Chapter Text
Annabeth Chase hated Percy Jackson. From the moment his mortal soul had dissolved in a shower of gold at Zeus’ command, he was lost to her. Gone was the beautiful golden boy with perpetually messy black hair who drooled in his sleep. All that remained were his eyes. Green like the calm sea on a sunny day, still so achingly kind. And it hurt her to know that they would never crinkle at the edges when he’s old and gray. It hurt her more to know that the two of them will never grow old and gray together, because he is immortal. Percy would never change, never age, unless he willed it. The Fates had stopped holding their scissors over his golden thread. His eyes were the last painful reminder of the Percy that Annabeth loved. His blood flowed gold now, and gods were not meant to be loved by mortals.
To love a god wholly is a dangerous thing. Gods are meant to be admired and worshiped. Desired from afar, never close enough to touch. The risk involved with loving someone is too great when your life and love is only an infinitesimal blip in their endless timeline. When you die, they might mourn you for a second, because they always knew you were bound to die eventually in the way mortals do, before moving on to their next conquest. And even if they were to love you with all their heart, your death would damn them to an eternity of grief and yearning. Oftentimes, even other immortals aren’t immune to the inevitable heartbreak that comes with committing yourself body and soul to someone time can’t reach. And Annabeth Chase is still going to die one day, despite the godly blood running through her veins. One day, her very mortal heart will stop beating and she’ll end up somewhere in the Underworld.
Annabeth Chase never thought herself a coward or someone who shied away from the unknown. Sometimes, the riskiest course of action is the best choice. The element of surprise that accompanies it gives you an advantage over your enemies that can mean the difference between emerging victorious or getting something sharp stabbed through your stomach. Sometimes, the risk is worth it. Annabeth would happily suffer through pain and injury if it carried her plan along.
She was always her mother’s daughter, constantly analyzing and calculating, weighing the sacrifice with the reward. Thus, Annabeth came to the conclusion that she hated Percy Jackson, simply because the cost of her loving him was too great.
When she rode the elevator down from the Empire State Building after the Battle of Manhattan, crammed alongside a dozen other heavily armored demigods, she felt empty. It should be her proudest moment. She’s the Architect of Olympus and on the winning side of the Titan War.
Silena. Michael. Ethan. Their names echo in her mind. Luke. Annabeth takes a deep breath. Percy. Percy’s gone too.
Grover gently bumps her shoulder with her own, his hooves tapping the tile nervously. Unwarranted, she wonders if Grover and Percy’s empathy link will still work. Annabeth hopes so, for both of their sakes. They’re each other’s best friends. And if anyone deserves someone to care about them right now, it’s Grover.
Everyone tiredly stumbled into the Delphi Strawberry van. Some slept clutching their weapons. Clarrise was practically spooning her sword in her sleep. Others clung to each other, crying silently.
Late at night, Annabeth snuck out of the Athena cabin. She sat on the beach and stared as the navy waves broke against the moonlight in a crash of white as she pulled a chocolate cake covered with blue icing out of a box she had pilfered from the cafeteria. Methodically, sixteen candles were placed on the brick-like cake. She and Tyson had made it earlier, in hopes of celebrating Percy’s sixteenth birthday together. Instead, she commemorates it as a sort of goodbye. In a couple years, Annabeth knows that Percy will start to forget when his birthday was. To a god, growing a year older holds no significance when you know that you will have infinitely many years left. She cuts two slices of the cake with her dagger. One slice she sets aside for herself. The other she hurls into the ocean.
“Happy birthday, Seaweed Brain.” For a second, she desperately hopes that Percy will somehow hear her and her unsaid plea. To come back to her. To return to the life they could’ve had. But all that she gets in response is the endless expanse of the ocean, lapping at the sand.
“Why, Percy? Why did you leave?” Annabeth hates the way her voice shakes as she whispers to herself.
As she watches the slice of blue cake get pulled away by the waves, she allows herself to cry. For everyone who died. For the Percy that she loved and for the Percy that she hates.
She cries for herself and all that she has lost. And somehow, that heals her just a little. Annabeth doesn’t know how long she stays there, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.
By the time she finally gets to her feet, she can already hear the distant clang of campers eating breakfast.
From then on, she tries to forget him. She stays as far away from the sea as she can. Annabeth mentors nearly every new camper that stumbles into camp. They’re young, confused, and often terrified, and she sees herself in them. In a few, she sees glimpses of Percy. In their defiant stance and unwavering loyalty, with an innate desire to survive.
The next two years at camp are almost bearable. Grover is still her closest friend, but Annabeth doesn’t get to see him as much as she would like, with him being a Lord of the Wild and all. She even strikes up an unlikely friendship with Rachel Dare. There are few things Annabeth hates more than saying that she was wrong. However, she’ll grudgingly admit that she did judge the Oracle a bit harshly at first. Rachel lets her laze about the floor of her cave, which is surprisingly comfortable, while she paints. In a way, watching Rachel paint is therapeutic for Annabeth. There’s no predicting what her colors will become. Sometimes, she’ll paint her memories of Percy, and it makes Annabeth’s heart seize each time she sees him staring back at her, even if it’s from a canvas. On those days, she tends to leave early.
She socializes with the other campers, laughs with them around the bonfire. Because she’s completely fine.
One day, she overhears Katie Gardner talking to her younger sister, and her heart seems to lodge in her throat.
