Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.”
― Hans Christian Andersen

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Perseus often found himself running barefoot through the woods near his home for several reasons, the least of which being it was the best place to hide from his step-father when the man was in one of his moods. The beach, while Perseus preferred it, was far too open to avoid being spotted, whereas the dense trees and bramble provided ample opportunities to slip away unseen until supper— or sometimes even later, depending on when the man in his home fell asleep.

Today was one such day. His step-father had grown furious about something, or perhaps nothing at all— Perseus had already forgotten, his mind fixed on finding shiny rocks and other bounties the woods offered, hoping to bring home presents for his mother. He wished she would come hide with him in the woods when Gabriel was upset. She never did. She smiled soft, and said grown-ups don’t hide from their problems. Perseus sort of wanted to be a grown up, but for now was glad he was not so he could continue to disappear between trees and avoid things like angry step-fathers. But maybe an arrowhead or a stone made smooth and translucent by time could cheer his mother up— sometimes it seemed as if she wished she wasn’t grown either.

Perseus did not look up as he walked— he knew the way to the pond well, and it helped that the grass beneath his soles was flattened from the repetition of trodding the same path over and over again.

Which was why he did not see the branch until it hit him in the forehead hard and knocked him dizzy. Perseus wobbled back and forth— he was a small boy, even for his age, and branches rarely were low enough to even brush the top of his unruly black hair, so this was an unprecedented slight by nature that hurt his feelings more than his physicality.

 He stumbled, then toppled forward over a rock— scraped his hands and knees and treated his trousers his mother had just repaired once more to new exciting rips on the rough stone that bordered the pond. 

Perseus felt his eyes sting nearly as much as his palms, the sight of blood greeting him as he scrambled to sit up properly to make sure the small brass astrolabe hanging from his neck was intact, and once he confirmed it had survived the tumble he tucked it beneath his shirt to examine his wounds.

The pond gurgled, the small waterfall and various little streams that fed it obviously in a brighter mood than Perseus. Truthfully, it had been a very difficult day for him, so with the knowledge that the birds and trees would hardly blame him for it, Perseus buried his face against his bloodied knees and began to cry.

“What are you doing?”

A girl’s voice shocked him from his tears, his head jerking up to meet crystal clear gray eyes peeking above the rock he was seated upon, the rest of her seemingly hidden beneath the surface of the water.

“N-nothing.” He rubbed vigorously at his wet cheeks.

The girl frowned. “You were crying.”

“I wasn’t.” Perseus denied, stubbornness creeping into his voice.

“Yes you were. I saw you.” The girl seemed to have her own stubborn streak, her gaze narrowing.

“I don’t cry.” Perseus declared through sniffles, finally allowing his bleary eyes to focus on her.

She couldn’t be older than him, no more than nine, and her long hair was slicked back with water, blonde with near-white strands sticking to her face and shoulders that were just barely visible above the stones. Her skin was pale too, like her irises and her hair— except for the skin that surrounded her eyes, red and raw.

Perseus frowned back at her, “ You were crying.” He repeated her accusation, and the girl seemed just as indignant as he had been.

“I wasn’t.” His own denial was shot back.

“Then why are your eyes red?”

Her fingers lifted to touch them, “Eyes get red when you cry?”

Perseus nodded.

“Hmm.” Her head tilted up at him, “Well yours are too. So you must have been crying!”

“Boys don’t cry.” Perseus knew this was silly as his mother had often assured him tears were for everyone and that he should never be ashamed of big feelings, but in the moment, he was embarrassed and caught unawares.

The girl’s frown depended, “Everyone does.”

“Not me.” He insisted, and the girl pursed her lips.

“Well then… well then girls don’t cry either!”

“Then neither of us were crying, I suppose.” Perseus relented, giving them an out.

The girl looked as if she were to argue, before slowly nodding, “I suppose not.”

They both went quiet, as if suddenly shy now that the crying thing was sorted, before Perseus finally couldn’t fight his curiosity; “Why are you in there?”

Her brows furrowed, “Shouldn’t I be?”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he changed the subject, “Do you live nearby? I haven’t seen you around before— not in classes or town or… there aren’t many houses here.”

“I don’t live in a house,” the girl said slowly, “but I do live nearby.”

Not in a house? Perseus was suddenly intrigued. The only person he knew without a house was the old man with the long beard in town who everyone else avoided, but Perseus knew he secretly had the best stories. Maybe this girl did too. He didn’t know that children could also not have houses. “Do you live in a caravan then? Like… like with a circus? Or the Travelers who come through?” His voice hitched with excitement before dying as the girl shook her head. “Do you live in the trees? Or a cave?”

The girl paused. “I suppose it’s a sort of cave— but not likely the kind you’re thinking.”

Perseus was stumped, and he screwed his nose up in thought, before a thought dawned on him; “Do you… live in this pond?”

The girl looked around. “Not this pond, but one similar. And that’s only sometimes.”

Perseus felt himself puff up with pride at guessing correctly, “Are you visiting then?”

The girl sighed, folding her arms on the stone and resting her chin on them, now melancholy, “I'm stuck.”

“You’re stuck?” Perseus leaned to peer around her, “Do you need me to untangle you? Sometimes fishing nets get washed into here, mother says they’re very dangerous to swimmers.”

“Oh no, I can move around just fine!” To demonstrate, the girl pushed off from the rock and glided back easily. Perseus caught a glint of something shiny beneath the clear water.

“How are you stuck, then?”

The girl glared at the waterfall, “My pond is up there, somewhere. At least I think it is… I got washed down and can’t swim back up.” She huffed, though Perseus could hear the tightness in her small voice and the familiar quiver that indicated tears— tears that neither of them should be able to shed, according to their own declarations.

Knowing how embarrassed he would be if his own lie about crying was revealed, and not wishing a similar fate on the girl, Perseus hurriedly spoke up, “Well why can’t you climb out and walk back?”

“I don’t get legs until I’m seventeen.” The girl lamented.

This was a conundrum, and a bit confusing. “You get legs for a birthday present?”

She nodded, then paused, then shook her head, “It’s not a present, it’s bi-o-lo-gy.” She sounded out the syllables in ‘biology’ slowly, as if she had only recently discovered the word and was still getting used to saying it.

“…like frogs? They don’t have legs until they grow up too.”

The girl paused. “I suppose… yes, very similarly to frogs.”

“Then do you have a tail like baby frogs do?”

The girl kicked up from beneath the water to show off her tail in answer.

Perseus was delighted, and he scrambled to the edge of the rock as the girl began to make her way back towards him, “Wow! It’s… wow!” It wasn’t much like a tadpole tail as he had expected it to be— closer to that of a fish with its fluke and fins.

“It’s alright.” The girl shrugged, but with the way she preened, it was clear she was flattered by his reaction. “Mother’s is prettier.”

“May I see it again?” Perseus was pleased when her tail was lifted toward the surface once more, the girl bracing her hand against the rock.

It was a pale, luminous silver, but when the light caught it, iridescent blues and greens shone throughout the scales, scales that went up to blend into the girl’s torso. She wore no shirt, which seemed very sensible to Perseus— it was difficult to swim in shirts. Upon closer look, scales could be seen on her arms too, speckled here and there, and some shimmered pleasantly on her cheekbones.

“Wow.” He breathed again, then almost wistfully, “I wish I had a tail.”

“They’re great fun.” The girl swished the fluke which Perseus had yet to examine— it was large, with all sorts of gossamer fins floating about and making it look like the pretty fabric his mother often worked with, the ones Perseus loved to run his fingers through. In this circumstance, he politely kept his hands to himself.

“Can boys have tails?” He asked, tilting his head as he stared at the colors shifting where her knees should have been.

“Not many.” She sniffed, “Most of us are girls, or neither boy nor girl— at least all the ones I’ve met are. And when sons are born, they go live on land with their fathers. They aren’t born with tails like us.”

“Oh.” Perseus was disappointed. “But there are some?” 

“Of course. But the ones with tails usually only come about if their father also had a tail. If he doesn't, they won’t.”

“Ah.” Perseus’ brow furrowed again, “Then where did the first man with a tail come from?”

This stumped them both.

“Well anyway,” The girl continued, her high pitched voice now shrill and slightly irritated (Perseus was getting the feeling she didn’t like not knowing things,) “That’s why I can’t simply walk back to my pond.”

Perseus scratched his head. It was a conundrum, to be sure; he couldn’t carry her all by himself, her tail looked like it would weigh two of him even if her torso was much smaller than his own, and he didn’t have any sort of wagon to drag her along in. He stood, walking around the edge of the pond, pacing like he’d seen adults do when they were thinking.

Finally, an idea struck him.

“I think… I think you could swim back.”

The girl looked doubtful, “Up the waterfall?”

He shook his head, “There’s this cave behind it— adults here are always talking about these caves that go all underground, connecting a whole bunch of ponds and rivers and pools and things and some even to the ocean—“

“I know them.” The girl said slowly, a smile coming to her lips revealing slightly pointier than usual canines, “Do you think one of them is connected here?”

“Has to be.” Perseus declared confidently, “Where else would the water go? It would overflow if the waterfall just filled it all the time, right?” He didn’t wait for her response, wiping his scraped, dirty, bloodied palms on his trousers with a wince before kneeling and holding out a hand to the girl to shake, like he’d seen grown-ups do; “My name is Perseus, by the way— but I don’t like being called that very much, so you can call me Percy.” Said Percy.

The girl stared at his hand, as if trying to figure out what it was for, before lifting her own and placing her fingers perpendicular to his palm, as if trying to pick something up from it. The pads of her fingers were soft, and slightly sticky— not in a slimy way, more as if there were many tiny suction cups hidden on the skin.

Percy decided not to correct her on how to shake hands.

“Annabeth.”

“That’s a very human name.” Percy was surprised, and the girl pulled her hand back, defensive.

“It’s a very normal sea name!” Annabeth huffed, as if this were a sore spot for her.

“Sorry, I guess I wouldn’t really know.” Percy pulled his own hand away and stood again, walking along the edge towards the waterfalls, “Come on, this way!”

The water splashed him as he reached the small falls, but he easily slipped behind them, not minding if his clothes became soaked. He could see the girl— Annabeth— dive beneath.

They both emerged in a damp, dark cave, and when Percy looked down to make sure Annabeth had made it over alright, her gray eyes reflected the small amount of light back at him like a cat’s would.

“Wow,” he breathed for the nth time, before glancing around the cavern— it went further back, farther than he dared go before.

Of course Percy was familiar with the cave. Any self-respecting child within walking distance of a cave would have gone in once or twice, at the very least.

There were some old bottles scattered on the sandy stone floor, as well as rotted wood from what may have once been crates or barrels, a broken stool, other litter and rubbish that Percy liked to believe was left by pirates. He reached down and picked up a dirty old candle, searching around for some matches that weren’t disintegrated or soggy— luck was on his side today, as some sort of flint machine he’d seen the older kids use for cigars was under the stool, and in a moment there was a bit more light.

He turned, Annabeth’s near translucent eyes transfixed on the flame, “Wow…” she used his word, and Percy smiled to himself, padding back to her and crouching down to the water.

“Don’t touch it.”

“I know what fire does!” She responded, miffed, but clearly too entranced to remain indignant for long. 

The two sat like that for a moment, then Percy stood and they continued on, Annabeth swimming beside him, though they kept glancing at one another and giggling. 

They didn’t get far before hitting a wall, and Percy was grateful as he didn’t like the idea of losing sight of the now far-off entrance.

“Is there an opening down there?” Percy raised his candle to peer into the dark water.

Annabeth dived without responding, then popped back up a few moments later, “You’re right! There’s a tunnel.”

Percy once more felt pride surge through him, and he puffed out his chest; “There, you see? Easy!”

“You really think it’ll go up?” Annabeth sounded doubtful again, and Percy grinned at her.

“Only one way to find out.” He looked up, “There’s a big ol’ pond up there, a little beyond the waterfall— is that the one you came from?” His gaze dropped back down, and Annabeth shook her head.

“No, it’s a bit further– but I came down the river to that one up there, then the falls caught me.”

“Want to try and meet back at the upper pond then?” His smile widened, “I’ll race you!” Percy turned and began to dash to the entrance, hearing a protest followed by the splash of fins disappearing below the surface.

The candle was left extinguished in the cave so it would be there for next time, tucked away with the flint in a dry crevice. Percy worried this might ruin his chances of winning, but he needn’t have— despite having to clamber up mossy hills and rock, Percy made it to the larger, higher pond far sooner than the girl. He crouched by the banks, panting slightly. Of course, the burning in his lungs was forgotten as soon as he spotted a particularly good stick, which he gleefully seized to begin drawing squiggles in the mud that his bare toes sank into.

There was less rock up here, the edges of this pond lapping at mineral-rich silt that hid a great many wonders, like bugs, and even fossils on occasion. But it was further into the trees than Percy’s mother preferred him to venture, so he only climbed up when the lower-pond was occupied by the older children from town. They weren’t very nice, and he didn’t understand some of the games they played, but recently they came around less and less, which was favorable.

Enough time had passed that Percy began to worry— had she gotten lost, or stuck, or hurt? But his fears were assuaged by the pale head popping above the water, a small hand making a gesture like a wave— but no wave Percy had ever seen. More of a rolling motion than a back-and-forth. He waved back a human wave.

“Hullo again!” He grinned the smile his mother liked to call his ‘fae stolen’ smile, claiming he must have taken it from some forest creature who had come to his cradle to vanish him into the night, scaring it away and keeping all the mischief for himself, “I won!”

The girl waded closer to the shallows, grumping, “Only because you knew the way! It was my first time!”

“But a win is a win.” Percy held out his hand expectantly.

Annabeth stared at it with a frown, pulling herself up onto the bank, tail gleaming in the late afternoon sun streaming through branches. Once more, she hesitantly placed her fingertips perpendicular to his palm as before.

Percy shook his head, “No, I want a prize.”

“A prize…” She said slowly. “I don’t have any prizes…”

“Can you find one then?” Winning without a reward wasn’t like winning at all.

Annabeth frowned, but looked down at the silt, picking up a smoothed stone and handing it over, “Will this do?”

Percy took the rock, wiped the mud off onto his shirt, then examined it from every angle before nodding in satisfaction and tucking it away, “Very nicely, thank you.”

“It was just right next to us, you know.” The girl pointed out, “You could have taken it yourself.”

“But that’s not as fun, is it?” 

“I suppose not.” Annabeth tilted her head, “Does this mean I get a prize if I win next time?”

“Of course,” Percy picked up his stick again, drawing more squiggles, “but I’m very fast, faster than the other boys my age in school. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me.”

“I’m fast too!” She insisted.

Percy smiled at her, holding out the stick for her turn to draw, “You’ll have to prove it next time then. Will you be back tomorrow?”

Annabeth began to carve perfectly straight lines into the mud, brow furrowed in thought; “Perhaps,” She finally said, slowly, “I’m not normally allowed far, but mother and the others are so busy with everything… they may not miss me for another afternoon.”

“Well, couldn’t you just say you’re coming to play?” Percy found a second very-good stick, and added squiggles around Annabeth’s lines; she was still frowning.

“Then she would ask who I was playing with.”

“Couldn’t you tell her you’re playing with me?”

Annabeth shook her head, “We aren’t allowed to play with humans— at least not until we get our legs, and then it’s only on land. They aren’t allowed to see our tails.”

“But you let me see your tail?” Percy pointed out with a smile, meeting her eyes.

The girl’s head tilted to the side, then a slow, slightly-pointy smile spread across her lips in return; “I did, didn’t I? I wonder why I did that…”

”Probably because you could tell I would like it.” He suggested.

“Well, it’s very difficult not to like a tail as pretty as mine.”

“It is.” Percy said earnestly, and a tinge of pink came to Annabeth’s cheeks. “But won’t you get in trouble now that you showed me?”

“Well…” She thought, “Not if I don’t tell mother.”

Percy’s eyes widened, “Lie to her?! Your mother?! ”

“It wouldn't be a lie!” Annabeth flipped her tail out of the pond defensively, “I just… wouldn’t mention you.” She grimaced, scribbling her lines away, “Haven’t you ever kept something from your mother?”

Truthfully, Percy had never given much thought to it. But now that it had been brought up, he realized that yes, sometimes he did keep things from his mother; the time he got into a scrape in the schoolyard with an older boy who was shoving the much smaller children around; the time his appetite demanded sweets so he swiped a handful of hard candies from the shop his mother worked in… and the time he thought he misplaced the nice new shoes she had bought for him for the spring festival. Slowly, Percy accepted the fact that perhaps he wasn’t the perfect child. “Well… I suppose I have.”

“See?” The girl plunged her stick in the ground triumphantly, mud sticking to the ends of her silver-blonde hair and coating the underside of her arms, “So it will be alright, me not telling.”

She was so confident in her proclamation, that Percy couldn’t help but believe her. He dropped from his crouch to sit properly, any thought of keeping his newly darned trousers clean entirely forgotten now. “Then do you think you could stay a bit longer? I could show you some games, if you’d like.”

Annabeth tilted her head, and Percy noticed mud had somehow made its way to her chin too. “What sorts of games—?” Then she cut herself off with a headshake, “I really shouldn’t… if they haven’t noticed I’m gone already, I would like to get back before then. It might be more difficult to come back tomorrow if I’m gone for too long.”

Percy furrowed his brow, disappointed, but brightened again quickly, “Tomorrow, then! Afternoon? We can meet when the sun is about…” He squinted up at the sky, then pointed to a good spot, “right there!”

“That doesn’t seem very exact…” Annabeth pointed to a nearby tree instead, “The shadows, see how long they are now? How about we meet at the lower pond when the shadows are short and going that way—” She directed her finger towards the East. Once more, Percy was impressed by her cleverness.

“Very well. I’ll bring some things for games— we can play pirates, or marbles, or make up a new game maybe. I’m sure you know lots of games too, you can teach them to me.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, “I know some— I made most of them up, but they aren’t all that grand…”

“Don’t be stupid.” Percy caught the flash of anger and hurt in her expression at being called ‘stupid’, and hurried to continue, “I bet they’re better than any silly games we have in town. You’re much smarter than the older kids who make us play what they want to.” 

The little nymph looked surprised, then beamed, tossing muddy hair as she started to slide back into the water proper; “Well I’ll think up some new ones we can try out, so we can play together even if I don’t have legs and you don’t have a tail.”

“I can swim! I’m very good at it!” Percy stood, wiping muddy hands on muddy trousers, “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” She confirmed, a small smile on her lips, “Goodbye, Percy.”

“Goodbye, Miss Annabeth.”

Percy wasn’t sure why he felt the need to call her ‘Miss.’ But his mother once said that it was respectful to use titles like ‘Miss’ and ‘Mister’ and ‘Lady’ and ‘Lord;’ Percy wanted his new friend to feel respected. But she seemed too young for ‘Lady,’ so it would be ‘Miss’ for now.

Annabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, before giving a nervous, bubbly giggle of delight and disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The mad dash home was quick. Percy was so eager for tomorrow to come, he didn’t think to wait until sundown to return like originally planned. All he wanted to do was scarf down supper, dive into his bed, and sleep until it was time to see Annabeth again.

Gabriel was unfortunately still as furious as he had been when Percy ran out of the house earlier; but Percy’s mother took one look at his muddy clothes and face and scraped palms and swooped in with the perfect excuse to shoo Percy to the bath and away from her husband’s ire.

The bath was warm, but as Percy pulled his astrolabe over his head and climbed out of dirty clothes so his mother might wash them, the sound of glass breaking outside the washroom made a chill run through his spine. Gabriel broke things often. Percy missed when their home didn’t include him.

“Why did you marry…?” He asked quietly, and his mother turned, surprise on her face.

