thing that stands beside the agony is her presence.
And it would be easy to let go. He believes he could, if he so wished, to end it right here. Mortal life is full of horrible suffering—if he survives, he would be ending this pain only to move onto the next. Would it not be the wisest choice to ensure this is the last?
"Percy," Annabeth calls. "My love, please, please, hold on. For me."
Dizzy, Percy tries to look at her. The same face he saw hundreds of years ago, when he swam in the Styx. It was always meant to be her saving him, giving him back his truest self. What greater pain could that be than the one born of her absence?
"For you," he mutters. He's not sure she can even understand him.
Her face clears up. Her eyes are the perfect, warmest brown. If he dies now, he won't look at them again until she joins him in the afterlife. How could he bear it?
The pain slowly subsides and weakness takes its place. Percy can't help but stumble to the side, no longer strong enough to hold himself up. He wonders if he ever will. He feels so week, he wonders if his body is still in one piece.
Annabeth places two trembling fingers against the pulse of his neck. She thinks I'm dead, Percy realizes dimly.
"Beth," he tries. The sound barely comes out, but it is loud enough to elicit a sigh of relief from Annabeth.
"Are you okay?" she asks. "Does it hurt?"
"Mmm-mmm."
"Okay. It's okay." She kisses his temple. "Just rest. I'll be here."
Percy smiles. He hears her tell him she loves him a few times before he falls unconscious.
Watching the calmness in his face that begins to shift with his eyelashes fluttering, to opening up to that dazzling green-blue with the haze of sleep still fogging them, is the most beautiful thing Annabeth has ever witnessed.
And then he looks at her as if she is the most beautiful thing he's witnessed. Annabeth had spent so long wishing her life to be a dream that she could wake up from. Now, the thought of it terrifies her. Please, if this is a dream, let her stay asleep.
They kiss slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. Funny how finally having a countdown to their end feels freeing.
"How do you feel?" Annabeth asks against his lips.
Percy looks up at her with a lovesick haze in his eyes. His thumb draws circles on her shoulder. "Good."
"How good?"
He reads her expression and turns suspicious. "Good enough."
"Do you want to have sex?" she blurts.
Percy blinks. He looks a lot more awake than he was a moment ago. "Uh, yes. Right now?"
"If you still need rest, that's okay—"
"No, no, I'm good. All rested."
"Okay. Good." Annabeth swallows nervously. "I don't really know…"
He smiles and sits up a bit. "Me neither. Come here?"
Annabeth complies, leaning into him once again to bring their lips together. She has thought about this so much that it's difficult to believe it is truly happening. All the things they could do, and that they now have every opportunity to try. Annabeth giggles.
Percy's face breaks out into a smile. "What?"
She remembers describing herself as a coward in one of her letters. She finds that now, the letters and Percy's responses have given her the courage to say it aloud, including things that terrified her too much to transfer to paper. "I've thought about this for the last four hundred years."
"Kissing?"
"Idiot." Annabeth pulls herself closer to him, his arms around her waist and torsos pressed together. Fleeting hugs and ballroom dances. Always under the watchful eye of others, mortal and immortal alike. It's just them and a temporary cabin by the sea.
Her hands roam his shoulders, his arms, and his move along her ribcage.
"I have, too," Percy whispers. "Thought about this."
Annabeth grins.
His fingers toy at the hem of her shirt. "Can I take this off?"
Her heart pounds with the groan in the slats, the wind whistling outside. Annabeth is still in her Hunter's uniform, save for the coat and boots. Her bow and quiver are gone, and her knife sits on the table beside the bed. She might keep the clothes, she might not, but she can't wait to get out of them. Especially if it's Percy taking them off. That's another thing she dreamed about.
Annabeth raises her arms, and she's naked from the waist up. Percy kisses her once then flips them over and immediately hisses in pain.
"Careful!" Her eyes track over his body for any immediate point of injury.
"I'm okay, Beth."
"You're very convincing."
"Mhm, exactly," he whispers, kissing her once, twice, three times. "You're beautiful."