“She used to be so much happier. Before it all happened, her laugh was so light. He was her missing piece, always caught up in each other. Everyone at camp could see it, Caroline. We were placing bets about when they would finally get together. The Aphrodite cabin was having the time of their life with all the tension. And then after the war-” Katie paused, testing her words. “After the war he became a god and she stayed mortal. He went to Olympus and she stayed behind.”
Caroline seemed entranced, equally horrified and intrigued. “Do you think she misses him?”
Katie shrugs. “She’s always been hard to read. But I do know that what they had doesn’t go away easily. I don’t need to be well-versed in ways of the heart to see that.”
“Does he miss her?”
“He would be a fool not to.”
“That sounds like the start of one of those ancient myths, Katie.”
“I just hope it’s not a tragedy,” is all she murmurs in reply before hustling her to archery practice.
Maybe Annabeth wasn’t as okay as she’s been convincing herself she is.
Annabeth stoically watches as Percy is given his own cabin at Camp Half-Blood, along with a plethora of other minor deities. When she asks Chiron about it, he says it was at Percy’s request that more minor gods and goddesses receive a cabin so that their children have somewhere at camp to call home and belong. She isn’t surprised. Of course Percy would. Because he is unwaveringly good and fair, everything a god should be. And it infuriates Annabeth that maybe he was never meant to stay with her, that his soul was always destined for the stars.
As she’s lying in bed that night, a breeze, perhaps guided by a god, drifts in from the open window of the Athena cabin. It carries with it a flier that Annabeth faintly remembers. The Hunters of Artemis, and their promise of sisterhood and semi-immortality at the cost of romantic love. She gives a bitter laugh. The only man she would’ve felt anything for has probably forgotten her, too caught up with his new godly duties. And so, Annabeth begins to do what she does best. In the quiet of the night, she has a plan.
Annabeth barges into Thalia’s tent at the crack of dawn. By the time Apollo finishes his journey in his chariot, she’s the newest member of the Hunters of Artemis.
50 years is a long time to not see someone. Even if you hate them. Especially if you once loved them. The Hunters will visit Olympus occasionally, and every time, she waits with bated breath after every corner they turn, her traitorous heart yearning for just once glance. Annabeth is aware that this makes her pathetic. And she can’t bring herself to care. Because the god she hates just happened to be the man that she loved.
Her duties with the Hunter’s are easy enough, and she enjoys Thalia and the other Hunters’ near constant company. Annabeth has come to relish the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction that comes from a successfully slain beast. Artemis is surprisingly easy to get along with; certainly more amicable than Hera. Anyone can see that Artemis is completely at ease with her Hunters, and it fills Annabeth with a sense of warm pride to be among them.
Eventually, while tracking a particularly frustrating, flesh-eating Mare of Thrace, the Hunters set up camp within Camp Half-Blood. Once all the tents are pitched and fires are started, Annabeth and Thalia start to make their way into the center of camp. Without warning, Thalia starts to sprint toward the bonfire surrounded by campers, laughing and grinning broadly at Annabeth. She rolls her eyes, and with a smile filled with false resignation, chases after her. The two girls come to a stop, eyes twinkling.
“Hail Kennedy Walker, daughter of Perseus Jackson!” Chiron’s voice rings out over the entire pavilion. A blue sword swirled over the brown haired girl’s head, like it was made of water. Annabeth would recognize Riptide’s delicate yet lethal blade anywhere. What’s more, Annabeth recognized that shade of blue. It was the blue of exactly three drops of blue food coloring, identical to Sally Jackson’s blue chocolate chip cookies.
Somewhere in the distance, a sizable gaggle of children of varying ages cheer, no doubt thrilled to welcome the latest addition to their cabin.
Typically, demigods with the same godly parent share some sort of identifying feature that marks them as one of the same. Children of Athena and their characteristic blonde hair. The rough strength of Ares’ kids. The vibrant personalities of children of Apollo and the air of perpetual drowsiness that accompany children of Hypnos. Annabeth would’ve thought that they would’ve at the very least inherited Percy’s haunting sea green eyes. Oddly enough, they all looked completely different from each other. And not in the way that other demigod siblings didn’t look like each other. Practically everyone’s features were in contradiction with the kid sitting next to them. But it was clear that they all cared for each other fiercely and with a loyalty that can only be explained by family. Perhaps that’s what they’d each inherited from him. His best quality and fatal flaw was always his loyalty.
Something in Annabeth broke at that moment. Of course he had moved on. Why would he remember that silly mortal girl he kissed once or twice? Never mind that that silly mortal girl was hopelessly in love with him and just too scared to admit it. Percy was always notoriously scatterbrained at times.
Annabeth wasn’t blind. She, of all people, would know that Percy was gorgeous. She’s seen too many girls try their luck with him, infatuated with his sword fighter’s build, soft dark hair, and enthralling eyes, with that mischievous smile of his that no doubt made their stomach do little flips. Not that she’s speaking from experience. And she’s sure that godhood has only made him more perfect. He could have any person he wanted. For a moment, Annabeth wanted to cry out like a petulant child. She knew she wasn’t being reasonable, and that made it hurt even more. Because he is the only one who could drive her past a point of reason.
Why did you choose them? Why not me, Percy? Why is it never me?
Never mind that she’s been a huntress for the last 50 years, and the last time she’d seen him was when she watched the boy she loved leave her. Making her ask why seemed to be a trend that Percy was intent on.