“Why did I— oh, Percy, you remember how Gabriel was at first, it wasn’t—”

Percy shook his head quickly, water droplets flying, “No, I mean… why did you do it at all?” At her hesitation, he clarified, “All the stories say step-mothers and step-fathers are evil, you know. So if you didn’t marry, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

She stifled a laugh, sitting on the side of the tub, “Step-parents are people like anyone else. Some good, some bad; the truth in fairytales lie in their messages, not their characters or evil step-parents or fairies or mermaids.”

“Oh.” Percy looked down at the water, watching the grime slowly dissipate from his skin. He told Annabeth he wouldn’t tell… but his mother was good. And honest. And kind. “I met a mermaid today.”

He was met with a fond smile and ruffle of hair, “Really?”

“Really.” Percy confirmed in earnest, “She was very nice.”

“Well it’s good you met a nice mermaid. I’m told they’re fond of devouring the hearts of men, so you must have been lucky.”

Percy sat up in interest, “They do?”

“So the stories claim— but as I just said, dear, the stories say a lot of things, and some of it is simply symbolism or metaphor.”

“Met-a-phor?”

His mother frowned, “What are they teaching you in that school in town?”

Percy shrugged.

“A metaphor is… you use one thing to say something else. If this mermaid you’ve met has been gentle to you, you might say she has a ‘heart of gold.’ Of course that doesn’t mean it’s actually forged from the stuff, but it says that she has a kind demeanor and that’s valuable.”

Percy nodded, slowly understanding, “So is… if there’s an evil step-mother who makes her step-daughter cook and clean and won’t let her go to the ball…?”

“That simply tells us that sometimes bad circumstances we can’t control come about— like a father marrying a cruel woman or… the other way.” She smiled somewhat sadly, “But it’s not our fault when it happens. And we shouldn’t lose our kindness or strength or perseverance in the face of cruelty, because someday… someday things could be better. And we want to make sure we don’t become the things that happened to us.”

This made sense, but that didn’t mean Percy had to like that bad things happened at all. He opened his mouth to say as much, but when he glanced up, his mother had a far away look in her eyes.

“I once thought I met a mermaid.” She said softly, her face suddenly appearing much younger to Percy— which felt odd, because his mother was over 27 now, and that meant she was very, very old.

“Was it?” He asked eagerly, and she shook herself of her reverie.

“No. It wasn’t a mermaid at all.” A sigh, and then she snatched up a washcloth, a sly smile coming to her lips, “Now don’t think you can wriggle out of a proper bath by talking too much. Behind your ears, little man, so you may eat quick and go to bed before your step-father returns home.”

Percy hadn’t realized it, but the sound of Gabriel’s drunken cursing and stomping long since subsided— he must have gone to the pub in town. And with that, he remembered the initial plan; make tomorrow come as soon as possible so he might see Annabeth again. So he scrubbed without complaint, much to mother’s surprise, paying extra attention behind his ears and between his muddy toes.

He was treated to toast and cheese and a small helping of vegetable soup, and then he was in his small room, curled beneath his covers, and dreaming of gold mermaids defeating heart-devouring step-mothers.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“A nymph of the woods such as you were,  in whose eyes alone mankind may study for centuries & grow wiser & purer.”
― Mary Shelley

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world."
— L.M. Montgomery

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Percy woke before Gabriel— this wasn’t particularly difficult to achieve, as he often slept in. Percy’s understanding was that alcohol made him tired and hard to wake, which was perfectly decent of it to keep the man unconscious and away from himself and his mother.

Even so, the hour was early enough that even mother was surprised when he scampered into the kitchen, already dressed in fresh clothing and pulling his astrolabe on.

“Well someone is eager for the day.” She smiled despite her bewilderment, going to fetch a bottle of milk from the ice box, “You don’t have school today, dear. Is there a special occasion?”

Percy was already stuffing his pockets with oranges from the basket on the table, “I’m seeing my friend.”

“Oh?”

“You know, the one I mentioned last night?” 

His mother’s eyes twinkled, “Ah, of course. Are you meeting so early?”

Percy paused, “Well… no, not until after noon.” He admitted, “But I want to go early and wait for her!”

“Punctuality is very admirable, Perseus, but I’m afraid arriving nearly six hours early is a recipe for boredom.” She reached to pull his slate and chalk off the top of a cupboard, and Percy groaned.

“But mom—!”

“Breakfast, then your arithmetic practice, then reading, and if you get it all finished on time I will pack you a picnic to bring along for you and your little friend. Now put all those oranges back.”

This was agreeable, so Percy emptied his pockets back out and hopped onto his chair at the table to start filling out his slate with all the numbers and pluses and minuses he could think of. It was when his mother set a plate in front of him laden with eggs and ham and toast that Gabriel finally lumbered from the back of the house, reeking and grumbling.

He didn’t seem ugly at first, when Percy was small and he wasn’t his step-father yet. Gabriel was large, yes, but nothing about his features had been particularly off putting. He was just an average man, one who owned the carpentry shop in town and used to bring Percy’s mother flowers.

But then Percy learned how a wicked heart could twist features. It wasn’t a big belly or a squashed nose or thinning hair or splotchy skin that made a person visually unpalatable; it was the way those attributes stretched over the mass of darkness barely contained beneath. 

He swayed in the doorway, frowning vaguely as his eyes adjusted.

“Where’s m’ eggs, Sally”

“Already done.” She placed the fresh plate and a steaming mug of coffee on the wooden counter of the kitchen, and while Gabriel did sit on the stool there to eat, his eyes fixed themselves on Percy at the table, trying to finish his additions before digging in.

“What are ya doin’, boy.” His questions never sounded like questions; they were statements.

“He’s doing schoolwork.” Sally responded, and Percy was relieved.

Gabriel snorted, “The boy doesn’ need schoolin’. It’s not right, making men learn things; we’re made f’r physical work— we don’ need a pansy who does thinkin’ an’ the like.”

“And you said women don’t need to learn or think either, just cook and clean— so who should be attending school then?” Sally’s voice was gentle, light, but Percy could hear the contempt where Gabriel could not. 

His face screwed up in confusion. Then he seemed to give up on even addressing her question at all; “We don’ need him endin’ up like tha’ crackpot Chase. Man’s a lunatic.”

“Eat up dear, you said you wanted to open the shop today.”

Luckily, Gabriel never wasted any time devouring his food, and he was out the door soon enough— likely to take a nap behind the machines of his shop.

Sally was true to her word: Percy had to spend most of his morning solving simple equations and struggling through one of his mother’s books; reading was hard. The words never seemed to be where they were supposed to, and often letters were reduced to incoherent scribbles before he could even finish a single sentence.

But the book was interesting enough— fables, folklore, and fairy stories from places Percy had never even heard of.

There was one about a little boy who refused to go to bed on time with his mother— a fairy tumbled out of the fireplace as he played, and introduced herself as “My Own Self.” The boy said he was also “Just My Own Self,” and they decided to play together— but when he stoked the hearth and an ember landed on the fairy’s foot, she screeched until her mother’s voice came from down the chimney to demand what happened. As the boy hid in fear, the fairy explained she was hurt by “Just My Own Self,” was reprimanded for causing such a fuss, and scooped up by a giant arm.

The boy went to bed on time happily from then on.

Percy could see why his mother enjoyed it. He wasn’t always the best son at bedtime.

But still, the hours felt horribly slow, and so when his mother finally called him to the kitchen with a basket of sandwiches, oranges, and a bottle of freshly squeezed juice, he all but sprinted  from his chair, book still in hand.

“There’s a blanket, but make sure not to spread it in the mud.” She instructed, “And be home before dark, and no swimming alone.”

Percy frowned, “But I won’t be alone. My friend will be there, remember?”

Sally hesitated, “Of course, yes, but it isn’t safe to swim in those ponds without adults around, do you understand?”

This was confusing, as Percy felt a mermaid would be a far better swimmer than any human grown-up, but he accepted the basket and then glanced at the book in hand, “May I take this to read to her?”

His mother brightened in surprise; Percy had never asked to read before. “You may. Just be careful with it, alright?”

And then he was off. He was made to wear shoes this time, but he didn’t mind so much, and the trip didn’t come with any injuries. Even so, Percy arrived early. Annabeth must not be here yet.

But as he approached one of the flat stones to spread the blanket for the picnic, he was surprised and delighted to see a silver head already there, arms resting on the rocks. She perked up, and Percy grinned at her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Annabeth.”

Her face flushed, but she nodded to him, “Afternoon.” Annabeth’s eyes flashed to his basket, “What’s that?”

“Lunch!” Percy set the basket on the ground, fetching the blanket from within, “Have you had sandwiches before?” Annabeth shook her head, so Percy continued, “I suppose they would fall apart if you tried to make them underwater… how about oranges?” Another headshake, and Percy looked amazed, “Lemonade?”

Annabeth huffed, “No.”

“What do you eat then? My mother said mermaids like human hearts. Do you wish to eat mine?”

She made a face, “Um… no. That sounds thoroughly unpleasant—and likely messy.” Annabeth thought a moment, “Fish… We eat fish. And plants. And sometimes the older ones in our pod, the ones with legs, come back with fruits and treats, but never oranges.”

Percy laid out their feast, then placed a sandwich in front of Annabeth— they had cheese and spiced meats and some other condiments his mother had added in, all atop fresh baked bread. “Go on, try it.”

Annabeth picked it up, mirroring how Percy held his own sandwich, then after a suspicious look down, she bit into the sandwich. It wasn’t the large reaction Percy hoped for, but after some pensive chewing, she nodded in approval, “It’s interesting… the outside is like a sponge,” her fingers pressed into the bread, “But the inside is different… and there are so many tastes.”

“Try an orange next!” Annabeth put down the sandwich to accept the fruit, which she immediately raised to her mouth to bite into, peel and all. “No no! Not like that!” Percy lifted his orange, digging a nail into the rind, “You gotta get rid of the outside first. It’ll taste bad otherwise.”

Annabeth watched, then did as he showed; she was immediately better at it, her nails longer and fingers more dexterous. “It smells very good, doesn’t it?”

Percy nodded, tugging a slice off his fruit, and Annabeth once more copied him, looking surprised this time; “How strange! It’s like a package, isn’t it? Wrapping on the outside, the inside already cut into pieces for eating…”

“It’s neat, there’s a merchant in town who brings all sorts of things from the southern countries that don’t grow here.” Percy crossed his legs, sticky juice dripping down his chin and between his fingers, “Have you been south?”

“Mmhmm.” Annabeth nodded, “We go to our winter home in the southern seas when it’s too cold here.”

“Is it nice there?”

“Very,” she confirmed, switching from her orange to her sandwich and back again between bites, “It’s clear, and bright… the water is this color it’s… well, something like your eyes, actually. Nearly the same.”

Percy puffed up a bit. He very much liked his eyes; the green of them was complimented often by adults, though there was always a hint of disquiet in their tone when they said it— they were too bright, too intense, nearly a glow. There weren’t many in town with eyes like his. “Maybe I ought to go there some time, when I’m an adventurer.”

“Oh! You should, I think you’d like it.” Annabeth watched Percy lift the bottle of lemonade to his lips, and she held out her hand expectantly. He passed her the juice. “It’s almost always sunny, and the fish are more colorful, and the reefs, and flowers… And the people there are always playing music.” She pressed the opening to her mouth, then tilted back.

The lemonade ran out the sides of her mouth in streams, and the girl’s eyes widened, jerking back up and staring at the bottle in disbelief, “I— it’s… what is that taste…?!”

Percy tilted his head, “How do you mean?” 

“It’s… it’s almost like the orange, but… so different. Sweet, and bitter, but not in an icky way— it makes my mouth want to… to…”

“Do this?” Percy puckered his face dramatically, and Annabeth laughed. 

“Yes, just like that!”

“It’s sour, that’s why— and lemons are family with oranges.”

“It’s very good.” She took another messy drink. Percy figured drinking from bottles or cups wasn’t common for merfolk.

“I brought something else.” Percy held up the book with a smile.

“A book!” Annabeth cried, pulling herself out of the water to seat herself properly at the edge of the rock, the end of her silver tail remaining in the pond, “Oh, it’s wonderful! I found one once— but it fell apart when I tried to bring it home, and the pictures all smeared.”

“Well, I can read this one to you and show you the pictures, so it doesn’t get ruined.”

Annabeth stared at him, “You can read?”

Percy felt his ears burn, “Of course I can read! It… everyone can!”

The mermaid frowned, her voice suddenly quiet, “I can’t.”

“...Oh.” Percy suddenly felt poorly, desperate to cheer her up, “Well, if it helps, I’m not very good at it.”

“I want to learn.” Annabeth sighed, “Mother knows, she’s taught me letters, and many of the other older folk can read too… But it’s difficult to teach before I have my legs. I don’t want to wait to learn, but I’m afraid I haven’t much choice—”

“I can teach you.” Percy jumped in, shifting to sit next to her so they could both see the pages, “See here, that’s…” He squinted, “An… ‘e.’”

Annabeth tilted her head, “Is it not an ‘a’?”

“...Oh, right, yes. Like I said, I’m not very good… the letters can get all jumbled.”

“How about we help each other then? I know the letters, you know the sounds… so I’ll tell you what they are, and you can tell me how to say them.”

This seemed like a grand idea to Percy, so they settled in, sounding things out and him showing Annabeth how the different combinations could change the pronunciations. She picked it up relatively quickly, probably aided by existing knowledge of vocabulary— it was easy to guess what a word might be if one could already say it.

Of course, this became boring after a bit, so Percy leaned back to read her a proper story. It helped that he already knew it, so where words were hard to make out he could supply an approximation of the phrasing from his own head.

Annabeth interrupted him; “What does it mean when it says ‘she had a siren’s voice?’ The story didn’t say anything about her being a siren.”

“It’s met-a-phor!” Percy declared, proud that he could put his new knowledge to use, “See, siren’s voices are pretty, so saying she had one means it was just as pretty! It’s not for real— oh! Like saying ‘you have a tail like a baby frog,’ but it’s not actually like a frog’s, see? Metaphor.”

“Oh, I see… so it’s telling you things, but saying them in a different way than they actually are?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

Percy’s brow furrowed, “Um… because… I’m not sure.”

“They could just say what they mean.”

“Maybe they just want to make what they mean sound prettier.”

“I suppose that’s a good reason.”

Soon the two finished the story, even with Percy stumbling through. The lemonade was gone, though a fair amount was splashed in the pond rather than consumed, and the food was in content bellies. They lounged in the bits of sun rays that shone between tree branches and through leaves. 

But once the lethargy of the nice meal wore off, Percy sat up, “Want to race again?”

Annabeth yawned, “Alright then. I know the way now, so it feels more fair.”

“What shall we compete for?” He got on his knees, hunting around for a suitable prize; perhaps a shiny stone, or a leaf, or—

“What’s this?” Something else caught Annabeth’s eye, her pale hand stretching to touch the small gold astrolabe that had fallen from within Percy’s collar. He fought the urge to jerk back. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It looks like something.” Her gray eyes were fixed on it, even as Percy tucked the chain back under his shirt, “I want it.”

Percy’s stomach dropped, “You can’t have it!”

“But if we raced for it,” Annabeth insisted, “Then wouldn’t it be alright?”

“Well… I…” He felt sick. He didn’t want to give up his astrolabe… but he beat Annabeth easily last time. And he didn’t want to seem like a baby. “Alright then. Same as last time?”

Annabeth nodded, her eyes glittering, “Ready?”

“...Go!” Percy shouted, and he took off, Annabeth diving beneath the surface.

He scrambled up the ridge, desperate to make it to the larger pond first. He had to. If he didn’t…

The top was in sight, and he hefted himself over, landing on the grass and racing to the pond in the distance; he was almost there, he was going to do it—!

A silver head popped up, and Percy’s heart sank as he skidded to a stop beside the water.

“I did it! I won!” Annabeth crowed triumphantly, splashing about in the water. “It was so much easier this time, knowing the turns to take— oh that was fun, can we—?” Her voice died when she caught sight of Percy’s face.

He was gulping for breath, fat tears filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks as a whimpering sob escaped. He told Annabeth the day before that he didn’t cry, but now he didn’t even care to hide it or wipe the tears away— she won and she was going to take his most treasured thing from him. Percy clutched at his astrolabe, crying loudly now, unable to stop.

Annabeth’s eyes widened as she paddled to him, “Oh, oh, oh— oh no, I’m sorry Percy, I didn’t— I didn’t know that I’d upset you by winning, you can win next time, I promise it—”

Percy shook his head, moving to lift the chain over his head. It was a tragedy, but he agreed to it, and even at nine years old, Percy was a man of his word.

Annabeth caught on, raising her hand, “Oh Percy, I don’t need it! If it’s special to you—”

“B-but I… I said I—”

“I don’t wish for it any longer.” Annabeth declared firmly, “So please don’t cry. I hate to see you sad— I don’t want it.”

Relief flooded him, and Percy let the astrolabe drop again, rubbing at his eyes with hiccups, “Thank you… I— it’s very important, you see…” He glanced around, then stooped to pick up an impressively large leaf; “H-here… for a prize.”

Annabeth accepted it graciously, “Thank you. It’s very pretty… shall we go back down? It’s easier to sit there…”

The two met back at their picnic, Percy’s eyes mostly dry now, and they sat quietly.

“I’m sorry I asked for it.” Annabeth said again.

“It was my father’s.” Percy said back with a shaky breath.

Annabeth tilted her head, “He gave it to you?”

“No… he… he gave it to my mother, before leaving…” Percy sniffled again, “He’s… he’s not around anymore.”

“Oh.” Annabeth’s fluke twitched, splashing droplets on them out of the pond. “I don’t have a father either.”

“Because he’s human…?” Percy asked quietly, and Annabeth nodded.

“I mean, I have one, but I’ve never met him. My mother says he lives over there;” Annabeth pointed in the direction of the village, and Percy’s eyes widened.

“He does?!”

“Mmhmm.”

“Who is he?”

“Mother says his family name is ‘Chase,’ but that’s all she will tell me.

Percy knew this name; Professor Chase, the local inventor, and a man widely regarded as both a genius and insane. “Why doesn’t he come visit you?”

Annabeth tugged on a lock of hair in annoyance— Percy noticed it was beginning to dry. It was curly. And the more it dried, the more gold it appeared, rather than silver. He liked it. “Well I don’t know! Why doesn’t yours visit you?!”

“Likely because he’s dead.” Percy said flatly, and Annabeth flushed pink.

“...I’m sorry.” She moped, wrapping her arms around her tail like one might do with their knees, resting her chin on it glumly, “I don’t think mine knows about me at all.”

“Why wouldn’t your mother tell him…?”

“I don’t know. We don’t tell humans a lot of things. Most of us only know one of our parents.”

“Like me.” Percy felt comforted that there were beings that could relate, that this was normal. Some of the village children and his schoolmates teased him for not knowing who his father was.

“What is it, anyway?”

“What is what?”

“The thing—” She pointed at the instrument around his neck, and Percy lifted it and moved closer so she might examine it without him having to take it off— they were only inches apart now, and he could see little flecks of silver scales along her temple, along with some light freckles over her nose. She was very pretty, even from this close.

He managed to remember her question, “It’s an astrolabe.”

“And what does it do?”

“For looking at stars and figuring out the time and stuff.” He shrugged, “Sometimes people navigate with them, though most use a sextant for that— my father left one of those too, but I can’t wear it around my neck so my mother won’t let me take it out of the house. She fears I may lose it if I do.”

“It’s wonderful.” Annabeth sighed wistfully, fingers tracing the details and dials, “I wish I could have something like it.”

“Maybe I can find you something.”

“Something mechanical?” Annabeth perked up in interest, and Percy nodded, eager to please her.

“Yes! I know just the thing, too— I can bring it tomorrow?” Then his face fell, “Though… perhaps you won’t be able to come, tomorrow…?”

Annabeth smiled, “I… I think I can slip away again, for a bit.”