Annabeth actually blushes, tiny pinpricks burning along her cheeks. "Percy."
"I'll tell you five times every day. At least." His lips trail down the center of her neck, past her collarbones, above her heart. It's beating so fast, Annabeth fears it will break through her ribcage and exit out the front door.
Percy kisses along her breast, his hands delicate on her torso, just moving and feeling, familiarizing himself with her skin. He takes her nerves between his wet lips and Annabeth gasps, squeezing her legs together.
"Percy, love."
He looks up at her with wide, panicked eyes. "Does it not feel good?"
She lets out a frustrated breath. "It does, but I'd rather you take your pants off and get to it."
"What if I want to make you feel good first?"
"You will if you take your pants off."
He chuckles. "Whatever you want, love."
Annabeth feels cold with the distance he draws to finally shed his clothes. Dreams can't quite compare. Those were hazy and disconnected. Here, Percy is right in front of her with a light blush and mortal body, all hers, like he promised.
He climbs back over her. "It might hurt," he cautions.
Impatient, Annabeth says, "I know, I've always heard that."
"I don't think it has to, is the thing. So if it does, you tell me and we'll fix it, okay?"
He's nervous. Annabeth is so incredibly endeared to him, and the desire she's possessed over the last few hundred years only increases more. She nods.
Their hearts race each other.
She grabs his face, asking, "Did you really wait for me?"
"Yes." He kisses her cheek. "I love you." She repeats it.
Her eyes pinch shut. She squeezes his hand tighter. His face buries in her neck. He pushes in and drags himself out, and it doesn't hurt, but it is uncomfortable. Her legs spread further and raise, feet flat on the sheets. Her teeth dig into her lower lip.
It's strange but good. Intense, too. It takes both their breaths away, closer than they've ever been, moving together in stuttering rhythm. Near the end, Annabeth already misses it.
Percy collapses onto her, then immediately half rolls off to avoid crushing her lungs. She misses the contact, too, right away.
He noses at her cheek. "Was that too much?"
"No," Annabeth says through the fog. She holds his face and brings him into a kiss. "I want more."
"Yeah?" The slightest trace of a smirk is etched on his face, the look in his eyes lazy with exhaustion yet alive with want.
He drags himself down her body, and it's completely different. Annabeth squirms and grips and shudders.
She trusts his loyalty, but then, how can he be so good at this? "How do you… know how to…"
"People talk." He kisses her hipbone. "And I pictured this in my head a lot."
"Yeah… yeah, okay." Her back arches. "Me as well."
"Yeah?" She can feel and hear his grin. "What'd you think about? Tell me and I'll do it."
Annabeth groans. "Keep going and I'll tell you."
He does, but she'll tell him later.
She digs her heels into the mattress, his shoulders, until it expands and sparks shoot through her every nerve ending.
When it subsides, an aching hollowness hits Annabeth's chest so hard she cannot breathe. It's quiet, like the world has gone still, waiting for what she does next.
Percy raises himself on his elbows, looking down at her with his eyebrows twisted. "Annabeth?"
She shakes her head as the first tears leak from her eyes. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.
She wipes her tears. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't you ever say that."
It's just a lot, she thinks. There's no pure sadness or euphoria. It's a lot—emotionally, physically. Draining and expressing, wringing herself out into a bucket and he won't let go.
Her soul slowly melts back into her body. Only a few hours have passed since she prayed to him. Only a few hours ago, Annabeth had nearly lost the single drop of hope she had left.
She burrows closer to his side, sniffling. All hers.
"Do you feel different?" Annabeth asks.
He looks at her, and she knows he understands. What she needs from him right now. "I feel… breakable. Everything is dialed to a thousand. I'm really sensitive."
She remembers the shivers that ran through his skin when she touched him.
"What about you?" Percy asks. He speaks very softly to her, she realizes.
"I don't feel any different, but I feel like I should. I remember feeling stronger when I took the blessing."
He hums. "Not too terrible. How was it telling Artemis?"