Percy’s heart soared, “I’ll bring it then! Though… maybe I should be going home now. My mother will be worried if I’m out too long…”

“Mine too.” They fell quiet, neither moving to leave. They laughed. “Maybe just a little longer?”

“I think that would be alright.”

They sat side by side; Percy taught Annabeth to play a schoolyard counting game with their fingers, and Annabeth showed him a merfolk game with various hand signs and signals.

“We really can only speak above water— which is fine, because we have many safe places to surface and relax and things.” Annabeth explained, “But underwater, we have a different language— see, if you move your fingers like this;” she positioned his hand, “It means ‘safe.’ And this—” She moved her hands and arms in tandem in a quick gesture, “It’s ‘good morning.’”

“Wow…” Percy was intrigued, “But isn’t that limiting? How can you have a whole conversation with just your hands?”

Annabeth looked at him strangely, “It’s just the same as any language, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Percy said doubtfully, “Could you show me a sentence?”

Annabeth faced her torso to him, making a variety of gestures, lip movements, and facial expressions.

“What does that mean?” He asked, mesmerized.

“I said ‘this is a very silly thing to have to prove, and I’m mad you made me.’” She retorted, though she was smiling, an almost shy tease sparkling in her eyes. 

Percy laughed, “Okay, yes, maybe that was stupid of me to not believe.” He slowly moved his fingers to the same position she had shown; ‘safe.’ “Do you… can you teach me?” He asked.

“Well, you’re teaching me to read, so it only seems fair.”

At last, they couldn't postpone farewells nor returning to their respective worlds any longer. Percy promised once more to bring her a gift the next day, and the way Annabeth tried to hide the giddiness in her face only made him all the more excited to please her further.

Then she dove below the surface, and Percy collected his things and strolled home.

His mother welcomed him back, seeming surprised to find the lunch completely devoured. Percy thought this strange— she had prepared the perfect amount of lunch for two, in his opinion. Maybe she thought the mermaid wouldn’t like sandwiches.

Gabriel returned home late, and fell asleep even later. But Percy waited until he heard his snores, and the light of his mother’s candle was snuffed out, no longer visible beneath the door; he crept from bed slowly, carefully, padding into his parents’ room.

There was a chest at the foot of their bed, and it was there Percy went, sliding his hand beneath the mattress until he felt a key. Gabriel wasn’t very smart, keeping the key right beside the chest, but that was all the better for Percy as he turned it and lifted the lid to peer inside.

It was dark, but his eyes could ever so slightly make out the round shadow of a pocket watch atop the various garments his parents’ saved for special occasions. 

The watch was snatched by nimble fingers, the chest closed, locked, key returned under the mattress, and Percy tip-toed back to bed, heart beating fast— but it was worth it when he imagined how happy Annabeth would be to have it.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?[...]
I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.
No.”
― Harold Monro

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“...or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to say for certain what had been happening. It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.”
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

The way Annabeth squealed in delight when Percy presented her with the shiny gold pocket watch was indeed worth any fear of retribution from Gabriel.

“Oh it’s wonderful!” She cried, turning it this way and that, and when Percy reached out and pressed the button to release the hinged cover, Annabeth’s shrill gasp made his head feel warm and full of cotton. Or clouds… something soft and fluffy.

“It tells time.” He told her, puffing out his chest, “So now we can say just when to meet— we won’t have to use shadows anymore.”

She beamed at him, tracing every curve of the various designs carved into the metal, “Thank you, I… I’ve never received anything like it before.” Annabeth let Percy slip the gold chain over her head, then held the watch to his astrolabe, “We match now, don’t we?”

“We do, I think. Friends are supposed to match, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are.” Annabeth responded confidently, still admiring her prize.

Percy watched her a moment, the droplets of water that clung to long lashes, the smile that gave the smallest hint of those sharper than normal canines, fingers he only now noticed were slightly webbed…

She looked up suddenly, jolting him from his admiration, “Did you bring games today?”

“Oh! Of course, here—” Percy slung the canvas sack from his shoulder to dig through, “I brought my slate if we want to play drawing games, um, tin knights, marbles—”

“Did you bring the book back?” Annabeth rested her chin on folded arms, gray eyes shining up at him expectantly. Percy swallowed.

“Um, I-I did, but I…” he trailed off, not wanting to disappoint her; but all the reading the day before had strained his eyes and hurt his head. He feared his skills would be poorer today, the words extra floaty, and he couldn’t really recite many from memory, “...um. We can try reading later, if you’d like?”

“Mmhmm!” The sea nymph nodded excitedly, before her gaze dropped and her eyes widened, “Pearls!”

Percy’s own eyes flickered down to his hand, and he grinned, “No, marbles!” He placed them carefully on the flat stone so that they would not roll into the water, “If they were pearls I’d be the richest man in town. I could buy my mother a whole new house, and have chocolate cake every day, and—”

“Why would they make you rich?” Annabeth carefully plucked up a shimmering blue-green marble, “They’re only pearls.”

“Pearls are rare, you see—”

Annabeth scoffed through her nose, “They are not, we have loads of them.”

Percy gaped at her, “You… you do?! ”

She nodded, “Of course. We use them for everything— mother will braid them into my hair, or they will be added to our combs, or in the netting and leaves the older women sometimes wear… They’re very pretty, I suppose, but they’re not worth more than that.”

“But… but don’t they take years and years and years to um… form?” Percy squinted, trying to remember his lessons… something to do with sand and clams…?

Annabeth shrugged, picking up a new marble to examine, “Sure, but there’s plenty of clams to make them. It’s not as if they all start at the same time and we have to wait years and years— it’s just a matter of politely asking them to open their shells when done, so we might pluck them out and remove their discomfort.”

“You… you can talk to clams?!”

“Not truly.” Annabeth dunked a handful of marbles in the water, pulling them back up to watch how the moisture caught the light in new ways, “But most know what different taps and clicks mean. It’s more of a trained thing, than something they understand. But I like to be polite.”

Percy couldn’t help himself from giving her a teasing grin, “You do? You don’t seem very polite.”

She lowered the marbles, eyes narrowing, “...I’m incredibly proper.”

“A true lady,” He agreed, “but you’re sometimes rather bossy.”

“I am not!” Annabeth pouted, glowering up at him, Percy’s stare defiant in return. But in moments the two burst into giggles, unable to keep up their serious expressions. “You just seem to be in need of being bossed around, and I’m nice enough to do just that for you.”

“I don’t!” Percy protested with another peal of laughter, “That’s very silly— who would like being ordered to do things?” He reached down to the marbles, “Now stop touching things while I set things up!”

Annabeth made him say ‘please’ before she would oblige, and she quickly caught on to the games. He showed off his tin soldiers, telling her excitedly about how a boy at school had brass ones that were very nice looking. He showed her his slate and chalk, which Annabeth seemed to very much like, and as they did the past two days, they raced.

Annabeth easily beat him again, but Percy was more than happy to allow her to pick a marble as her prize. She plucked up a shimmering purple one, tucking it into a fabric pocket Percy had not noticed tied around her waist before.

They read some— Percy’s head ached just looking at the pages; but despite never admitting it, Annabeth seemed to sense he was having more trouble, so she asked to try reading it out loud on her own. She sounded out words with Percy piping up when she struggled with pronunciation. Percy taught Annabeth how to tell time. They ate a snack of goat cheese and berries Sally had packed for them, and that was their afternoon.

Their summer followed suit.

Nearly every day they managed to meet, if only for an hour or so. Annabeth would show him treasures she found lost in the streams, and Percy would name them for her; a spring, a key, some buttons, a wallet with a few coins— she let him have the coins, and the next day Percy brought her sweets purchased with the money. She very much liked the chocolates in particular.

She also picked up reading so fast that soon she was the one regularly reading Percy stories out of the books he brought. He didn’t mind in the slightest. Her voice was nicer than his own anyway.

They raced, of course, though Annabeth won almost every time. Percy suspected the few times he had won was her letting him, but he couldn’t complain when she gifted him pretty shells as prizes.

They’d swim, Percy stripping to his knickers and diving in, the two splashing and pretending to be pirates, or that Percy was merfolk too, or Annabeth would teach him games she played with the southern adolescent mers in the Winters.

Sometimes they planned to meet, but the pond was not a private one— every other weekend or so there would be other children splashing about, screaming and giggling, and the two would have to wait until they left. Sometimes they stayed too long, and Percy and Annabeth would have to hope for the next day.

Occasionally Annabeth wouldn’t show up— her mother wouldn’t allow her to slip away. Annabeth explained that she’d been telling her mother that she was visiting a nice quiet pool when she wished to be alone. Evidently this explanation was accepted, but Percy wondered what life in the pod must be like if Annabeth’s mother was willing to believe her young daughter liked to spend hours alone every day.

Gabriel, as expected, eventually realized his watch was missing; there was a Midsummer festival in town, and so the chest of finery was opened up, and the theft discovered.

And as expected, he blamed Percy.

Not that he was wrong, but Percy was a bit miffed that he was the one to be shouted at when there was no evidence that Gabriel hadn’t simply misplaced it, as Sally suggested. Percy insisted that he hadn’t taken the trinket; he didn’t know it existed, didn’t know where it was kept, and didn’t know where the key was, anyway.

Mother taught him never to lie, but perhaps men like Gabriel sometimes deserved to be stolen from and lied to. At least, that’s how Percy rationalized it.

The days passed. Officially, fall was still a few months away— summers were long in their town, and the chill generally arrived later than it did further north. But classes would be starting soon.

There were some good things about school. For one, it meant Grover would be back.

Percy’s best friend in the whole world was Grover Underwood. Well, perhaps that title was now tied between him and Annabeth, but all the same, Percy missed Grover dearly.

The Underwoods were farm workers, and in the Spring and Summer they’d travel to the numerous surrounding areas to assist in harvesting crops and caring for livestock. They were incredibly good at it. There were rumors of magic in their hands, something that made the strawberries they touched redder and sweeter than any others, or the goats they raised produce the best milk to churn into the smoothest butter, or even age into the finest of cheeses.

But this meant that Percy was without the only child in town who didn’t laugh at him, or push him, or look at him funny for several months out of the year.

Now it was a matter of weeks before Grover returned for schooling, as his family relaxed during the winter.

It seemed rather unfair that Annabeth would be leaving so soon after Grover arrived; Percy wondered if he’d be allowed to introduce the two. Then the three of them could have lots of fun, all together, and he’d have two best friends.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

At the start of each school year, the students would come in a few weeks before class began to take a much dreaded test; this was to determine how much they dedicated to their studies over the Summer, and determine if they were to move into a higher course or repeat classes from the previous year.

It wasn’t a very large town, nor a very big school, so Percy wasn’t sure why they bothered with silly things like this. The system was created in the far larger cities in the west, meant for the giant academies, well populated with several generations of students at once.

That, and he simply did not wish to spend a day reading and writing and doing arithmetic when he could be splashing about with Annabeth.

There was a welcome midday break between testing, and Percy sat on the stones around the children’s recreational area to watch everyone else; some jump roping, some reading (even after knowing Annabeth, it astounded Percy that people read for fun ), others tossing around a leather ball.

And then there were the bigger kids.

They stood in a corner of the school yard. One of them must have pilfered cigars from their parents, because they were passing around a few of them, some puffing the smoke like champs, and some choking back coughing fits as their friends cackled at their discomfort.

Percy generally tried to avoid them, with good reason. Clarisse La Rue was the meanest kid he had ever met, which was really saying something because he had come across a lot of them.

She always had the hardest punches, the biggest sneers, and the cruelest voice.

So when the taller, older girl sauntered over with a few of her goons, Percy did his best to pretend not to see them at all.

“Hey, Jackson.”

He didn’t look up.

“Jackson, we’re talking to you.”

Percy wouldn’t acknowledge them, far too interested in a wood chip he was scratching absently against the brick—that is, until a fist bunched his collar and yanked him up, forcing his gaze.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Jackson!” She growled. Perhaps from an adult it would be more scary. Coming from a thirteen year old… well it made her imposing figure suddenly seem much smaller.

“What is it?” Percy asked tiredly, voice heavy with an age he wouldn’t reach for decades.

“Chris said he saw you in our cave.”

Percy’s brow furrowed, “You have a cave?”

Clarisse dropped him into the wood chips with a scoff, “Yeah, idiot. The cave you keep going in”

Oh. The cave behind the waterfall, where Annabeth would make her way down to see him.

He vaguely recalled ducking inside once or twice when the pond itself was filled with laughing children and teenagers, meeting quietly with Annabeth to plan to meet up the next day if the coast was clear.

Percy shrugged, “Okay.”

This was not the response Clarisse seemed to be hoping for, as she kicked him in the shin in frustration, “Ugh, does your brain even work?! Don’t go in there, it’s ours! It’s off limits.”

The pain caused a jolt of anger to flash through Percy, “It’s not yours! It belongs to—“ by all rights, the cave really belonged to Annabeth. She got more use out of it than anyone else, but he couldn’t exactly say that, could he? “…someone else.” He finished lamely, some of the fire dying in his throat.

“Oh yeah?” Clarisse raised a brow, glancing at her sneering posse, “Belongs to who, twit?”

Percy kept his mouth clamped shut.

Clarisse laughed, “Oh, did your real family finally come to get you?”

Percy stiffened.

He knew the rumors about him. He knew what they said. And as silly as they were, baseless, rooted in fairy stories, they still hurt.

“Think they came to get the baby they switched at birth?” Chris Rodriguez at her side laughed, “But looks like they didn’t want you either, since you’re still here.”

His legs felt weak, but Percy forced himself to stand anyway, his small fists balled up at his sides, “Th-that’s not true! My mom is my real family!”

“As if a normal kid could have eyes like yours, all bright and creepy.” The group cackled and snorted around him while Clarisse leaned in, “They say the faeries prefer to take bastards, you know?”

Percy glowered up at her, shaking as his small body tried to contain more fury than it could handle, “I-I’m not switched, I have this to prove it!” He insisted, clutching his Astrolabe and hating the way Clarisse was eyeing it. She’d tried to take it before. But this time, he had to make his mother proud, had to try to be the bigger person, be good—

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” a redhead on Clarisse’s left piped up, “Maybe he’s got himself a little pixie girlfriend.”

“More like a troll if she lives in a cave.” Chris countered with a snicker.

“D-don’t talk about her that way!”

The group froze, eyes turning back to the much smaller boy in surprise, and then terrible delight.

“Oho, Jackson, you have a cave troll?”

“No! She’s not— no!” He protested, but they were already rolling with it.

“If not a troll, maybe a creepy little fuzzy thing with wings— my Ma is always goin’ on about creepy little fuzzy things with wings.”

“That’s a moth, stupid! Maybe it’s a spriggan!”

“Or a creepy little changeling like him!”

“A hag!”

“Goblin!”

“It’s a pond, maybe he’s got himself a mermaid.”

“No!” Percy yelped out, though his outcry went momentarily ignored as Clarisse dealt a firm swat to the back of the head of the goon who suggested it.

“Mermaids are pretty . As if he could get someone pretty. ”

“No they aren’t!” The kid, Ethan, doubled down, “Dad says they’re all ugly and gross, on account of eating people all the time—“

“Then why would people go near them in the first place?” Asked Chris.

“Because it’s their voice that tricks them, dummy!”

Clarisse thought this over, then grinned, looking down at Percy, “Well whatever he has in there— cave troll, goblin, man eating mermaid— I think we ought to do our civic duty, ay’ lads?”

There were hums of affirmation.

“We don’t want to kill whatever it is, bet we could sell it to the circus, but Nancy’s Da has got some nets so we can—“

Percy did something he had promised his mother never to do after a particular incident a few years ago.

He punched Clarisse in the face.

Considering his size, height, and that he’d never thrown a proper punch, it was a good one. The girl stumbled back, her gang gasping as she clutched her nose. Percy stared at her defiantly— he knew what was to come next, but he didn’t feel afraid. He only felt satisfaction. Because maybe they were joking, maybe they were just being terrible teenagers, and they were certainly trying to get under his skin…

But no one was going to talk about Annabeth like that, threaten her like that, in front of him. Even if they didn’t know who she was, that she was real— Percy would protect her, no matter what.

She’d asked him to keep her secret, and so that’s what he would do.

So when he saw the fist draw back, the arm swing, he didn’t so much as flinch when skin met skin.

It wasn’t the only hit he endured that day, but it was the only one that mattered to Percy, a badge of purple and black over his eye that he wore proudly all the way home. It was a testament to the lengths he’d go for those he cared about; what was a punch or two, if it meant he stood up for something?

His mother was frantic, of course, then upset when Percy admitted to throwing the first hit, but the expression she made when he explained that it was to protect his mermaid friend confused him.

Because she looked confused, and she shouldn’t; he’d told her all about Annabeth, recounting many of their romps over supper, his mother laughing and clapping her hands in delight when he reenacted their adventures.

But his bewilderment passed quickly in favor of holding the bag of ice over his eye while Sally went to find him a sweet treat, a prize for standing up for a friend.

Percy felt good— great, even!

So maybe his eye was blackened, arms bruised, and his stomach hurt from a particularly nasty swing to the gut, but he would take a million more shiners if it meant keeping Annabeth safe.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

″‘I will be brave,’ thought Despereaux. ‘I will try to be brave like a knight in shining armor. I will be brave for Princess Pea.‘”
— Kate DiCamillo

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“She is the nymph who keeps enticing me the sailor every time!”  
― Avijeet Das

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“What have you done to your face?!” Annabeth cried out when Percy showed up the next day, grinning like a maniac with a paper-wrapped chocolate pound cake in hand.

“Ran into a few pirates— but it’s okay, I got rid of them.” He waved his hand dismissively, “But mom made me this as a reward for being brave, so we can share!”

Percy unwrapped the cake, and he and Annabeth sat together, picking off bits and pieces, her eyes widening at the taste and hums of delight escaping here and there; but she continued to glance at his eye, worried. Percy suspected Annabeth hadn’t bought his explanation about pirates; she wouldn’t still be so concerned if it was pirates.

“What should we do today?” He asked, licking his fingers, “We can race, or play adventurers, or… oh, I brought my card deck, I can teach you how to—“

Annabeth shook her head with pursed lips, “I-I can’t stay long today, mother says I’ve been leaving too often, and she’s suspicious of how much time I spend away from everyone.” Her frown deepened as she reached for the timepiece that hung around her neck. “Really I just came to say hello and see if you could fix this…”

Percy leaned down to look at the pocket watch. “Oh no… did it stop, then?”

She nodded sadly, “I think… I think it may not have been meant for water.” Annabeth gnawed anxiously at her lips— she must have been doing that quite a bit lately, as they were a bright, blotchy red against the pale color of her skin and eyes and hair and… well, everything. “You can fix it, can’t you?”

Her faith in him that clung like a mist to her voice had Percy’s heart sinking, and he carefully lifted the watch to examine from all sides, suddenly desperate not to disappoint her.

“Hmm…” he couldn’t lie, but an idea struck him. “I can’t, but… I know someone who likely can!” Percy smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring, and the relief that spread through Annabeth’s face confirmed his success.

“Really?”

“Yup! If it’s okay, I can take it to him. He knows loads of stuff.”

Annabeth quickly tugged the chain over her head, handing it to Percy and thanking him profusely, practically glowing with hope that her treasure might work again 

They finished the cake, said their goodbyes, and Percy made his way to the man he was certain would know what to do.

Professor Chase’s windmill was at the very edge of town; his reputation was an odd one, built on both respect for what he did for the village, and the fact that he was such an eccentric person that most didn’t care to be in conversation with him for more than a few minutes at most.

Percy, not having ever experienced the respect bit, but familiar with being seen as strange, didn’t think twice about marching up to the windmill and knocking on the door.

His stomach churned when he remembered this was Annabeth’s father.

A minute passed, and no one came, so Percy knocked again more insistently.

And then again, a minute later.

And then again—

The door finally swung open mid-knock, a thin man in spectacles and somewhat wild blonde hair threw open the door and stared right over Percy’s head with confusion. And then his eyeline dropped to the boy’s level, surprise registering on his face as he took in the child. It was almost as if he’d never seen anyone under the age of 16 before.

“Hello Professor Chase.” Percy started politely, “I need—“

The man shook his head vigorously, “No, no no, I have made it expressly clear that I will not be purchasing chocolates or cookies or whatever capitalistic endeavor it is your classes are pushing you to do—“

“I’m not selling anything.” Percy spoke evenly. He didn’t trust most adults— usually he avoided eye contact, shuffled his feet, mumbled or spoke far too quickly, or got angry; but this man was so… 

Unintimidating.

The professor too, avoided eye contact, which made Percy more confident in his own gaze. The man fidgeted, he was jumpy, distracted, and he didn’t seem to even perceive Percy beyond vaguely knowing he was there. It was easy to grow to fill the vacuum this man’s presence created.

Professor Chase paused, scratching his head, “Well, ah… is it your parents? Have they sent you to request some elaborate invention to cook meals for your mother, or do your father’s job so he can laze away the day? Because I will not do it—“

“No.”

The simplicity and finality of the ‘’no” seemed to drag this man back into his body, and he fixed his pale eyes on Percy with a frown. “…Well, then, I… whatever are you here for, boy?”

Percy held the chain straight out in his fist, the watch dangling.

The Professor stared for a moment, eyes watching it swing erratically, then sighed, “A simple fix then? Yes, I ought to be able to do such a thing— come on in, then, I’ll have it working and you can be on your way.”

Stepping inside the windmill was like stepping into another world entirely.

It was filled with whirring machines, gadgets that bobbed and spun, cogs clicking, tables cluttered with bits of brass and springs and bolts and so much more Percy couldn’t comprehend. The center of the windmill was turning, but rather than grinding down grain or pumping water, it seemed to be powering the rest of the workshop. He gazed around in awe as he tread behind the Professor, noting a loft that seemed to be the living quarters— kitchen, bed, amenities, all lifted above so that one might observe the work even at rest.

He nearly ran into the inventor when they stopped at a workbench, the man swapping out his spectacles for ones with all sorts of magnified lenses, hinged so he might click them down or up depending on what was needed. A tiny tool was already digging to open up the watch, fingers nimble despite him having wrinkles between his brows. Wrinkles meant someone was old, as Percy understood it.

“Mmhmm, let’s see… there we go,” the back clicked off, “yes good, one moment while I examine the damage.”

Percy was pretty sure most adults would have been suspicious of a young boy with a gold plated pocket watch. Luckily, it seemed the thought never even crossed Professor Chase’s mind; either he did not care, or he was stupid.

Could smart people be stupid?

“Good gods, boy, have you been waterboarding this poor device?!” Professor Chase finally exclaimed, “There’s some build up, a bit of rust on the cogs, the moisture alone—!”

“So you can’t fix it?” Percy asked, anxious now. He had to come through for Annabeth— he must.

The man waved his hand, “Of course I can fix it.”

“Oh. Good.” There was a pause, then, “Can you make it better?”

Professor Chase turned to blink at him, speaking slowly, “I just said I could fix—“

“No, not just fix— i-it needs to be better .”

Another pause. 

“What needs to be better about it?”

“Can you make it waterproof?”

Suddenly, Percy could see gears turning in Professor Chase’s head just as the physical cogs around them did, “Waterproof… Well, it could be made airtight, I suppose, but— no, that would ruin much of the craftsmanship, and with the face like this—“ the man began to mutter to himself, “Perhaps if I made a sort of coating for the equipment… yes, yes a wax, hydrophobic in nature… could keep the gears dry, but it would need to be thin enough as not to stop them from moving properly...” He pulled a piece of parchment haphazardly from a pile and (despite it already being covered in notes) began to write down lists of things. Percy thought they must be ingredients and formulas, but he didn’t recognize any of the words or symbols.

“It would need to be reapplied regularly, of course—“

“Could you make it last 6 months? Or longer?” Asked Percy, thinking about Annabeth’s time away during the winter and how sad she would be if her dear watch stopped again.

“6 months—?!” The professor's incredulous exclamation turned to something like glee in mere seconds, his maniacal laugh making Percy jump. Maybe this man was a bit insane, as the adults and older kids whispered, “Oho! You wish to challenge me, then… alright, I accept. I’ll do one better—” Another scribble was added to the chaotic paper— Percy wasn’t sure how anyone could read a single thing there, even if they didn’t have his issue with floating words. 

“7 months! At least!” He crowed triumphantly, standing and rushing to another workstation all the way across the giant, circular room. Percy followed, still admiring the many inventions along the way; some seemed to use electricity, others steam, and some he could not identify what made them work. It was as if they were magic.

The new table was filled with glass containers of all sizes, some burners, a microscope, and so many things Percy had no hope of recognizing the form or function of. Professor Chase stooped below, pulling out an ice chest and fishing through bottles of liquids. Then a drawer, with little waxes and tins of solid materials. The lensed spectacles were switched out again for goggles, and as the man snapped gloves on, Percy came up beside him.

“Um, Sir?”

Professor Chase yelped in surprise, “Good gracious me—! Oh, you’re…” his head tilted, “You’re still here, then?”

“Um…” there was only one answer to that question, and it was rather obvious, so Percy chose to move on from it as quickly as he could, “I-I don’t have any money.”

This was met with a stare. The professor seemed to stare a lot. “Well I… I’m sure that is likely to be a common plight at your age— unless they’re forcing 7 year olds into the mines these days.” He chuckled to himself, as if this was a particularly funny joke.

“I’m almost ten—“ Percy cut his indignation off, because age was irrelevant to the more pressing problem, “I mean I don’t have a way to pay you, Sir.”

Again, a silent stare. 

“Why on earth would you need to pay me?” The utterly bewildered Professor Chase finally asked.

“You… you charge people. For inventions.” When the man didn’t respond, Percy huffed, exasperated. He couldn’t remember ever being exasperated with an adult before— at least, not in a way that wasn’t accompanied by anger. “I’m asking for an invention; don’t you want to be paid?”

“…Ah!” It finally clicked, and Percy wondered how on earth a man like this could have produced a child as smart and capable as Annabeth. “No need, dear boy; you’ve brought me a puzzle, and my payment shall be the satisfaction when I solve it.” 

This seemed like an incredibly poor financial decision to Percy. “So you don't charge? You work for free?”

The professor had flipped the full parchment to the other side, which seemed just as crowded with words and diagrams, but he began writing over them just the same, “Of course I charge.”

“But—“

“I am not in the habit of taking money from children.” The man lifted a bottle of clear liquid to the light, then an identical one; it struck Percy that the bottles weren’t labeled, and he was fairly certain they ought to be. “Further, this is the single most interesting request I’ve received in the past five years—- do you know how many concoctions I have had to make to keep pests from eating the wool off of sheep? Or how many salves I ship to the docks weekly so the sailors don’t burn in the sun? Or how many foolish men stumble in here asking for a machine to plow for them, or a wearable telescope, or a medicine to enhance their—“ Professor Chase looked down at Percy as if sizing up his age once more, then seemed to decide against finishing whatever thought he’d had, “I can easily provide all those things of course, but the materials alone are a fortune, not to mention the labor— and they expect it for pennies! Or even free!” He shook his head wearily, “My boy, you are light years ahead of your elders by even bringing up payment before I’ve started.”

This felt almost like praise. Percy wasn’t used to being complimented by adults, other than his mother. It was strange.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yes, lad— fetch me that book, won't you?”

‘That book’ turned out to be buried amidst several stacks of other books, but after some trial and error and running back and forth, Percy managed to bring the correct one over. And then he was sent for a mortar and pestle. And then a burner, as apparently  the two already at the table burned too hot. And then he had to go searching for bark resin, several types of plants, and a strange contraption that the Professor explained was for spinning vials so fast liquids could separate from each other. Percy wasn’t sure if he believed that, but it sounded interesting enough.

Nearly two hours after he’d arrived, Professor Chase squinted down at Percy, “…did you say your name?”

“No sir.”

“Ah.” He went back to swirling some liquids, then squinted again, and Percy took the cue.

“Percy Jackson, sir.”

“Sally’s boy.” The Professor chuckled, “She always made the most marvelous of hot rolls. I haven’t popped down to her shop for some time, perhaps I’ll—“

“She doesn’t have the bakery anymore.” Percy interrupted, “Gabriel took it for his carpentry.”

Professor Chase frowned, “Gabriel?”

“My step-father, sir— Gabriel Ugliano.”

The answering voice dripped with disappointment. “Oh, yes. The chap who keeps asking me to sell him hair growth formula at a discount.” It was nice to hear another adult talk about the man with contempt.

“Are you a wizard?” Percy asked, the thought that had been on his mind since arriving finally bursting out.

The professor stiffened, “I… am I a what?”

“A wizard.” Percy reiterated, “I mean, this is kind of like a tower, and you make things that are kind of like potions, and you have all sorts of magic things floating around.“ he pointed up at the various gizmos above them; some gliding on paper wings, but never falling, some flapping here and there, some as quick as a hummingbird and others slower than any animal Percy had ever seen aloft. There were small, metal creatures with steam spilling out of them, twirling spirals that moved up and down, and even more that Percy couldn’t comprehend.

“I am a scientist, dear boy.” Professor Chase waved his hand, “It’s not magic, it’s engineering, chemistry, physics—“

“So anyone can learn this stuff?”

He sniffed, “Anyone who cares to pursue it.”

Percy glanced again at the various, scattered bits of mechanical debris, “Do you ever throw away pieces you don’t need?”

“Occasionally.”

“Can I have some?”

Professor Chase eyed him, then nodded to a bucket, “Take what you’d like from there— God knows I hoard far more than what has a use.”

Percy dug around in the bucket, collecting pieces he thought looked interesting or felt nice in his hands; small push buttons, coils, oddly shaped metal that might have been decorative plating on doors or windows, hinges—

“Aha!” The Professor’s shout made Percy jump.

“Are you finished…?” He asked, stuffing the last of a modest collection into his pockets.

“Finished—? Oh, heaven’s no!” Professor Chase laughed, “A project like this will take months!”

“Months?!” Percy repeated with no small amount of alarm. Annabeth would be gone in a matter of weeks!

“Yes, there’s much to research and test before I even have a suitable prototype. But I found my pipette,” he held up a small device triumphantly, “so I shall be able to start just as soon as my new materials are delivered in a fortnight.”

Percy was glum when he left the Professor’s windmill. He wouldn’t get the pocket watch back to Annabeth before the long winter.

The dread of breaking the news to her was only softened by the fact that he now had new gifts to present. He hoped they would be enough.

Happily, they were.

Annabeth lamented her pocket watch, but was intrigued by who Percy had gotten to fix it.

“My father…?” She asked, eyes wide, though her brow kept a quirk of apprehension, “He… he can do that? Fix it?”

“He said he can. I believe him—- his house was filled with all sorts of things, things he built, I’ve never even seen anything like it before!” Percy dug a pouch out of his bag and held it out to Annabeth proudly, “I thought you might like things like this, so I asked him if I could take a few um… w-well I’m not sure what they are, exactly…”

Annabeth greedily dug through the pouch, gasping and cooing over the various bits and bobs.

They spent the afternoon trying to fit the items together, giggling and talking about all the inventions they could make.

“My father…” Annabeth’s curiosity got the better of her, and she began to ask questions, “What’s he like?”

Percy thought, “Hmm… he’s very strange.”

“Strange how?”

“He’s a bit…” Percy twirled his finger around his temple, making a silly face.

“…um…?”

So this wasn’t a gesture known in the merfolk sign language, “You know… mad?”

Annabeth’s brow furrowed, “He’s mad? How so? My mother has told me stories about sailors going mad at sea, but I didn’t know it was something that could happen on land…”

“He’s just a little all over the place, I guess.” Percy shrugged, “I’d never seen an adult act like that, forgetting things and bouncing all about and… well, acting like me . It was fun, but confusing. You’re smart like him, but you seem to have a better handle of it.”

She smiled at that, though a wistfulness came across her expression, and Percy became desperate to distract her from thoughts of an unknown father. “Come on, let’s get some rocks and sticks and make an invention!”

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

It was only a few days later that Percy awoke to the clamber of carts and horses on the cobblestone road that wound around the village. He leapt from bed, already grinning as he raced to dress and run toward a familiar house he hadn’t visited in months.

He knocked excitedly on the door, rocking back and forth on his heels as several loud voices and bangs accompanied his knock.

Grover flung open the door, curls awry, and as gangly as ever.  His eyes widened.

“Percy!”

“Grover!” Percy cried, before grabbing his friend’s arm and dragging him through the door and down the grassy hill his house sat upon.

“W-wait!” Grover stumbled after him, adjusting his crutch to carry rather than try to use it with Percy’s wild speed, “What— Where are we—?!”

Percy slowed enough so that Grover wouldn’t have quite so much difficulty following, but his excitement still drove him forward, “You need to meet Annabeth!”

“Anna—?!”

“You’ll see!”

“But my…” Grover glanced back to his home, still filled with loud, overlapping voices— cousins, aunts, uncles, all living together and all very noisy— and his protest died out.

They staggered into the trees, and Percy finally relented to a walk so that Grover might adjust his crutch beneath his arm.

Grover could walk and run without it, but it could be tiring. His legs had formed differently than any set Percy had ever seen, and the crutch helped Grover navigate without getting exhausted so quickly.

“So y-you made a new friend?”

Percy nodded, “You’re gonna love her, she’s so smart, and nice, and she knows lots of interesting things!”

“How long ago did her family move here…?”

There was a pause, then Percy shrugged, navigating through branches, “Probably forever ago, I guess.”

Grover frowned, “Where in the village do they live?”

“Oh, she lives out here—“

A hand suddenly grabbed Percy’s shoulder, a sharp intake of breath accompanying it, “Percy!” Grover whispered, fear in his eyes, “You… she’s not one of the fair folk, r-right?” Grover and his family had a deep respect for nature, as well as the stewards of it. The Faeries weren’t to be trifled with, and according to them should be avoided whenever possible. 

Were merpeople fae? Percy wasn’t so sure… so he shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think—?! ”

“C’mon, you’ll see.”

Percy had given Annabeth more of a heads up than he had allowed Grover; it was her secret, after all. There was an expected hesitation at first, but Percy suspected she was curious, and he was happy to introduce her to a new friend. One who would be safe. And no one was safer than Grover.

They stumbled to the large smooth stones that jutted out over the pond, and Percy cupped his hands around his mouth, crowing out; “Annabeth!”

It took a moment. Grover wouldn’t see those first traces, but Percy knew what to look for— the peek of a silver head beneath the waterfall, a ripple on the surface, a flash of a fin.

And then she was there, eyes scrutinizing as she popped out of the water so fast that Grover tumbled backwards with a yelp of surprise and fear.

“Ah!”

Percy laughed, grabbing his friend’s arm to steady him, “It’s okay! It’s just Annabeth!”

“I’m not ‘ just ’ anything.” Annabeth responded ruefully, though she giggled, pulling herself up onto the rock, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Grover gulped, sitting up despite his shaky hands and ashen features, “I-I’m not frightened!” He claimed, though his eyes kept flickering to the silver tail.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look, then both burst into giggles.

“I’m not!” Grover insisted, a smile tugging at his own lips, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“Then why did you yell like that?” Percy asked.

“Why didn’t you?” Grover responded, crossing his arms with a pout, “She came up so suddenly!”

“The water is clear here, you could have seen her if you paid any attention.”

“Well I didn’t know she’d be coming out of the water! ” His attention darted back to Annabeth, who was patiently waiting for their bickering to cease. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Percy huffed, “I told you she lived here!”

“I thought you meant the woods, not the pond!”

“I’m Annabeth.” Annabeth interjected, her patience clearly having run out.

Grover straightened, “Oh, yes, ah… I’m Grover.” He held out his hand to shake, just as Percy had done before. And just as she always did, Annabeth placed her fingers perpendicular to the boy’s palm. When Grover shot Percy a questioning look, Percy only shook his head as if to say ‘ Don’t question it.’

“Um…” Grover started, glancing at the tail again, “Do… Do you eat people?”

Annabeth tilted her head, “I don’t think I have.”

This wasn’t quite good enough, “You don’t think…? ”

“Well I’ve never killed a person.”

This, it seemed, was good enough, and so the three of them settled down, Percy and Annabeth relaying to Grover their adventures over the summer, and Grover and Percy in turn regaling Annabeth with their own stories from their years of friendship.

“What is that?” Annabeth asked, pointing to Grover’s crutch.

“Oh…” he picked it up, “It helps me walk.”

Annabeth pursed her lips at the boy’s legs thoughtfully, “Do you think it would help me walk?”

“…I’m not sure?”

“Well, one way to know for certain!” Percy said, getting to his feet.

They tried. And they failed miserably. Annabeth’s tail was nearly the weight of Grover and Percy combined, and the crutch did very little to keep her upright on land; the children collapsed in a pile of giggles.

Percy felt his heart swell in his chest; not only did he have two friends, he had two friends who were now friends with each other!

But, of course, it would be too short lived.

Annabeth was a week or so away from swimming to warmer, southern seas.

And when she came back, Grover would only be in town a little bit longer before traveling with his family for their farm work.

But such thoughts aren’t very important or pressing when you’re nine years old, when an hour feels like a day and a week a month and a month a year. Nor did it feel important when there was fun to be had; races to win, bird calls to mimic, treasure to be found, games to be made up and forgotten in a handful of hours, and truly, really, Percy would have been happy to live in that afternoon for the rest of eternity.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath...”
― Herman Melville

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him up for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.”
― W.B. Yeats

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The Summer adventures came to a close.

The weather was cooling— not by much, but enough that Annabeth’s family had to start their migration south. Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever felt his heart squeeze so tight at the thought of parting from someone. His eyes stung and his throat tightened, but he wouldn't cry.

Crying was for little boys. He was determined to be a man. Even if mother said men cried, he wanted to seem strong and sure for Annabeth, who was certainly not lacking in sniffles.

“You’ll take care of my watch when it’s done, won’t you?” She asked tearfully, though she, too, pretended that she was nonchalant at their parting.

“‘Course.”

“And we’ll meet back here a full moon after the Equinox?”

“Mmhm!” Percy nodded, “And you’ll come up with more games while you’re away, right?”

“I will.” Annabeth took a deep breath, “You'll tell Grover goodbye for me?”

As brief as their time together had been, Grover and Annabeth got along as if they were old pals. He introduced new ideas for play; they were Musketeers protecting the queen one day, then a judge (Grover) and a lawyer (Annabeth) holding a trial for a pirate (Percy) the next. Grover seemed to balance out Annabeth’s serious demeanor and Percy’s energetic one with a nervous caution that reeled them both back from doing increasingly stupid things.

Until those occasional instances where he got caught up in the thrill as well and then it was the three of them being downright silly together with absolutely no voice of reason among them.

He wasn’t able to come today, having been confined to helping his large family with the last of winter preparations. While Grover would be in school with Percy come the following week, the adults and older cousins would be working locally for the fall harvest season.

“Definitely.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. After spending nearly every day together all Summer, it was impossible to imagine not seeing each other for months. It was an unfathomably long time.

It felt like a piece of Percy was going with her. A piece who’s absence would be incredibly painful.

Percy held out his hand slowly with a shy smile, “I’ll bring you new books in spring, Miss Annabeth.”

Annabeth blushed, but her own fingers reached out to press perpendicular to his palm, “They better be good ones.” And then she pushed out of the water to wrap Percy in a quick, wet hug.

She was gone in an instant, and Percy, dripping wet, had no name for the ache in his small body.

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School had never been more miserable.

Words in books swam around Percy’s head, most of the teachers hardly cared if he kept up or not, and Clarisse’s gang was more determined than ever to make Percy’s life exhausting. 