"Gods, I can't believe that was today. It went better than expected. I think it's because she had been expecting it for some time, but I never broke my vows so she couldn't exactly kick me out before. I don't know why she even wanted me to be lieutenant."
Percy tilts his head. "How couldn't she? You're the strongest leader and warrior there is."
"I was emotionally checked out long before Thalia died."
"She knew promoting you would force you to stay."
"Smart."
"So you won't miss it?"
Annabeth laughs. "I really think four hundred years was enough."
"What about the people, though?" Percy asks. "Your companions?"
That was the part that hurt the most—leaving the girls. Diya, Kat, Layla. Some of them had been in it nearly as long as her, some of them longer. Annabeth wishes she could have been more present in these last decades, but it doesn't change the fact that she would have given her life for them.
"Yeah, I'll miss them," she says with a sigh. "What will you miss?"
"Not the people," Percy says.
"Not even your dad?"
"Least of all my dad."
Annabeth frowns. It is sad, but not surprising that Percy's relationship with his father fell apart. She had just hoped he had at least one thing keeping his life bearable.
"I'm sorry."
Percy kisses her forehead. "I'm not. He can't keep me from you anymore."
"Nobody can," she promises, caressing his face.
"Hmm." He kisses her. "My love."
She smiles into his mouth. "Always. So?"
"What?"
"What are you gonna miss?"
"Oh." Percy lightly raps his fingers on her waist and makes a thinking face so adorable Annabeth has to stop herself from squealing. "Talking to the fish."
Annabeth barks out a laugh. "Shut up."
"I'm serious," he says. "They were the only ones who didn't piss me off, most of the time."
"Fine, so the fish. Anything else?"
"The ocean. And being almost invulnerable so injuries didn't hurt."
A chill runs down Annabeth's spine. She wants to throw up when she thinks about how fragile his body is now. His skin is still spotless, fresh out of godhood, but a paper cut could harm it. Still, Annabeth cannot voice these fears aloud—she does not want him to think she thinks less of him in the body he chose for her.
"So your godliness erased all your scars?" she asks, running a hand down his arm where she distinctly remembered white lines from claw marks, before. She vows to do anything she can to keep his skin this way: unmarred.
"Factory reset," he confirms. "I still remember most of them, though."
"What was the best one? Or worst."
"I blew up this volcano when I was fourteen. Had really nasty scars all over, all red and corroded."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay." He kisses the back of her hand. "All better now."
"So, we will get through everything that happened when you were fourteen, and then the next four hundred and fifteen years of your life?"
Percy laughs, and she sees sunshine. Annabeth laughs with him. It's all she's wanted.
"And how exactly did you survive getting blown up in a volcano?" she asks.
"I nearly didn't," Percy says. "A sorceress healed me."
"A sorceress." Annabeth reviews the options in her head: Circe, Medea, Hecate…
Percy raises his eyebrows when he sees her expression. "Calypso. She made the potion, too."
"I guess I should be thanking her." She runs a thumb across his palm. "You didn't want to stay? Get rid of the prophecy?"
"I thought about it."
"Why didn't you?"
He leans closer. "Guess."
"Oh, stop." She pushes his face away, then pulls it close again, kisses him. "Don't pretend you didn't do it because you're noble."
"Fine." He kisses her. "But I still needed to get you back."
Annabeth's eyebrows quirk down. How much did she derail their lives because she was too cowardly to accept his love when he first offered it? How much was he scarred in chase of her? "I'm sorry."
"My love, are you ever going to stop apologizing?"
"No guarantees."
"Come here." Percy pulls her closer and she wraps her arms around his neck. He whispers into her neck. "You've been forgiven for about three hundred and fifty years."
"That long, huh?"
"Being angry with you hurts too much."
The water comes up to their waists. They're holding hands, facing the horizon.
"We should go deeper," Percy complains.
"No," Annabeth says. "Not until you learn to hold your breath."
Percy rolls his eyes. "How hard can it be?"