And he missed Annabeth.

At least Grover was there, and Grover was the best friend Percy ever had, so he wasn’t complaining.

They’d wander the woods, the beaches, the fields, even as the weather grew chilly and the skies were gray and rainy more often than not, they walked together. They played games. They invented new ones for when it was Summer again. They complained about their bullies.

And a few times a week, Percy would stop by a certain windmill.

“I’ve done it!” Professor Chase crowed in October, presenting the watch with a small tin of wax.

Percy took the chain gingerly, already thinking about how Annabeth would look when he gave it back; “And it’s safe in water now, then?”

“Tested and retested.” Said the professor triumphantly.

“The ocean too?”

Professor Chase paused.

Then he snatched the watch away, returning to his work bench and mumbling about ‘salt water’ and ‘corrosive properties.’

Another time Percy visited, the Professor was tinkering with different metal bits, eye-dropping tiny splashes of water onto them then shaking his head to try the next batch. Percy couldn’t imagine the man with a wife, let alone children… yet a woman of the sea had found him desirable enough to conceive a child with. And he did have a child, whether he knew it or not.

“Do you want kids?” Percy asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

The inventor choked on air, dropping his pipette, “Children—?! Heaven’s no!” He blustered, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Why not?” Asked Percy, heart sinking for Annabeth.

“They’re so…” Professor Chase flapped his hands about vaguely, “Messy. Loud. They grab things, they cry, they distract from what’s really important— no. All the good I can do for the world does not need to be interrupted by something like a baby .”

“But,” Percy felt his worry rise, “they don’t stay babies?”

“Yes, yes, and then they become demanding children, then demanding teenagers, then demanding adults like the rest of them— the last thing I need is someone out there who feels they are entitled to something from me— no, I am perfectly happy as I am. I would be a terrible Father.”

On that, Percy agreed.

There were days when Grover had to help his family and Professor Chase shooed him away. Those days, Percy would sit on the beach.

Before Annabeth, it was where he always went to escape Gabriel’s temper and the town that looked at him like he was a problem they’d rather ignore than deal with.

The sea calmed him in a way nearly nothing else could. The sounds. The color, whether a crystal green or deep blue or frightening gray, wrapped him up like the fluffiest of blankets. The sound was like a spell, the only thing that seemed to calm his racing mind, his constant need to fidget and move. He could get lost in the rock of those waves for hours. He often did.

“Don’t you get cold?” Grover asked once.

“Of course.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Percy shrugged.

Maybe it was knowing his father had been a sailor. Perhaps he longed to travel the seas as he had.

Maybe that’s why he got on so well with Annabeth.

Months passed. Finally the day came when the Professor declared the watch really truly officially complete.

“Most of the cogs were constructed from a new hydrophobic alloy I managed to synthesize, which in and of itself is worth a commendation from the University,” Professor Chase explained, though Percy did not know to what University he referred to nor did he understand most of what the man said. He listened politely regardless. “But this item truly is a work of superb craftsmanship, it would be a travesty to replace every piece of it—the gold, for example, or the art on the face—so this is the next piece.” a small tin of a waxy substance was placed in Percy’s hand, “The container itself is air and water tight, and the solution is within; apply it, and it will dry clear and smooth with no stickiness or indication it’s there within an hour, guaranteed insoluble for nine months at the very least— longer if it isn’t constantly submerged. Look, I’ve already painted it on, can you see it?”

Percy could not.

“Excellent!”

And it was excellent, though it would be more so if Annabeth were there to receive her gift.

So Percy continued to attend classes that hurt his head, and fought bullies who picked on Grover, and hid from his drunken step-father, and sat by the sea for much of winter. Staying out of the house was more difficult when it snowed, but he managed to bundle up and find the will to do so anyway. Better than the alternative.

Then soon the snow melted. Green leaves grew from bare branches, the skies were bluer, the mornings painted with a fine mist that coaxed flowers to bloom and grass to brighten. The sea wasn’t so stormy. The water was warm enough to swim in.

And when Percy, during one of his late afternoon excursions to the beach to sit and stare and try not to think about what it might be like if he got home before Gabriel passed out from one too many ales, spotted a flick of what could be a tail in the waves, his heart filled with a warmth he had forgotten he could feel. Because the date he and Annabeth had agreed upon to meet again was a mere three days away.

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Adults expect reunions to be grand, accompanied by much fanfare, tears, and no small amount of emotion.

Children, while they may have the emotion, often fall back together as if they’d never been apart.

And that is how Annabeth and Percy began their Summer; grinning hellos, a race, a prize– and when Annabeth won (as Percy knew she would) he presented her with the pocket watch, functional and gleaming in the afternoon light.

“Oh!” Annabeth cried out, and then there was the fanfare and tears as she threw her arms around him, soaking his shirt. But Percy didn’t mind. And he wouldn’t mention the tears— neither of them ever cried, after all. 

Grover was lucky enough to enjoy a whole month with them before his family began their seasonal travel, and it truly felt like the three of them had always been together, since birth— since before birth, in whatever place souls resided before being brought into the world.

But then he was gone, and the following months were a whirlwind.

Percy brought Annabeth little metal bits given by Professor Chase, and in turn she would show him the small inventions she constructed with them; simple things like seashells she put on a hinge to make a box, or a small metal bar that spun a bouquet of leaves atop it when she pressed a button. She seemed to have a mind for puzzles, working out how things functioned, how they fit together, and how to combine those concepts into something new. Sort of like her father, Percy supposed.

He told Annabeth the stories the Professor shared with him, though there was still much he didn’t understand. Annabeth was fascinated with how the watch was made safe for her, but her eyes absolutely sparkled when Percy spoke of the mysterious, glamorous University Professor Chase described; libraries so large you couldn’t see where the shelves ended, gleaming towers and spirals crafted by engineers and artists in tandem, labs with any material one might want for experiments and inventions, symposiums of philosophy and metaphysical theory…

“And anyone can learn there?”

Percy nodded, “That’s what he said— anyone willing to learn.”

Annabeth sighed wistfully, then asked Percy to bring her some books next they met; not the fairytales they normally read, but books about real things.

“You’re real.” Percy pointed out.

“I mean about things that actually happened! Not made up stories meant to teach us lessons grown-ups are too scared to tell us themselves.”

They weren’t easy to procure. Books were scarce in the village, with no public library or shops that sold them, but after poking around the small building that was the village’s school, he returned triumphantly with volumes on arithmetic, the flora and fauna of the Eastern wetlands, and a biography on some person Percy had never heard of— once Annabeth read it, she informed him that the subject of the book had discovered fungal spores that could cure chronic abdominal issues.

Percy was sure the books would be boring, but Annabeth devoured them in no time, asking for more, and he had to scour the town again for new things to bring her.

But with the way she lit up at every new tome he brought, Percy found he didn’t mind.

She read, he practiced the merfolk sign language, they shared sweets Percy’s mother made, and secrets they’d never told anyone else. They played. They laughed.

Midsummer was hotter than usual for the little town, so Percy wasn’t surprised when other children were at their pond more often than usual; though it was no less disappointing. Sometimes he was able to wait until they’d all gone, and sometimes he’d have to come back the next day and hope the clearing would be empty.

It was on one such occasion that Percy was sitting by a tree, watching everyone splash about as he flipped through the atlas he’d managed to steal away from the postal office. He was going to show Annabeth all the maps, and they could pick out where they wanted to adventure to when they grew older.

Alas, it seemed the gaggle of intruders would not disperse any time soon, and with Clarisse and her friends snickering near the water, pushing each other in and laughing meanly at the other children, Percy decided to consider today a loss and go home.

He was packing up his satchel when his ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone.

“Chris?!” Clarisse called, a frown in her voice. Percy glanced up to see her looking around in confusion, “Chris…? Where did he go?!”

 Ethan shrugged, “Wasn’t he there a second ago?” He pointed.

“In the water…? No, no he was next to me—”

“Nancy pushed him in, I think.”

Clarisse’s voice was growing more shrill by the second, “But he never goes in the water, you know that!”

“What’s the harm?” Nancy asked.

“Well he’s not there , is he!” Clarisse raised her voice louder, searching the water desperately, “Chris! Chris, where are you?!”

“Can he not swim…?”

“I-I don’t know! He’s never tried!”

Ethan shouted, “I think I see him there!”

Percy moved automatically, dropping his things and racing to the edge of the pond, diving in without a second thought.

The water immediately muffled the shrieks above, and he glanced about, trying to get his bearings, trying to spot any sort of shape that might be a boy. The pond was normally clear, but this close to the waterfall churning it and the shade of the low cliffs, it was difficult to make out much of anything.

Then Percy’s eyes seemed to focus, and there it was— a dark shape, sinking slowly, and what seemed to be legs writhing feebly.

He kicked through the water towards the shape, ignoring the drag of his clothes and the burn of his lungs. Percy’s arms hooked under Chris’, now a limp body in the water, and with desperate movements tried to propel them both to the surface.

But the larger, older boy was far too heavy, and Percy far too small, and both their clothes weighed them down further.

Panic began to hit Percy as they sank— he couldn’t just leave. That wouldn’t be right. He strained against the water, pulling, pushing, kicking, thrashing, and his body couldn’t take it anymore, inhaling no small amount of water into his lungs.

That burned too, but in a different way. Percy felt that breathing in anything that wasn’t air should hurt, or at least be incredibly uncomfortable, but after a moment he felt neither, and the burning stopped. Perhaps this was drowning then? It wasn’t as bad as the sailors in port always warned it would be.

And then he felt small hands grip his ankles.

Percy looked down, eyes widening as Annabeth’s form became clearer, pushing up the two boys with powerful pumps from her strong tail.

The pressure lessened, making Percy’s ears pop, and in a moment, they burst to the surface.

Ah.

His lungs hurt. There was the burn.

Percy coughed and hacked as he swam himself and Chris (with a hidden Annabeth’s help) towards the rocky banks, water pouring from his mouth as his body rejected it.

Clarisse was shrieking Chris’ name again, her and Ethan gripping the unconscious boy’s arms and dragging him onto the rocks as Percy pulled himself up too— he turned, scanning the pond to ensure no one had seen Annabeth. Fortunately, she wasn’t visible; plus, everyone’s eyes were on the spectacle, and that was worthy of relief.

“Chris!” Clarisse sobbed, patting the boy’s face with her hands, hovering over him, “He’s not waking up— why isn’t he waking up?!”

Percy turned and stared at the scene for a moment. Then he made a fist, pushed Clarisse out of the way (who, in her state of shock, let him), and with one sharp ‘thump!’ he hit his hand on the boy’s chest.

All at once, Chris’ eyes fluttered and he rolled, spitting up more water than Percy thought should be in a person’s lungs. The sound was horrendous, but Chris was breathing, if not totally lucid. 

“E-Ethan, help me!” Clarisse gasped out, and the two hoisted Chris to his feet, “W-we gotta take him to the Doc!”

Their group staggered from the clearing, shaky, pale, and crying. But as Percy knelt on the rocks, breath ragged, and body exhausted as the adrenaline wound down, Clarisse looked back with a furtive expression. Their eyes met. And then she turned and tromped into the forest with her wailing friends. 

The other children left quickly after. It seemed foolish to stay now.

Percy didn’t move from his spot on the smooth stone, waiting. Trembling. He wasn’t all that frightened when he was there, in the water… but now terror seized him as all that had happened settled in his bones and melted them to jelly.

Annabeth, as expected, appeared as soon as the last of the village kids left.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done that!” Her voice was coarse and thick, her eyes red and her hands shaking as they clutched the edge of the rock, “What if I wasn’t here?! What if…” She swallowed hard.

Percy stared at her with glazed eyes, then hiccupped, more water dribbling out the corners of his mouth, “I-I… couldn’t leave him.” He coughed, then gave a weak smile, “I-I’m okay, see? It’s okay.”

Annabeth sniffled, rubbing her palm into her eye— Percy wasn’t sure what that was meant to accomplish, as that only made her eyes more wet. “Please, just… just don’t… don’t do that, okay? Never again, I… y-you can’t drown. I can’t… th-the stories aren’t true.”

“What stories…?” Percy asked hoarsely.

“We can’t save people who fall in and drown.” Annabeth bit her lip, “W-we can’t make them breathe water with…”

She trailed off, and Percy remembered the old song and wives tale; mermaids loved devouring men, but if one struck her fancy, stole her heart, she could give him a kiss that would ensure that no amount of water in his lungs would kill him.

“I-I know.” He sniffed, pushing wet hair back from his face, “I-I’ll be more careful.” At Annabeth’s miserable expression, Percy forced a smile, “Look, I have something that can cheer us up—”

The book of maps did cheer them up, and soon enough they were giggling and talking as always.

Chris turned out to be alright, if shaken by the ordeal, and the parents in town agreed; no more swimming in the pond, especially not without adults. Normally, a ban on something would do little to deter anyone under the age of 19, but seeing someone nearly die, being confronted with mortality so young… Percy and Annabeth were rarely interrupted from then on.

Convincing Sally he was safe in the woods was harder for Percy, but he managed it somehow.

Lies like; “I don’t go to the pond anymore.” “I won’t go swimming alone, I swear.” “I’m not going to the woods, I’m going to Professor Chase’s.”

And a truth; “I’m friends with a mermaid, remember? She’ll keep me safe.”

It began to dawn on Percy that his mother didn’t really believe he had a mermaid for a best friend, but somehow she was still reassured— though she made Percy swear multiple times to be careful. Better she knew where he was if something happened rather than him to go missing and not have told her where he would be.

After months of games, races, books, and laughter, Summer was over much too quickly.

Grover returned, and the trio once more had a wondrous few weeks together.

Then it was Annabeth’s turn to leave for Winter, and she did.

And Percy missed her even more than before.

But now? Now things weren’t quite as bad.

And maybe the time would pass faster now that he’d lived through it once.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full.”
― King Solomon

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Chapter Text

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“Love alone can make a human abandon his heart and home, and love for a handsome fisherman alone can separate a small mermaid from the sea to the point of scooting alone on dry rocky terrain and ignoring the pain and suffering of the land.”
― Moniro Ravanipour

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Winter was agonizingly long this year.

But Percy survived.

Words still floated off the page. Teachers acted like he was stupid, if they bothered to try to help him at all. At least Clarisse and her friends stopped bothering him. They were the only bullies big enough and mean enough to really be effective anyway, and Percy was perfectly happy to be ignored if it meant not getting punched or tripped or insulted any more. 

Unfortunately, Gabriel was as foul as ever. He reeked of alcohol more often than not these days, and it became harder to ignore him as the weather was particularly cold this season— too cold to sit on the beach as often as Percy would like.

His mother would sometimes persuade Gabe out of the house (“The tavern had that ale you like so much delivered again! How about you spend the evening there?”) which gave Percy and Grover warm evenings laying by the hearth, playing marbles or with tin soldiers or discussing how to make the most of their little time all together with Annabeth the next Summer.

Percy visited Professor Chase less frequently now that there was no reason to, but he still would stop by just to be polite— and to collect all those little metal scraps he could gift Annabeth when she came back.

And just like that, warmth. Flowers. Green.

They wasted no time diving right into all the games that were plotted over the last several months; this year, their favorite involved Percy and Grover also being fabled beings. Grover was a satyr, protector of nature. Percy decided on being merfolk.

“Well then I want to be something else too!” Annabeth complained. “It’s boring if we’re both merfolk!”

Percy tilted his head, “No one said you couldn’t.”

She settled on a faerie— not the small, fictional, good-natured kind with wings and bell-like giggles, but a clever, full-size one, who spoke in riddles and tried to trap the souls of mortals in contracts.

“Who’s soul shall we help you trap, then?” Percy asked.

Annabeth tapped her chin, “Well, is there a king?”

“I’m sure there’s one somewhere.”

“Then let’s get the king, and we can take over his kingdom and rule!” She declared gleefully.

“Um… do we have to steal souls?” Grover fidgeted anxiously.

“Yes!” Annabeth insisted, “He’s a very bad king, you see, and we’ll do a much better job.”

“But—”

“He hunts a lot.” Percy chimed in, “And chops down whole forests just for the fun of it.”

“He does…?” Grover asked, warming up to the idea.

Percy nodded earnestly, “Oh yes, all the time— he hates trees. And plants… and hunts animals!”

“Then let’s get the king!” Grover cried, and it became the best game of Summer.

Of course, Grover’s family went off for work again, and again Annabeth and Percy were alone for much of the time.

Percy ran out of non-fiction to give her, so they were back to fairy tales until he could procure new books, parsing through the stories they hadn’t yet gotten to. Annabeth was much better than Percy at reading these days, so she had taken over as designated storyteller.

And of course, she found the one about the mermaid.

It was Percy’s mother’s favorite; romantic and tragic. But the more Annabeth read, the more agitated she grew, until finally they reached the end and she snapped the book shut with a huff.

“That was utterly ridiculous!”

“Was it?” Percy yawned, shaken from the nap he’d been slipping in and out of as she read.

“Yes!” Annabeth huffed, glaring at the book as if it had slapped her in the face. “She’s very stupid, isn’t she? All she had to do was wait until her proper birthday to get her own legs. Why sell her tongue for that?!”

Percy furrowed his brow. “Maybe her kind of mermaids don’t get legs when they grow up.” 

Her lips pursed, “But… still! Why trade her pretty tail away for something as silly as a prince? Especially if it hurts so much?”

“It was love at first sight?” Percy suggested, “I mean, he was the first human she ever saw, of course she would fall in love—” 

“ You’re the first human I ever saw, and I didn’t immediately fall in love with you, did I?” Annabeth pointed out, cross.

They both fell silent after that, Percy thinking hard. “Okay, but… she wanted a soul, right? Maybe the prince wasn’t the point— she did fall in love after them being together so much, but what she really wanted was heaven… she wanted a soul like humans, you know? Somewhere nice to go when she died.”

“...Oh.” It was quiet for so long after that, that Percy felt himself start to doze again. Suddenly Annabeth asked softly, “Do… do I have a soul? When I die do I… won’t I get to go to heaven? With you?”

Percy’s eyes snapped open as he heard the same tone that had been in her voice after he nearly drowned the year before. She was scared. “Of course you do!” He sat up quickly, trying to channel every bit of earnest feeling into his gaze, his voice; “Look, you don’t turn to seafoam when you keel over, right?” It struck him then that maybe that was what really happened to mermaids when they died, and he worried that his point would fall short and only make her more afraid, but to his relief, Annabeth shook her head;

“We don’t…”

“See? You definitely have souls. So we get to go together, okay? I can go first, and I’ll wait for you—”

“Why would YOU go first?” Annabeth huffed, but her voice was lighter, “I don’t think we have much control over such things.”

“Well it would be rude to make the lady go first!” Percy always liked the flush that came to her cheeks when he called her a lady.

She eyed him, “Fine. You promise you’ll wait for me?” 

Percy crossed his heart, holding up a hand solemnly, “I swear it.”

Annabeth seemed to think about it, then nodded, “Okay. But if you break that promise, I’m hunting you down.”

“Yes Miss Annabeth.” Percy gave a bow from where he sat, she laughed, and everything was good and right and warm.

But as always, that wasn’t forever.

Grover came back. School began. Annabeth gone. The cycle was beginning to frustrate, but Percy supposed if Annabeth never left, then he’d never feel the excitement of seeing her again the following year, and he held onto that thought all Winter long.

This year, even though Clarisse had continued to leave him alone, new bullies cropped up, taking her place as the older kids became too old to keep beating up such small children. At first they left Percy alone, but when he saw them picking on the littler kids…?

He fought. He fought a lot . 

Matthew Sloan was definitely the worst of the bunch; he wasn’t big himself, but he was smart. He knew how to make the big kids do what he wanted. He knew how to hurt people the best. 

The black eyes and bruised arms and scraped knees were worse than they’d ever been with Clarisse.

Percy realized as he grew that Clarisse was just desperate to have power over something in her life— it wasn’t a secret that her dad was a jerk.

But Matt Sloan?

He simply liked the cruelty for its own sake.

Percy hated him; he hated Sloan and he hated his big dumb friends and he hated how much they reminded him of Gabriel. He hated how between home and school, there was no safe place, no peace, no space to relax and be happy— he hated how people hated him for no reason other than his bright eyes and his missing father and his difficulty learning.

He hated being who he was, with impulsive fists and impulsive words and a life so full of terrible things that he nearly forgot that at the end of the tunnel was Summer. 

And Annabeth.

But now there were more black eyes, more nights of his mother worrying over split lips and angry parents in the village telling her to control her son.

“He started it!”

“I know, sweetie.” Sally brushed his hair back, “I know you’re doing what you think is right— and standing up for others is right, but please… please be careful.”

Gabriel was even worse in light of these incidents.

 It seemed that Percy being twelve and taller after a growth spurt made the man in his home lose any qualms he may have still had when it came to slinging cruelty his way. Percy realized with no small amount of horror that Gabe had been holding back all these years, 

“He’s causin’ people t’ avoid th’ shop!” He seethed, throwing a bottle at the wall— mercifully it didn’t break.

Percy could see his mother wince through the crack in his door, “I’m sure that’s not the reason—”

“He’s a little criminal, is what he is!” Gabriel wasn’t particularly tall, but when he reared up in all his fury, he was frightening; at least, he had been when Percy was younger. Now seeing the man trying to appear towering above his mother filled him with contempt. “Creepin’ about— they’ve been saying things have been disappearing from his school you know! He’s probably been filchin’ them, the little—”

“What things?” Sally asked sharply.

“Books an’—”

Sally laughed outright, “Gabriel. Have you ever known Percy to willingly pick up a book?”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed, “...Doesn’t matter.” He finally snorted, “The kid is a mistake you shouldn’t have kept, and he’s a menace t’ the community. If it’s not the books it’s somethin’ else.”

Percy’s mother excused herself to her room after that, and he felt fury fill his heart.

The sea was cold. So cold. But he went there, and he sat, and he thought of all the things he would do and say to Gabriel when he finally was a man, finally someone who could protect his mother properly and hurt those who hurt her.

If he’d known being twelve would be so hard, perhaps he would have stayed eleven. Or ten.

His dour mood worried Grover— he could see that much, with how his friend tried to invite him to family dinners or walk the docks receiving shipments more often these days. Percy tried to stay strong, be reassuring, be upbeat, but things were hard. Harder than ever, with skies and seas as dark as the clouds that filled his chest and head.

But then warmth. Sun. 

Spring. Green. Trees. Flowers.

Grover had to leave early for the harvest this year; he wouldn’t get to see Annabeth until the end of Summer.

But Percy promised to show her all the games Grover had helped come up with, and all he could do was count down to the moon where she’d be back, and they could be happy and carefree and lighthearted again.

Annabeth. 

The thought of her, her smile, her eyes, her voice, it kept him going this winter, and finally the day came to see her again.

Percy packed his satchel, the same sort of gifts he always brought; a pouch of gears and whatsits, a single new book he managed to scrounge up, and sweets his mother had baked the day before. He found his boots and tugged them on— gone were the days of tramping through the woods in naked feet.

And he almost made it out the door before Gabriel stumbled out of the bedroom, cursing and grumbling.

“Boy!”

Percy closed his eyes, resolving to ignore the man as his hand pulled on the knob of the front door.

But it was immediately shoved shut, as a much larger hand slammed onto the smooth wood. Percy jumped back, spinning and wincing at the smell of his step-father’s rancid breath.

“Where d’ya think yer going?” Gabe grumbled, and Percy swallowed.

“…Outside?”

A fist came down on the wall near Percy’s head, “Don’t be smart with me, boy!”

A pause. Percy blinked up at the man, then had to fight a snort of laughter— anyone would be ‘smart’ compared to Gabe, and Gabe’s stupidity would be funny if it didn’t make him so dangerous.

“Smart…?” Percy asked, trying to keep the contempt out of his voice.

“The books! The woods— always outta th’ house, hurting kids, the boy who drowned—“

“He didn’t actually—“

“Shut it!”

“Gabriel!”

Their heads turned as Sally shouted her husband’s name in fury.

“What on earth are you doing?!”

“The boy needs discipline,” Gabriel slurred, “He needs a man to show him how to be a… man.”

Sally strode over, pushing Gabriel to the side and gripping Percy’s upper arm to jerk him behind her, “And where did you get the idea that Percy needs to be shown how to be a man?” She demanded.

“He’s gotta pull his weight around here . ” Gabe pointed an accusatory finger, “He can work now, can’t he? He’s old enough—!”

“He’s twelve , Gabriel.”

“And he eats more than the two of us! He lazes about, going to the woods, to the school—“

“School is incredibly vital.”

Gabe waved a dismissive hand, “He gets nothin’ outta it. There’s nothing in his head but air.”

Percy could feel his mother’s body stiffen. “And what, exactly, would you have him do instead?”

“Work! Provide for this family instead of bumming about— that or he can get out and stop being pampered by our hard work! If he wasn’t so useless, I’d have had him in the shop ages ago. But someone has got to teach him to be a real man.”

Percy didn’t have to see his mother’s face to know she was rolling her eyes, “If Percy needs to learn to be a ‘real man,’” her voice was cool, “then you would be the most unqualified person for that job.”

She must not have seen the hand raised, because if she had she may have stopped Percy from stepping in front of her, “Don’t!” His high pitched voice, cracking as a sign of its imminent first drop, shook with fury and hatred, “Don’t you touch her you… you stupid pig bastard!” It wasn’t the worst insult Percy knew, nor the most creative, but it was one that might not land him in too much trouble with his mother afterwards.

And it stopped Gabe’s hand. 

But only for a moment.

Percy registered the narrowed eyes, the heavy breath, and then there was a crack and he was on the ground, face smarting, his mother’s scream.

Tears pricked his eyes, but he wouldn’t cry. Not today.

There was shouting, his mother more furious than he’d ever heard her, Gabriel shouting back, and Percy couldn’t stay, especially not when he registered the moving feet, the shouts of his mother to “Go!”

He didn’t want to leave her. But her voice wasn’t scared anymore, not in the moment. It was angry, impossibly so, and Percy had to trust she knew what to do.

A mad scramble to the door and he was sprinting to the woods, his step-father’s voice calling “You better not come back, boy!”

At least he had his shoes. And his satchel.

The mad dash through the woods felt so like that day, years ago, when he’d run through the trees to a pond where he’d meet the very girl he was desperate to see now.

Annabeth was already out of the water, sitting on the edge of their stone and counting colorful rocks and shells she had laid out.

The sight filled Percy with both overwhelming relief and extreme concern.

She shouldn’t be so far out of water where people could see her tail like that. What if someone snuck out to the pond and found a mermaid?! What if she was hurt after that, or taken away to a circus, or fell to some other horrible fate.

And it would be Percy’s fault if that happened. Because he entangled himself in her life, and he was the reason she came to the dangers of the surface so often.

He endangered her every time, didn’t he?

Percy slowed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers as misery and fear continued to wrestle in his chest. The feeling only grew when Annabeth turned and her smile morphed into concern.

“Percy…?” She asked, and he looked to the side, not meeting her eyes so that he might hide the part of his face that still throbbed from the hit.

“Hello.” He replied. Short. Coarse. He had waited all this time, had been so desperate to see her, and now he couldn’t bring himself to express as much. He couldn’t force a smile, couldn’t laugh with delight or let the weight of his life lift from his shoulders for the precious few hours they had together. This was his escape— but what happened when even this place, in this pond, with this girl, stopped soothing his troubles? What happened when he stopped being able to forget?

It was quiet. His curt greeting clearly shocked Annabeth, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts, “Are… are you cross?”

Percy tightened his jaw, “No.”

“You seem angry.” She persisted, and Percy saw her hesitate out of the corner of his eye, “...Are you angry at me?”

The very suggestion that she thought she could do anything to make him angry had his eyes stinging, though Percy didn’t fully understand why, “...No.” He managed, throat tight.

“Then why are you acting it?”

This was hard. Why was it hard? Percy swallowed, then turned to face her properly.

Annabeth gasped, eyes widening in horror— this must have looked far worse than the black eyes he had sported over the years from school bullies. He supposed that made sense— they were only other children. Gabe was an adult man. “Percy!” She cried, “What happened?!”

And then it felt like tears may really fall, so he stayed silent as he picked his way over fallen branches and leaves and rocks to her. He didn’t trust his voice. 

Plus, they agreed; neither of them cried. Ever. He wasn’t going to let her see him red eyed and wet-faced again.

Percy lowered himself beside her, and was grateful that she didn’t continue to question him or press the issue, just letting their shoulders bump occasionally as they sat side by side, staring into the water together.

The pair stayed like that for an awfully long time; it was easy to lose track out here, with only the sun telling the passage of time. But it must have been a while, as the long shadows of morning shrunk and the air grew warm.

“I’ve brought you something.” Percy finally said, digging in his pack for the pouch of gadgets. The way Annabeth’s eyes brightened finally granted some much needed levity despite the underlying worry still clear on her face.

Percy found his voice wasn’t so thick, his eyes not so traitorous, and he and Annabeth fell back into their friendship like it was the softest bed imaginable, sharing stories of their respective winters and exchanging small trinkets gathered in the past months.

But Percy’s heart continued to weigh in his chest, tugging him down, and he knew Annabeth could tell.

“Do you want to go home?” She finally asked him in a quiet voice.

Home. No. He couldn’t. What if Gabe was still there? He was told not to come back. But his mother… he would HAVE to go back, of course, he couldn’t leave her, but he was too afraid at the moment.

He hated being afraid.

“No.” He said.

Annabeth stayed with him all day, which he was immensely grateful for, knowing he wasn’t very good company at the moment. He hadn’t the energy to race, nor play. But he listened intently as Annabeth showed him the various things she had crafted during their time apart, explaining the purpose and function of each one.

Eventually, Annabeth fetched some kelp from the bottom of the pond, pressing it gingerly to the side of Percy’s face as if it were a damp cloth, “The cold will help the swelling, and the plant itself is good for speeding up healing— though I don’t know if it will mend bruises faster if the skin isn’t open.” She admitted.

Percy didn’t mind her not knowing, as the cool pressure on his cheek felt nice, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t like Annabeth’s delicate fingers fretting over him.

The sun eventually set.

“I have to go,” Annabeth sighed, clearly not wanting to leave Percy alone, “My mother will be furious with me for returning so late already.”

Percy looked down at his hands, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you so long.”

“It was my choice to stay, dummy.” She nudged his shoulder with her own, “Will you be alright?”

Percy shrugged.

Annabeth bit her lip, her worry growing again, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

At that, Percy nodded. No matter what, he would make it back here. He had to. Grover was gone, his home was a frightening place, and besides his mother, Annabeth was all he had.

She took his hand gently, giving it a brief, shy squeeze before slipping back into the water.

Percy sat for a bit longer. Curious fireflies drifted around him— he wondered if Annabeth had ever seen fireflies. She always left before they appeared.

And then he couldn’t justify avoiding the walk back any longer— if his mother was waiting for him, she would be fiercely worried by this point. And maybe she was hurt… Percy felt anger bubbling up in his stomach again, fury that he wasn’t stronger, or braver.

The light was on in the house as he approached, flickering and warm. He trudged, surprised when the door opened, when his mother stepped out and held open her arms and all at once her ran to her, collapsing against her with tears as she stroked his hair and kissed his head.

“I’m so sorry, Perseus.” She whispered over and over again, holding him so tight he thought he might burst. But for once, he didn’t mind.

At last they pulled away, and Percy glanced around her into the house nervously.

“He’s not here, sweetie.” His mother assured, “And he won’t be coming back.”

Percy’s eyes widened, “He won’t?” Did his mother finally kick him out? “B-but… what if he doesn’t stay away—?”

“He will.” Sally’s voice was firm, a certainty there that Percy would not come to understand until morning, “You will never have to see that man again, Percy. I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

They ruled it an accident.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out what had happened; the whole village knew Gabriel was a heavy drinker. They also knew he was a fool. His carpentry shop was dangerous, filled with heavy machinery and sharp tools that could mangle and maim and kill with only the slightest mistake. Seeing as that was where the body was found, a gruesome scene surrounded by empty bottles, the case was shut before it even opened.

Percy had never felt so relieved. Normally he might have worried his mother would be disappointed in him feeling glad at the death of another human being, but she seemed quite satisfied with the situation herself. So it was okay.

They acted otherwise, of course. Not too much— Gabe’s other vices and sins were no more a secret than his drinking, but they wore black, attended the funeral, and at least tried to appear mournful. The lack of despair did not seem to raise any brows.

Just like that, things brightened again— at least a bit.

Percy wasn’t sure if his heart would ever feel the same; the past year— that final morning— had taken a toll on him, and it felt like something in him broke that likely wouldn’t and couldn’t ever be fixed. But when he ran into the glade where Annabeth waited in their pond, he was more himself. 

He let himself play, (though the play was somewhat different and more subdued compared to when they were younger), and he laughed (though it wasn’t the same loud hearty laugh he was used to giving freely), and he pretended to be indignant when Annabeth insisted on pressing kelp to his bruised face again— though it made his heart summersault when her fingers lingered on his skin, and the warmth of the feeling caused a strange shame to well up within him.

But he did still play, and laugh, and pretend, and Percy thought that maybe he could go on as if the ache in his chest didn’t exist after all.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“...you are not what you seem - you're a Sylph - you leave and the air retains your image - you haunt me...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Chapter Text

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Forgetting was not the same as healing.”  
― Rivers Solomon

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Sally leased out the shop. 

She had always been the owner, but when her bakery began to hemorrhage money in the wake of newer, bigger, fancier sweet shops opening in town, she’d been forced to rent it out; that was how she met Gabe, who turned the cozy little cafe into a workshop, smelling of sawdust instead of bread.

This time, Percy’s mother was more discerning.

It took most of the summer, Percy returning from his romps with Annabeth to ask if she’d found a tenant yet, and Sally smiling softly as she said “Not yet.” She would recount to him the various odd characters she’d been approached by; a jeweler, a loan agency, a lawyer, some fancy businessman from the city who spoke a lot about “innovation” and “industrializing,” but whatever his business actually did was unclear.

And then there was Paula.

Percy tramped back into the house early afternoon— Grover returned mid-summer, his recent growth spurt causing his legs too much pain to do the farm work his family saw to, so he, Percy, and Annabeth spent the morning catching frogs.

His mother’s laugh filled the cottage, her smile brighter than any Percy had seen since he’d been very small. There was a woman across from her, and mugs of tea between them.

“Percy, you’re back early!” Sally beckoned him over, “This is Paula; she just bought the shop.”

The woman smiled warmly, her salt and pepper curls falling from a loose ponytail and her eyes shining with a mischief that Percy thought adults lost by her age, “Very nice to meet you, Percy.”

Percy suddenly felt wary— no, he was shy— no, that wasn’t right either.

Maybe it was the gladness that someone was making his mother smile, or suspicion, seeing as the last person to rent the shop was a horrid human being. Regardless, he nodded politely, “Hi.” Then at his mother’s sharp look he hastily corrected “I mean, hello Miss Paula.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively, “Just Paula— Miss Paula was my mother.” 

“Right.” Percy glanced back to Sally, “Um, I need— well I want— can I have a bowl?”

Sally pushed away from the table and moved toward the kitchen, “Of course dear; what do you need it for?”

“This.” Percy dug into his pocket and fished out a very disgruntled looking toad.

His mother almost shrieked. “ Perseus Jackson you better take that poor thing out of this house this instant or so help me—!”

“But I found the biggest one!” He whined back, “Grover and Annabeth only found regular little frogs!”

“May I see it?” Paula cut in, and Sally reluctantly held out the bowl so Percy might drop it in and carry it to the table.

Paula leaned down, examining the little thing. “You seem to have caught a common toad, also called a European toad, or known by its genus and species as Bufo Bufo, from the Latin term meaning toad. The family is also known as Bufonidae .” She declared.

Percy’s eyes widened. “You can tell all that just from looking at it?”

“Well, I read it in a book recently,” she admitted, “otherwise I may not have known— but here, the coloring; this is likely a male, and the rings on the phalanges? He must be near ten years old.”

“They can live that long?!” Percy was skeptical, but Paula nodded in confirmation.

“Some have lived as long as 50 years in captivity. And,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “apparently witches like to use them in their spells.”

Percy decided Paula was neat.

She also went on to inform them that toads secrete a toxic substance, and that the bowl should be thrown out and Percy ought to wash his hands; but she promised to purchase a new bowl for Sally, who was beaming. Percy wasn’t sure if she was delighted at the thought of a new bowl, or if something else had her looking so carefree.

Sally made lunch, and Percy wasn’t disappointed to learn Paula would be staying for the meal.

“So how old are you, Percy?” Paula asked, folding her arms on the table.

“Just turned thirteen.” He tilted his head, curiosity getting the better of him. “What are you going to do with the shop?”

Paula smiled. “Do you like books?”

Percy shrugged. “They’re okay… I have trouble reading sometimes, but I have a friend who really likes them.”

“We’ll you should tell them that there will be a new bookshop in town— or, printshop. It’s a bit of both, I suppose.” 

Now this was good news, at least it would be for Annabeth. But the second bit…

“Printshop?” Asked Percy.

“Oh yes— this town could use a newsletter, I think. And books! There are far too few books about, it was the first thing I noticed here.” She thrummed her fingers on the table, “I can make copies fairly quickly with my press, and I figure I might as well convert the front of the building into a bookshop.”

“Would you have nonfiction?”

Paula looked delighted. “Of course! I have quite a personal collection, and a whole cart of volumes ready to sell— books on astronomy, history, biographies, medicine; then novels of mysteries or tall tales from around the world! Anything you’d like, I can procure.”

Annabeth was going to be over the moon.

And she was!

Percy didn’t give he the details; he wanted to surprise her. He simply said he might have a way to procure more books, and jotted down a list of topics Annabeth said was interested in reading about. Later that same day, he presented it to Paula as she worked on cleaning out the once-woodshop.

The woman studied the list, a grin spreading on her face, “That is quite a friend you have there. Her taste seems to be as diverse as my own.” She began writing names of books next to each topic, her own list of titles to locate in her hoard. “I’d very much like to meet her, I think.”

“Um, she… doesn’t live here.” Percy cleared his throat, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “She sent me a list in a letter. They don’t have a lot of books where she’s from.”

“Well, I’ll make sure we change that.” If Paula realized he was lying, she didn’t show it.

There was only a week now until Annabeth would be going South again, but Percy managed to bring a few books for her to devour before then, and promised to bring even more her first day back in the spring.

They idled on that last afternoon, reluctant to say goodbye. It was just the two of them, Grover roped into family obligations, and Percy felt a tug in his chest that he couldn’t place.

This Summer had felt different than previous ones.

It was the same as usual at first; games and easy conversation and shared daydreams and secrets. But sometime after Annabeth’s birthday in July…

Percy couldn’t place what changed. He still looked forward to their afternoons together, but the excitement had taken on an unfamiliar form; whereas before his chest would swell in anticipation to see her, a light, full sensation… now?

It was hard to name the feeling, to describe (even to himself) what was churning inside him; the light turned to the buzzing of bees, or maybe the choppy waters of a stormy sea. The fullness was now hollowed out– an ever expanding bubble that both stretched uncomfortably beneath his skin and threatened to pop and leave nothing but emptiness behind. And beneath it all, an ache, not heavy enough to prompt any deep contemplation or concern, but enough to almost hurt.

But perhaps those were still not the correct words. Perhaps he was just a thirteen year old boy realizing that there were new things about himself he could not yet understand.