"For someone who didn't have to do it for almost five hundred years? I imagine quite."
"Fine," he grumbles, but he's looking fondly at her.
Annabeth can't suppress her smile as she pulls him closer by the waist, wraps her arms around his torso. Bare skin on bare skin—Annabeth's mouth dries when she thinks about what she'd like to do when their swim is over. "I don't want you to drown. We have a good few decades left."
"Okay, sweetheart." He kisses her forehead, then her lips. "Can I try?"
"Go ahead."
They part. Percy inhales loudly and holds his breath, then lowers himself so his head is underwater. His discomfort is visible—he's not used to being at the mercy of the tides. He's always been one with them, bending them to his will as though the sea were a fifth limb. Now, he stumbles and flails like a child learning to walk. It fills Annabeth's heart with guilt.
He does well for a few seconds. Annabeth just watches, prepared to administer a life-saving maneuver if he inhales too much water, but she prays she won't have to. They've only been mortal for three days, which is far too soon for a near-death experience.
Suddenly, he jerks up, coughing violently. Annabeth flies forward, grabs both of his arms to steady him.
"Percy?" she calls, alarmed. She can't tell if he's actually choking. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he sputters, coughs a few more times. "Fuck, that sucks. Holy shit."
Annabeth lets out a sigh of relief. "You inhaled, didn't you?"
Percy frowns. "Yeah."
"You need to come up for air while you're exhaling, love."
"Yeah. Okay."
Annabeth can't stand seeing him so dejected. She pulls him into a hug.
"It's okay, my love," she says. "It was only your first try. You'll get used to it."
He melts gratefully into her. "I just thought it would be easier."
"It will, in no time." She kisses him. "You're so smart. You'll get the hang of it."
"Then we can go swimming together." He kisses her cheek, she can feel him smile into her skin.
"Exactly." She takes a step back. "Okay. Try again."
"Hey, I'm older than you now."
"No, you're not," Annabeth responds without missing a beat.
They're sitting at the edge of a cliff. Long, dry grass pokes at their legs. The ocean crashes below, a dark gray on the overcast afternoon.
Percy's nimble fingers comb through her coils of hair, parting the sections to braid it. It seems he didn't lose his knot tying skills, so Annabeth barely had to teach him anything. The last person to do her hair was Thalia.
"I stopped aging two whole years after you," he says, tying one off and beginning on another section.
"It wasn't whole, it was one year and eight months. And that doesn't mean you're older than me."
"Yes, it literally does."
Annabeth begins to turn her head, but he takes her chin in hand to keep her face forward. It's foggy in the distance.
"It didn't change our birthdays," she says.
"Don't care. I'm older now. Hey, and taller."
"Shut it, I've been alive longer than you. That's what counts."
Percy's quiet for a long moment while he continues braiding. She knows he is thinking, sorting out how to say it.
"Did you ever want kids?" he asks. "Before… everything?"
"No. Maybe I would've when I was older, but no."
He hums.
"Did you?"
"I never really thought about it. I kind of just thought of it as something that everyone does."
"What about now?"
The tension in a part of her scalp is let go of. Annabeth looks behind her, and Percy stares back. Kind eyes.
"I'm good with us," he says.
She smiles. "Me too. Thank the gods, because I haven't had my period for ninety-nine percent of my life, and I don't think I ever will again."
He laughs.
Their home comes together much more slowly than their makeshift cabin. It's all well with Percy. They design it together, laying out the pros and cons of this room being this size, of that room being in the back of the house as opposed to the front. They install plenty of windows, with shutters for when the wind grows too unpredictable.
They go north, where summers are mild and overgrown grass stings when it brushes their calves. They don't encounter other people for the first several weeks, so any company that isn't each other rests in the few ships that pass like smoke through the sea.
There's the cat that visits them every now and again. They named it Charlie once they realized it'd be a frequent visitor. Charlie's their most frequent company, in addition to the old couple that journeys down from the mountain once a month. Such a young couple, living by yourselves, they never fail to remark.
Percy cooks, Annabeth hunts. She helps him learn to swim and fight again. He will no longer be a target for monsters, but he will not let her battle alone, no matter how much she insists he stay out of it now that nectar will kill him. Alone is a concept they do what they can to extinguish.
Half-bloods appear in Percy's dreams. He thinks about how he left them patronless and it makes him quiet. How many have died in the streets because nobody is answering their prayers? Annabeth insists on taking on some of the guilt—she took him away, she says, she caused it all to begin with. It breaks his heart. Sometimes he wishes they could forget, but knows they shouldn't.
Blue walls they paint together. They cover them in pictures, drawings, paintings. The letters sit safely in a drawer in their bedroom—too painful to display out in the open, too precious to discard. Proof that they never gave up on each other.
It's a home. Sometimes, Percy thinks thinks of dying here and smiles to himself (so long as he goes first).
"Today's a good day for it," Percy says, squinting at the sun.
"You think?"
Annabeth digs her toes into the sand. She and Percy walk on the beach, hand in hand, pants folded up to their mid-ankles so can get their feet wet. He's a much better swimmer now, but it's too cold for that this time of year.
"Yeah, look." Percy juts his chin out, pointing off to the side. "Our witness is here."
Annabeth follows his gaze—Charlie's trailing a few feet behind them, sometimes stopping to pick at the tiny fish that swim near the sand.
Annabeth smiles. "It is a nice day."
"Should we go for it?" Percy pulls her closer by the hand, tucks her hair behind her ear.
"I think we should." She lifts herself up on her tip toes to kiss him. "I'll get the cat."
"I'll get the rings."
Even though Percy saw fit to propose about an hour after Annabeth called for him, they've taken their time to have the ceremony. Without Percy's godly privileges, they feel it is safer not to do away with all of the rites. For their own comfort, they decided to do it when their house was complete, or nearly so. A new home for a new life. It is no small thing for all their years of waiting.
And Percy's right—it is a good day. The sun shines bright enough to scare away the cold of late October, not harsh enough to burn. Annabeth teases him about all the wrinkles he will get, better watch out for sunburns, and he smiles at her so big that his eyes nearly shut. It makes her feel like she has the warmth of a thousand stars in her chest.
Because she's spent plenty of time in pants, Annabeth decides she will wear a dress for the occasion. Not a white one, but a light, sage green that matches the inner layer of his irises (there is a whole world of green in his eyes that she's discovered, now that she has the time to look). She made it herself.
They change together, her into her dress, Percy into his button-up, which Annabeth also made. There is no need for hiding or secrecy, nor would she want any. This will be a wedding of no surprises.
Percy follows Annabeth while she plucks some wildflowers from their garden. She tucks one behind his ear and cannot help smiling at the sight. He is so beautiful, so human with the soft blush and the sun freckles on his cheeks.
"You're so pretty," she tells him.
"Well, you're the prettiest in the whole world," he says, kisses her. "Will you marry me?"
"Mmm. Don't you think it's a bit too soon?" Annabeth tilts her head to the side. "We've only been dating for a few months."
Percy laughs. "Sweetheart."
"Yes?"
"I think I've been your boyfriend for about four hundred years."
"Funny, I distinctly remember saying I wouldn't be your girlfriend," Annabeth says and Percy pouts. "Too soon?"
To ensure Charlie will stay for the duration of their makeshift ceremony, Percy sets a plate of sardines a few feet away. It seems sea creatures of all sorts are still abundantly fascinated with him, even now, which makes him an exceptional fisherman. It's a good thing Annabeth likes the taste of fish, because that is a large portion of their diet.
They assume position on the sand, nowhere in particular. Their home to one side, the sea to the other. Percy fishes their rings out of his pocket and hands her the larger one.
"Do you want to go first?" he asks.
"Yes, because I'll be crying way too hard to say anything intelligent when you're done with yours."
Percy laughs. "Okay, my love. For the record, I think you sound intelligent even when you're crying."
"I love you."