And maybe Annabeth felt the shift as well; sometimes they’d steal small, furtive glances when Grover wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes her smile was shyer than Percy thought it ought to be. And sometimes her cheeks burned pink for reasons he couldn’t fully fathom.

He was hyper aware of Annabeth sitting beside him, her hand only a few centimeters from his own, her tail lazily floating in the water. She emitted cold the same way a human body might give off heat— perhaps that was why she was leaning toward him? Seeking his warmth, Percy reasoned.

But was it?

“Well,” Annabeth hesitated, glancing at him, “I suppose I should go.”

Percy nodded. “S’pose you should.”

Annabeth bit her lip, small pointed canines catching the flesh in a way that suddenly fascinated Percy. He did his best not to stare at her mouth. “I…” Her breath was shaky, “I’ll miss you.”

Percy’s face heated. A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to return the sentiment. Why was it now so difficult to get the words out? “I… me too. To you, I mean, I wouldn’t miss me. ”

She laughed, and he felt even more flustered at the sound.

Annabeth slid back into the water, turning to look at him, “The equinox?”

Percy nodded.

The past four years, they’d always hugged goodbye.

Somehow… somehow it felt as if that would be different now.

Annabeth must have felt that too, as she only reached out to squeeze his hand—one of those new small, shy, almost sad smiles on her lips—and then she was gone.

And Percy felt as if he’d missed something very important.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

To Percy’s immense relief, he managed to test into the next grade level.

To his disappointment, so had Matt Sloan.

He groaned into the wood of the small picnic table he shared with Grover under the large oak tree that towered over the school grounds.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You probably shouldn’t.” Grover glanced back towards the school anxiously, “The teachers said you’re already on thin ice this year, and with what happened yesterday—“

“He swung first!” Percy grumbled, running his hands through his hair and gripping it in frustration, “Why am I always the one blamed?! How come everything is my fault?”

“I…it’s not—“ Grover’s protest died at Percy’s pointed scowl. “Okay, look, I’ve been all over with my family, and people in this town… they’re pretty much way worse than most other places.”

“So they treat you worse?”

His friend frowned, “Well, no—“

“So how do you know I’d be treated better? I’ve got these… these weird eyes! Maybe it’ll be the same for me anywhere!” He rubbed his head, “And no one will even tell me what’s weird about them! Like, I look in the mirror… and I just see green eyes. Maybe they’re brighter, but… but if that’s all, why is everyone so… so…”

“I don’t know, Percy.” Grover’s voice was quiet. “Small towns are superstitious, and reject anything different; even if it’s a small difference.” He gestured to his legs. “If it matters, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your eyes.”

“Thanks.” Percy sighed. “We should probably head—“ the expression on Grover’s face when he looked up cut him off, his friend staring behind him, mouth open to shout; too late.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back off of his bench and onto the ground.

“Jackson.” Matt Sloan sneered, hovering above him with two of his larger buddies. “Welcome back to school.” 

“Didn’t you welcome me back yesterday?” Percy asked, deadpan and bored in tone.

Sloan laughed. “Aw, you didn’t think that would be it, did you? That was just a precursor to the main event.”

“Uh huh.” Percy couldn’t find it in himself to be particularly concerned with getting beat up at this point. He was kind of used to it, and Sloan was far from the scariest person he had faced. 

However, his dispassionate response seemed to annoy the other boy, who frowned. “Didn’t you hear me, Jackson? I said—“

“Yeah, precursor, got it.” Percy didn’t move from where he lay on the ground, instead folding his hands behind his head and staring at the sky in the most unbothered demeanor he could manage. “Can you just do whatever it is you’re planning on so I can get back to my conversation?”

Sloan glanced over to where Grover trembled on the bench. His mind seemed to be mulling over something. Then he nodded to his goons, “Grab him too.”

That got Percy to sit up, brows creased in fury, “Leave him alone!”

Even Matt’s friends shifted uneasily— sure, people picked on Grover too, but no one really dared to physically touch him. Between the importance of his family to various surrounding farms, and his disability with his legs… he had been relatively off limits, the adults in town hypervigilant when it came to his safety. Mostly out of pity, Grover would complain.

Not that he needed pity; Grover could hold his own, and often used the fear people had of being seen hurting a kid with crutches to his advantage.

Unfortunately, Matt Sloan did not seem to care.

“Well?” He barked, “Go!”

The two goons slouched toward Grover, who scrambled to get his crutch under his arm and himself off of the bench, “Woah, hey, hey hey hey—!”

“Hey!” A different voice, one Percy had never heard before, cut through the air. He twisted to peer behind him.

There was a girl about their age marching across the grass, unruly red hair bouncing around her shoulders and hands clenched in fists. She stopped in front of the group and crossed her arms; “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sloan and his friends exchanged glances. “Stay out of it, girl!” He finally said, “It’s none of your business.”

The girl lifted her chin. “I think it is.”

“Yeah? How ya figure?” Percy glanced at Sloan’s face— the mean-faced boy was trying to look tough, but his pale face revealed how uncertain he was. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this.

“Your father works at the storehouses, correct?”

Sloan shifted. “What does that matter?” 

“And your mother, she’s captain of the town guard?”

A beat. Sloane glared. “Who even are you?”

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him. “Rachel. Rachel Elizabeth Dare .”

And like that, a damn broke.

Matt Sloan’s expression changed entirely, eyes wide, and his cronies released their grip on Grover’s arms, also backing up. “I— I… Look, girl, you’re new here, so maybe you don’t know how this town works, but this kid?” He thrusted a finger towards where Percy still sat on the ground. “You don’t want to be his friend.

“Is that right?” Rachel tilted her head, “I’m not so sure.”

When Sloan realized the new girl—Rachel—was unfazed by his explanation, he blanched. “I-I… look, we didn’t hurt him, he’s fine! So it’s… it’s fine, right?” Rachel just stared, and Percy could understand how Sloan completely crumbled beneath those unyielding eyes. “Please, don’t tell my ma—!” Sloan pleaded, and when Rachel didn’t respond to that either, he and his friends took off back toward the school.

Rachel shook her head, then offered an outstretched hand to Percy, who gratefully accepted. “They were kind of losers, huh?”

“Uh… yeah.” He brushed off his trousers, turning to make sure Grover was okay, but his friend was already beside them. And he was gaping.

“Your dad is—?!”

The girl waved him off, “I don’t really like to use his name to do stuff like I just did— but you guys looked like you needed the help.”

Percy squinted at her, “You’re… new to town?”

She looked surprised, “Obviously.”

His face heated. “I just meant I haven’t seen you before.”

Rachel’s expression was quizzical. “Do… do you really not know?” 

Percy shrugged. “Guess not.” Dare was a familiar name. Hadn’t he tried to purchase his mother’s shop?

Confusingly, this response delighted the girl. “Well! That really doesn’t matter— yes, I’m new. To this town, the school, everything, really.”

“Where do you come from then?” Percy asked.

“The city.”

Percy’s eyes widened, “The one where the University is?” He glanced around them— the grassy field they stood in, the small town down the hill from the school, the farms, the forests, the sea— “This place must seem tiny if that’s what you’re used to.”

“Sure.” She glanced around. “But it isn’t too bad.”

Grover found his voice, piping up; “Is everyone scared of your name?”

Rachel grinned, “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” She held out a hand, “So what do I call you two?”

Grover and Percy introduced themselves as the trio headed back towards the schoolhouse.

“And what level are you both in?”

“8.” Grover answered, and Rachel looked disappointed.

“They put me all the way in 10— I suppose city academies move faster through lessons.” Her voice indicated that this fact didn’t particularly please her.

“Well, 8, 9, and 10 levels often have classes together.” Percy assured her. “We don’t have many teachers, so we’ll probably see each other loads.”

This cheered her up. And it turned out to be true; several lessons were held with Rachel’s level, and that Winter was the least depressing Percy had in a while.

Rachel was fun. She liked to draw, doodling dragons and fairies and mermaids in the margins of her notebooks— Percy wondered what she’d think, knowing that he was best friends with a real mermaid.

But he had met Rachel after Annabeth left, and Annabeth hadn’t given permission to let others in on her secret, so Percy kept that information to himself for now.

She told them about life in the city, the academies, the parks and avenues, the museums; Percy found himself daydreaming of exploring it. Maybe when Annabeth had legs…

Rachel knew a lot too. Political things that Percy barely comprehended, business things, art things, and more. She recounted the drama at her old academy, funny stories about pranks and romantic drama.

“But you’re our age.” Percy pointed out.

“…So?” Rachel asked.

“Why would there be romantic problems?”

Rachel laughed, “Well I don’t know! Aren’t we old enough for that sort of thing to happen?”

Percy realized that yes, indeed he was at an age where romance began to creep into the minds of those who would be interested in such things as adults.

And he found that this fact unsettled him.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

Paula’s shop took time to set up, but by November it had its grand opening, and Percy began to do his homework in the back by the printing press in the evenings— mostly because Sally liked to make dinner and bring it to Paula to share, so he’d sit across from them and practice his maths and essay writing between mouthfuls of stew.

“You’re squinting an awful lot over there, young man.” Paula tapped the table to get Percy’s attention— most of the time when adults addressed him as ‘young man,’ it was to condescend and scold. When Paula did, it made him feel as if she saw him as a literal, miniature man; a person, not just a child. “Do you, perchance, need glasses?”

Percy shook his head, “No… I can see just fine, but the letters…”

“Let me see.” Paula slid the paper back towards herself, studying it for a moment. “Would you mind describing to me what you see when you try to read this?”

Percy fought down his rising sense of shame, embarrassment at struggling so much with something most seemed to do effortlessly; “I don’t know… it feels all blurry and jumbled, I guess.”

Paula hummed. “I thought so.” She pulled a clean sheet from a pile to her right, picked up her colorful ink pens that so fascinated Percy, and jotted down a few problems. “How does this look to you?”

He took the page and stared at it. Suddenly it didn’t hurt so much to look at, the colors making the letters and numbers distinct and easier to make sense of. “Y-yeah, that’s… that’s actually better?”

Paula smiled, “There are many people in the world like you. I like to print editions of books with multicolored ink when I can afford the expense— extremely pricy, but it tends to help those like you.”

Percy glanced at his mother, who was smiling at Paula in a way he’d never seen her look at anyone.

That look felt like it must have meant something very special.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

In spring, Percy sprinted to the pond, eager to tell Annabeth about his school year.

He generally had little to say, as past winters had been filled with depressing events featuring Gabe, or bullies, or both, and school was equally miserable to recount.

But this year?

He had a new friend. He had a new adult in his life who didn’t seem to dislike him as other adults did. And while there had still been fights, and still things that made him feel horribly empty— the stares, the whispers, the sneers Sloan still directed at him when Rachel was away— at least it was better than before.

Annabeth was already perched on a slab of rock, waiting, and Percy immediately noticed a few things were different than before.

There were leaves covering her top now, a configuration of muted greens, grays, and purples held together with netting that tied around her neck and back. He found himself relieved by this— it had never occurred to him to feel uncomfortable with her lack of blouse before, but now that they weren’t as young as they once were and she was covered, he realized it might be inappropriate for her not to have some sort of clothing these days.

Then there was her face.

She’d dried herself in the sun, sprawled on her back on the stones and gazing up at the sky. Like before, her dry hair was somehow more gold in color, curling and bouncy rather than silver and sleek; her skin was warmer, her lips red and cheeks pink, her lashes darker and freckles decorating her skin among the near-invisible scales that shimmered in the light.

Annabeth propped herself up on her arms as he approached, smiling at him. Percy felt his heart lurch to his throat.

The complicated feelings were back, the ache, the suffocating pressure of both being too full and too empty all at once; it was as if being beside her hurt just as much as missing her.

“Hello!” She greeted as he dropped down beside her, and Percy noticed several strings of seashells and trinkets woven into her hair and hanging from her neck— including the pocket watch.

“Hi.” He responded, a bit breathless. “You’re back.”

“I am.” She agreed, laughing softly, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Percy asked, surprised.

“Mmhmm!” Annabeth reached beneath her hair, fiddling with something, then pulled out a short length of twine with a few shells strung along it. They were unlike any Percy had ever seen, iridescent blues and greens and pinks, and in the center was a single dark pearl.

He blinked at it. “That’s… for me?”

She laughed again, “Who else would it be for? Come here.”

Percy leaned over and Annabeth reached nimble fingers behind his ear and into his dark hair— it had grown over the winter and begun to curl around his neck. He felt her twist and weave the twine into his locks with a tiny braid, but she was… close. So close. Percy tried to ignore it, how her breath tickled his skin, how the fingers in his hair sent a shiver down his spine and her body was close enough for an embrace— 

But then she tucked the finished braid behind his ear, the weight of the shells strange but not unpleasant, and Annabeth pulled back with a satisfied grin. “Now we match.” She lifted her curls to show a slightly longer braid in the same place behind her ear, with nearly the exact configuration of shells— except her pearl was white.

Percy’s face heated. Luckily, he was saved from trying to formulate a response more intelligent than ‘incoherent gurgling’ as Annabeth flopped back onto the stone to continue; “You wouldn’t believe the winter I’ve had!” 

And just like that, it was easier to settle into the familiar routine and he smiled, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t think you’ll believe mine either.”

“Tell me.” She flicked her tail up to splash pond water at Percy, who was too surprised to dodge.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?” Percy chuckled, shaking his head and sending droplets raining around them. 

Annabeth tossed her hair off her shoulders and back onto the stone beneath her head. “Yes, but only you are allowed to without facing my wrath.”

“Oh you have wrath now?” He teased, “Do you curse those who insult you and smite the ones who wrong you?”

She pushed his shoulder, but was laughing too, “Only when they deserve it.” Annabeth shifted onto her side, propping herself up with her cheek on her hand, and looked up at Percy with an expression so soft it felt like it was melting him from the inside out. “Tell me? Please? I want to know everything you and Grover did!”

Percy hummed, pretending to think long and hard about it. “Well… only since you said please.” He lowered himself to mirror Annabeth on his side and face her properly. “Remember how Gabriel—” Percy suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken the awful man’s name in months, and he had to catch his breath a moment at the memory of all those years growing up with that man in his home. “How he uh, died? So my mom found someone to rent his shop, and…” He reached into the satchel he’d dropped just above his head, pulling out—

“Books!” Annabeth cried, sitting up enough to snatch up the top one and examine the title.

“Yes! She—Paula—she has loads of books, and she makes copies of all of them so anyone can have whatever book they’d like! She said I could have these ones, so I figure I can keep them dry for you so you can read them and all that—”

Annabeth tore her gaze from the cover to beam up at him. “Really? Any book?”

Percy blinked, forgetting how to speak for a moment as his brain processed the look on her face. “Uh— yeah, yeah! I mean, if you want a book on, um, a specific plant or something, and she doesn’ have it, she’d need time to order it then print copies— but yeah— yes! Any book.” He cleared his throat. “But that isn’t the only thing! We made a new friend at school.”

“Really?” She perked up, curiosity plain on her face. “Are they… do you think they’re safe?”

Percy knew what she meant; ‘could they be trusted with her secret?’ “Oh yeah, absolutely! Maybe I could bring her next—”

Annabeth’s smile immediately fell to a cooler exterior, her body going somewhat rigid while her eyes dropped back to the book as if she were suddenly entirely disinterested in the conversation. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

He blinked, not certain what happened to so suddenly change the tone of their conversation. Once more, it felt as if he had missed something important. “What? Why not?”

She shrugged, rolling onto her back and crossing her arms as her eyes fluttered closed. “I think two people knowing is more than enough. She might not be as trustworthy as you think.”

“I—” Percy started, then paused, squinting down at the mermaid. “But… I mean, she’s really cool, and I promise she can keep a secret— you let me introduce Grover with almost no issues!”

“But you knew him for years.” Annabeth’s eyes opened again, but she wouldn’t look at him, staring up into the trees. “You’ve known this new person— girl— for… what, a few months?” She shrugged. “She might not be all that great, actually.”

Percy was utterly bewildered. “That’s— look, I really think you guys could get along, Rachel—”

“I don’t want to meet her!” Annabeth snapped, sitting up quickly and shooting a glare in Percy’s direction. “I don’t. Don’t bring her here, don’t tell her about me, I don’t want her to know!”

He could only stare for a moment, unsure if he’d ever seen her look so furious. And the cause of that fury…?

He hadn’t a clue.

“Promise me, Percy,” Annabeth’s voice was shrill, “Promise me you won’t tell her, or bring her here.”

“...Of course I won’t.” Percy relented. This was something he’d never fight her on, never betray— it was Annabeth’s secret. He had no right to push her to risk, even if he trusted Rachel.

Annabeth’s body relaxed substantially, though Percy could tell she wasn’t particularly happy. “Thank you. Shall we talk about something else, then?”

But try as they might to finish their afternoon on a lighter note, Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong with Annabeth’s reaction, and the ache in his chest hollowed him out just a bit more as he trudged back home. 

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“...those who dwell on the rocks carrying nets will try to reel you into their catch. The last thing they want is for you to thrive in your habitat because they stand in their atmosphere where they beg and gasp for some air.”
― C. JoyBell C.

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Chapter Text

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’Do you think we can be friends?’ I asked.
He stared up at the ceiling. ‘Probably not, but we can pretend.’”
― Priya Ardis

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Percy was wise enough to avoid mentioning Rachel again for the next month, and Annabeth did not bring up the name either.

Despite this, it was as if her presence hung over them, looming just out of sight. He felt it every time he told Annabeth he couldn’t meet on a day, how the mermaid’s face darkened even though Percy hadn’t revealed his promise to spend time with Rachel.

This was the problem with not being able to introduce them— with Grover, there was never an issue. He had been Percy’s only other friend for so long, it never disrupted Percy and Annabeth’s time together when he was home for those brief weeks in the Summer, as he knew about her and was her friend too.

But Rachel was not her friend, did not leave in the Summers, and could not seem to understand why Percy would spend so much time in the woods by himself. Being unable to truthfully explain, he would simply shrug his shoulders and mumble something along the lines of “I dunno.”

“You ‘dunno?’” She repeated, raising an eyebrow

“Yeah.” Percy affirmed.

“Well can I come sometime?”

The answer had always been ‘no,’ for obvious reasons. But Percy tired of dodging questions, and splitting his time and dealing with Annabeth’s sour expression when he said he wouldn’t be able to meet her certain days was beginning to drain him. Until the day where Annabeth was the one who was unable to meet.

“My mother needs me to start learning things about the human world, as I’ll have my legs in only a few years.” She explained.

Percy frowned. “But you know plenty about the human world.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “But she doesn’t know that. There’s all this training they want us to do before we get legs, see. We need to blend in and act as if we’ve always been on land so no one questions otherwise.”

So Annabeth was not going to be there the next day.

And Percy wasn’t sure why he did it, but when Rachel asked what he wanted to do as they lounged on the grassy hills outside of town, Percy responded; “Want to go swimming?”

Grover bolted upright from where he’d been laying on Percy’s other side, face immediately filled with wide-eyed worry. “Wait, Perce, are you—” His eyes darted to Rachel. “Are you…sure we should?”

Percy shrugged, standing. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a swim.” He looked meaningfully at Grover. “No one will be there. It’ll be all to ourselves.”

Grover seemed to catch on to the implication, but his concerned expression did not ease.

“Swimming sounds fun.” Rachel hopped up, then helped Grover to his feet as well. “Are we going to the ocean?” 

“Nah.” Percy began to lead the way to the woods. “It’s this little pond. Nobody goes there anymore, on account of a kid almost drowning.”

“Cool.”

They made it with little issues, though Percy was beginning to feel annoyed at the constant, furtive glances Grover shot him throughout the journey. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Percy hissed as they stripped to their underthings.

Grover’s expression turned incredulous. “Wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you? You know she won’t like—”

“I told you she isn’t here, she had something to do.”