"I love you." He takes her hands. "Okay."
Annabeth exhales shakily. "First, I've always loved you. I feel as if I've been writing my vows to you for years. You never turned your back on me even when I was begging you to. Because you knew me better than I knew myself, and you knew I needed you. There would be nothing without you and I lived every day in search of you.
"Soon after we met, you changed my life for the better. You rewrote everything I thought I knew. I would rather die than be apart from you again. Really, we are very lucky. Without the Underworld, this would be it for us. We've fought to be able to die, but then we'll spend eternity together. I'm fighting it now to be doubtful, question if that is what you truly want. But I believe you. I trust you. I would know it was you if I could not see nor hear, I would know you're never farther than a few feet from me.
"I do believe I knew you before this life, but when it's over, I can't give it up. If we're not both in our third lives, that is. I want to be with you, as we are now, forever. It's difficult to conceptualize infinity. Things begin and end every day, that's what life is. But I think I can understand infinity when it's through the context of you. I promise to never lose sight of that. I promise to uplift you, to love you, to care for you, to be yours for all of time."
Annabeth slides the ring onto Percy's finger, both of them shaky. It's a simple golden band that came with the pair that appeared at their fireplace after the first fire went out. She takes the hand up to her mouth and kisses the cold metal.
Percy wipes a tear off his cheek, smiling down at her like she invented the moon and the stars. "My perfect, beautiful love. How can I ever thank the Fates enough for you?"
Annabeth shakes her head. There aren't enough words she could say, not in any of the languages she's learned, nor in any other language, dead or alive.
Percy kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. "My turn?"
Annabeth leans her head against his chest and takes a deep breath. Percy is definitely about to say the most breathtakingly beautiful things to her and she fears her heart will stop beating in her chest. Who knew having what she has always wanted would be so terrifying?
His arms tighten around her shoulder. Annabeth exhales and looks up at him, then nods. Percy takes a deep breath.
"In one of your letters, you told me it hurt to know I want you as you are. I think I understand, but I need you to know that, for a long time, wanting you was the only part of my life that was worth living. It saved me. You saved me," he says. The way he's looking at her could heal injuries, Annabeth thinks, and can't help but wrap her arms tighter around his torso. "Wanting you was one thing—it was overwhelming on its own, how much I wanted you, but having you is something else entirely. I wish I had the words to tell you. I could say you are my life, my world, but it wouldn't be enough.
"I feel as though I didn't truly exist as myself until you called. You are everything in the most literal sense of the word, and I know this because I remember what it was like to feel I had nothing. I am so thankful that you came back to me, I am so thankful, my love." He takes her hands to his lips and kisses both of them. Annabeth had been right about going first—she cannot stop crying. "I know mortal life wears on the mind, but I promise you this: I will live every day for the rest of my life with the knowledge that you are its light. I will not get used to it, I will not take you for granted, I will not forget begging the Fates for you. I will be faithfully yours, completely, until my last breath and beyond. There is nothing else I'd like to be." He kisses her. "And nothing is more important to me than you, and your happiness. I hope I can make your life happy, and I vow to keep trying."
The instant he is finished speaking, Annabeth fiercely presses her lips against his. She intends to seal the words in place, his and hers, set them in her flesh and blood so they remain when she turns back to dust.
There are two rocking chairs on the porch, but one is not occupied. Why should it, when a single chair fits two?
Annabeth curls up into Percy like a cat. When she molds into his body like this, he can convince himself they will not part again. It is peaceful to imagine what they might have been like before Zeus split them in half. He has come to see the divide was not straight-lined, but even all the same.
At day's end, they sit and watch the ocean. He misses it sorely, but she soothes it. He listens to the waves, she, to his heartbeat.
She lifts her head from his chest to look at him. A calloused finger runs gently across his temple.
A smile blooms on her face. "Is that a wrinkle?"
"Is it?"
"I think it is."
Percy squints. "You haven't got any."
"Hmm." Annabeth shakes her head, leans her head back on his shoulder. "Give it time."