“But that doesn’t mean–”

A splash interrupted them as Rachel dove into the water. She surfaced a moment later, a grin on her face; “You guys coming?”

Percy grinned back, patting Grover on the shoulder before taking a running leap to cannonball into the pond.

He and Rachel spent the afternoon splashing at each other and laughing. Grover claimed he wasn’t feeling very well, so he simply sat beside the pond and watched them with a somewhat glum expression. Percy ignored him; he also ignored the uneasy feeling that welled in his chest. As if he were doing something wrong.

That thought was swiftly shoved from his mind. The pond didn’t belong to Annabeth, and she wasn’t even here. It’s not like he told her secret to Rachel. They were just having some fun on a hot afternoon. 

That was all.

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There comes a time in every young person’s life where they realize that even their closest companions, friends, or loved ones, still have unshared secrets. Sometimes it’s something small— your cousin has a birthmark behind his ear you had never noticed before, or your stoic father is fond of collecting statuettes of baby animals.

But sometimes, those unsaid things aren’t small at all.

And sometimes, it’s difficult to discern what hurts more; the truth being kept from you, or hearing it outloud.

The first time Percy was able to accept the fact that he and Annabeth didn’t share everything about themselves anymore, that something had fundamentally changed, was on a perfectly normal afternoon by their pond.

Rachel was away to holiday in the city with extended family for the next few weeks, so Percy planned to take advantage of all that free time to see Annabeth as much as he could manage to. She’d been distant the past week, distracted— Percy chalked it up to the pressure her mother was apparently putting her under as far as ‘human training,’ so he’d been doing what he could to make their afternoons as low-stakes as possible. 

Annabeth lounged beside him, half out of the water with her chin resting on folded arms as she studied a thick book of star charts and constellations laid out on the rocks.

Percy himself was on his side, picking apart bits of long grass, and weaving some into a poor approximation of a garland when straightforward destruction became too boring. 

Not that he was bored— on the contrary, his normally restless mind was more than happy to accept a moment of calm. He soaked in the sun and the sounds of birds, rustling leaves and the waterfall. Normally the symphony would harmonize beneath the melody of Annabeth’s voice reading to him from whatever book she focused on, but that was rather difficult to do with charts.

At last, she snapped the tome shut with a huff. “I think I’m in the mood for a game.”

Percy perked up. They hadn’t done much ‘play’ as of late, feeling too grown up at fourteen to indulge in much make believe or childish competitions. “What sort of game?”

“A race.” Annabeth said.

Percy grinned. “But I beat you every time now. Where’s the fun in that?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “If you’re so confident, then perhaps we ought to make things interesting.” At Percy's questioning look, she propped herself up on her arms. “A prize.”

This was rather interesting; they hadn’t raced in quite a while, and hadn’t competed for prizes in even longer. “What sort of prize? Something like…?” Percy proffered the sad string of grass he’d been working on, and Annabeth scrunched her nose.

“Mmm… not exciting enough.”

“What’s ‘exciting enough,’ then?”

“Well, what do you want?”

Percy laughed. “You’re the one who said there should be a prize. You must have something in mind— I know you. You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

Annabeth wouldn’t look at him for a moment, picking at grit in the stone beneath her body. Then she met his gaze in an almost defiant fashion, as if daring him to laugh at her. “A kiss.”

The explosive feeling that speared through Percy’s chest and reduced his thoughts to white noise was unlike anything he had experienced before. The blood in his veins was both too cold and far too hot, but his face was even hotter, burning with the strength of suns. Or maybe something hotter than suns. Was there anything hotter than suns? Annabeth would probably know. 

He swallowed hard. His palms were suddenly clammy, his smile having faded to nerves. “Oh— so— I—- a kiss?”

Annabeth nodded, her eyes remaining fixed on him though her chin trembled slightly. “Loser will give the winner a kiss.”

Percy immediately saw a flaw with this ‘prize;’ no matter who won and who lost, they would end up kissing.

Somehow, that didn’t seem important enough to point out.

“Um. Why?”

Those silver eyes finally turned away, and a tinge of pink lit Annabeth’s cheeks too. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like? To kiss someone?”

Truthfully, Percy hadn’t let himself dwell on the idea. Rachel talked about kissing sometimes, having past boyfriends and girlfriends at the city academy. Percy wasn’t sure if Grover had ever kissed anyone, but he assumed he’d know if his friend had.

But as soon as Annabeth suggested it…

Percy swallowed again, his face feeling very hot. Maybe he’d been lying to himself. Maybe he had thought about kissing; there were moments in recent years when he’d found his eyes wandering to Annabeth’s lips as she spoke, where he thought about how nice the shape was and how soft they looked, when he marveled at how pretty— no, how beautiful she was.

And he was just… who he was. Whatever that meant— he felt like an utter fool next to her. A strange boy who struggled in classes, was shunned by much of the town, and was just so inadequate next to this ethereal girl, smarter than anyone and deserving of a prince.

Yet she suggested they do such a thing as kiss anyway.

“Yes.” Percy found himself agreeing quite abruptly. “I mean, y-yeah, that might be… I mean, we should… that sounds like a fair prize, I think.” He swallowed hard.

Annabeth perked up slightly, though her expression remained deadly serious. “Ready?” She asked.

Percy nodded. “…Go!” 

He shouted the word with a sudden grin, darting off into the trees and leaving a cursing Annabeth in the pond. “Your line is supposed to be ‘set’ and I’m the one who says— ugh!”

Percy slowed as soon as he heard the splash of that silver tail disappear beneath the water. Why rush, when he could take a leisurely stroll to the finish line instead? It was a nice afternoon, afterall. And gosh, when was the last time Annabeth had beat him in a race? There once was a time where Percy couldn’t even dream of competing with her powerful tail. But he’d grown stronger, faster, taller, to the point that even the school’s rugby coach had asked Percy to try out for the team. Percy declined; he had little interest in sports, and the coach hadn’t been very nice to him before finding out he was a rather good athlete.

His thoughts had wandered.

Percy tried to focus on the task at hand.

Kissing.

Kissing Annabeth.

His pace began to pick up at the thought. It wasn’t a conscious act. One moment Percy was strolling up the slope; the next, he was jogging, then sprinting. One of them would win, and then…

And then.

God.

Wow.

Suddenly, Percy couldn’t move fast enough. He felt almost sick with anticipation, a feeling in his chest as if he’d swallowed a stone and it had gotten caught halfway down.

Foliage rustled and broke around him as he burst into the clearing; Annabeth was already waiting with a smug, triumphant look on her face. “I win.”

Percy flashed a lopsided grin, the racing of his heart having very little to do with his mad dash uphill. “Guess you did.”

They stared at each other.

The smugness faded from Annabeth’s lips. Percy felt his smile fall as the imminence of what they were going to do hit him.

Annabeth cleared her throat. “Shall we go back down first? It’s a bit muddy up here–”

“Yes.”

Percy did not remember the way he all but tumbled back down the slope to their pond. It would be wrong to do this anywhere else, right? It felt right, going back down for this. And then he was on his hands and knees on the flat stones, waiting breathless for Annabeth to make it back.

He didn’t need to wait long. She was just as breathless as her head broke the surface of the pond—wait, how did breathing work for her? Did she have gills? Or did she breathe normally—? Gods, he shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. Percy focused on the water droplets clinging to her lashes, the flush in her cheeks and how her hair was clinging to her face, her neck…

“Um.” Annabeth all but whispered, her fingers clinging to the stone, face inches from Percy’s. “Should I… should I just…?”

Percy nodded, unable to so much as form words.

He felt one of her hands reach up to cup his cheek, cool on his flushed face. His eyes fluttered shut, worried he’d chicken out if he could see her silver eyes, the way she was looking at him— he nearly panicked when he felt her warm breath on his lips. Then he heard her sharp intake of breath, shaky.

Then he felt her mouth on his.

Soft. Shy. Innocent, and sweet, and Percy felt like he might die in that moment.

He felt her pull away and opened his eyes, but Annabeth hadn’t gone far. Their noses may have bumped, had Percy the capacity to move.

“Um.” Annabeth said again. “That—”

“Can we do it again?” Percy blurted.

He felt Annabeth’s laugh more than heard it. “Yes.”

It was Percy’s turn to initiate, reaching down to brush wet strands out of Annabeth’s eyes before pressing their lips together again in another chaste kiss. This one was a bit longer, a bit more force behind it.

When they parted the second time, Percy felt like his face was aflame, and Annabeth looked how he felt. He pulled back, sitting back on his knees and unleashing a nervous chuckle. “That… um. I guess that’s what it’s like, huh?”

Annabeth nodded, tugging at a string of shells woven into her hair. “I suppose we both have experience now.”

“S’pose we do.” Percy laughed again, hoarse this time as he ran his hand through his unruly hair. “It’s…weird, isn’t it?”

Annabeth frowned. “It is?”

“I mean,” Percy continued hastily, feeling as if he may have almost said something very wrong, “we were just kids, you know? When we met, I mean. And then suddenly we’re…we aren’t anymore, are we?”

She blinked at him. “I…suppose?”

“I mean, we aren’t adults either—it’s in between, right? Like, now we’re—I mean we’re—” he gestured vaguely, another nervous laugh threatening to burst from him. “You know?”

“We’re…what?” Annabeth’s voice perked up in interest, as if anticipating an end to that sentence.

“Interested in that stuff.”

Annabeth looked disappointed. “Oh. Yes.”

…Was she hoping he’d say something specific?

“I just mean—” Percy scrambled, “I didn’t even realize that I’d start feeling—that kids our age started considering all that, you know? But then Rachel was—”

Annabeth jerked away from him, her face immediately hardening, and Percy winced.

“Why would— did you and she–?”

Oh gods he was stupid. So stupid; even if he wasn’t entirely certain why he was stupid. “No, no, I just meant—”

Percy was interrupted by an angry scoff from Annabeth. “You did.”

“...Did what?! ”

Was it last week?” Annabeth’s tone was accusatory, her face beet red. “When you brought her here?”

Percy’s draw dropped. “I–you–-but you had lessons—”

“You brought her to our spot!” She continued. “You promised—”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell her about you!” Percy protested. “And I didn’t! I just thought—”

“Never mind.” 

Percy had never heard her voice sound so tight, so hurt. And he still couldn’t really understand what it was he had done— sure she didn’t seem to like Rachel, but why? Annabeth didn’t even know her! Swimming in the pond wasn’t even really exclusive to him and Annabeth either. Percy had gone swimming with just Grover loads of times. But even then…

He felt guilty. He’d hurt her, and even if he wasn’t sure of the how, he felt desperate to fix it somehow. And Annabeth was turning away from him; what if she never came back?! What would he do then?

“Annabeth wait—”

Too late. She dove under the water, her tail giving an extra aggressive splash that soaked Percy to the bone, but he barely registered it.

Clearly Annabeth wasn’t telling him something. And he may have had an idea as to what it was, had the bewilderment not completely overtaken his critical thinking skills.

Percy wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, staring at the water. It felt like hours, but the sun had barely moved through the sky when he finally stood to make his way home.He tried to make sense of the ache in his chest. He tried to reason out what just happened. And he tried to think of how he might fix it. But Percy always felt like he was far more adept at breaking things than fixing them, and maybe he had just ruined the best friendship he’d ever had.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

"She is a mermaid, but approach her with caution. Her mind swims at a depth most would drown in."
— J Iron

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Chapter Text

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“The Fates and Furies, as well as the Graces and Sirens, glide with linked hands over life.”
― Jean Paul Richter

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“She’s mad. Completely mad.” Percy paced the patch of grass he and Grover had decided to lounge on near the beach. Well, Grover was lounging. Percy couldn’t manage to sit still for more than two moments, his entire body feeling as if hot coals burned in his stomach, or perhaps like a million little bugs crawled beneath his skin.

Grover’s deep brown eyes followed him back and forth, a frown on his lips. “‘Mad’ as in angry? Or mad as in—“

“Bonkers? Lunacy? Crazy?” Percy threw his hands in the air, flopping down beside Grover. “Hells if I know. Probably both—no, definitely both. Wait, no, that’s…” he stood again just as suddenly, resuming the dutiful work of trampling every strand of grass in their immediate radius flat against the earth. “…she’s angry.” He decided.

“But you still haven’t told me what you did to make her that way.” Grover ran his fingers through the trodden lawn, combing it back up into a more suitable position.

Percy once more collapsed beside Grover, this time to stay as he fell back to squash the poor green that had only just been rescued. His arms spread above his head, eyes staring at the big fluffy clouds that covered most of the sky. “I didn’t do anything—don’t look at me like that, I didn’t!” It was difficult not to squirm under Grover’s gaze when it was so utterly focused. Percy swallowed, hazarding another glance at Grover and his pursed lips of skepticism and raised eyebrows. He wasn’t going to accept that answer. 

“She found out about Rachel at the pond, huh.”

Percy muttered a curse he’d heard Paula shout when she smashed her thumb in the printing press earlier that week. “How did you—yeah. Yes. She did.”

Not even 24 hours had passed since Annabeth splashed away in a huff. Since Percy made a complete ass out of himself. Since…

No. Nope. He would not be thinking about the moments preceding that splashing and huffing. No way.

Grover didn’t look nearly as sympathetic as Percy would have hoped for from his human best friend. “Thought so.”

Percy groaned, draping his arm over his eyes, as if blocking the light of day from reaching his closed eyes at all could make it all disappear. “What does that even mean? You…what, predicted this?”

“No. I just figured she probably saw us. Or, well, you two.”

That was far from comforting. Especially because it was true. Percy propped himself up on his elbows, blinking hard at the sun reflecting in the sea. “And you think this isn’t an overreaction? It’s not like I want to have to choose who to hang out with, she’s the one who won’t even meet Rachel.”

“I mean…” Grover waivered. “I can’t pretend that none of her reasons for that aren’t likely to be petty, but Perce— we aren’t even supposed to know about her. She took a risk in trusting you when you met, and another when you introduced the two of us. Even if she doesn’t want to meet Rachel, could you really blame her for saying no?”

Percy found that he couldn’t answer. Not without feeling like he’d swallowed a stone and it had gotten lodged somewhere in his throat.

“I think we sometimes forget how dangerous it is for her to come see us all the time like she does.” Grover sighed, bending his knee back and forth slowly as if testing for the discomfort that often rested in his bones. “We ignore it a lot of the time, but… what would happen, do you think? If she was discovered?”

That particular thought had Percy feeling sick. “Rachel wouldn’t tell.”

Grover snorted. “Of course she wouldn’t. But the more people that know about Annabeth, the more risky it is; people might notice where we go. They could follow us. And you know how Rachel’s father is—”

“Alright, alright, yes, sure, just…” Percy groaned, feeling worse than ever. “Still. She didn’t have to get all mad at me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then his friend said, “You know she goes there every day, right?”

Percy shrugged. “We usually do.”

“No,” Grover shook his head, yanking up some grass to idly twist in his fingers. “I mean every day. Like, even when you guys don’t have plans or anything.” At Percy’s dumbfounded stare, Grover answered the question written all over his face. “I visit her, sometimes. When you aren’t there, I mean—when you’re with Rachel, and uh, I just…” he shrugged.

A strange and confusing sensation washed over Percy. It burned like the coals, squirmed like the bugs, but it was neither previous sensation. This was ice cold. “But that…why?!”

Grover’s brow furrowed in genuine offense. “Because we’re friends too—?”

“No, no not that, obviously, I just…” Percy swallowed, the knot in his stomach that had formed the previous day getting even more tangled. “Why does she even go if I…don’t?”

It was Grover’s turn to fall back on the grass, which he did with a heavy sigh that belonged to a man at least 40 years his senior. “Because she hopes that maybe you’ll change your mind and show up anyway.” You idiot.

Grover did not say that last part, but he didn’t have to for Percy to silently self-apply the apt insult.

“Gods…are you serious?” At the affirmative nod, Percy decided that maybe he deserved to be crushed just like the abused grass beneath them.

“I mean that’s not the only reason I visit;” Grover reached down to tug up his trouser leg, revealing a flash of metal. Percy leaned forward for a closer look, squinting. A device wrapped around Grover’s calf, hooked around the knee, and attached to several other bits and pieces. There were springs and hinges, with a mismatched collection of copper, brass, and tin plating. The familiarity of each individual whatsit nagged at Percy’s brain.

“She made you a leg brace?”

“Technically she made me four leg braces—one for each leg, two sets.” Grover bent his knee, showing how the little gears and mechanical aspects of the brace moved with it to ensure support was never lost. Percy had absently noted that Grover wasn’t using his crutches as often as before; they were generally needed every other day or so, but lately Grover had been without them for even as long as a week and a half at times.

The books on anatomy, machinery, medicine—Annabeth wasn’t just learning for the sake of it. There was intention in every request for knowledge, and Percy wondered what else he had missed, what other projects she might be working on that he had no idea of (despite providing the very means of education to make it possible.)

“When did she get four done? How do I not know about this?”

“You haven’t been there, Percy.” Grover let his leg fall, then the fabric of his trousers with it to hide the brass once more. “You haven’t asked.”

Idiot .

Percy added the name to his mental berating again.

So maybe he hadn’t been around as much. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to—he did! But Rachel always wanted to do things, always wanted explanations for why he couldn’t, and well…

There was only so much to do at a single pond.

Guilt smothered the heat in his gut, leaving just empty weight behind. He shouldn’t think that way; it wasn’t Annabeth’s fault she couldn’t leave. And it would only be a few more years before she could, anyway! Annabeth was about to be fifteen, then Percy would be too a month after, and then…

Two years. Just two more. And then they could…

They could…what? Travel? Percy didn’t have any money to afford that. Maybe he could someday, perhaps next Fall he’d get a job; he’d be sixteen, more than old enough to start working. But what else?

They could dance. There was the Midsummer Festival every year, with their night markets and performances and all sorts of fun things to do and see, and so much dancing. Perhaps Percy would learn all the dances so he could teach her. The thought of dancing with Annabeth felt strange. He could imagine how it would feel, lifting his arm to twirl her, the smile she’d wear, the way her eyes would sparkle, how her breath might catch when he pulled her back to him and their bodies pressed together and faces so close, lips so—

Percy leapt to his feet again, slapping his burning cheeks rapidly.

“Percy?!” Grover’s voice startled, “What–?”

“I uh—I need to…go. Apologize.”

He helped Grover up and they headed back together, Percy peeling off to beeline for home as his first stop. He rifled through his things, his dresser, his chest, beneath his bed, before finally finding it. And then he ran.

If Grover was right, and Percy hoped he was, Annabeth would be at their pond. Hopefully she wasn’t so furious she’d stay away.

A horrible, awful thought struck him as he dodged between branches; what if she never came back? What if this was it?

Breaths began to send sharp pangs through his lungs, but he ignored it. Slowing down felt like a mistake, every second felt vital to finding Annabeth there, as if that would factor into if she even decided to visit today at all.

At last, Percy skidded to a stop, dropping to his knees next to the water. And somehow, he managed to pull in enough breath to shout.

“Annabeth!”

The water was still, so he cupped his hands around his mouth and tried again. “Annabeth! Please come out”

Nothing.

But Percy was nothing if not foolish.

He called again. And again. He began to pace as he had in the grass earlier, but he never stopped calling. Five, ten minutes passed, and he refused to stop.

“Annab–”

“You’re going to shout yourself hoarse, you know.”

Percy whirled, his heart soaring to see Annabeth sitting at the other side of the pond with her arms crossed. He grinned. “You’re here!”

Annabeth’s eyebrows raised. “I have been for a while. I was at the upper pond, but I thought I might let you suffer for a bit.”

“I probably deserve it.” He admitted. “Won’t you come over so I can apologize properly?”

When there was no sign Annabeth would move, Percy did not hesitate to leap into the water, fully clothed, and swim over. Annabeth’s eyes widened; “Wait, no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Sure I do.” He made it in record time, pulling himself out of the water and feeling almost maniacal, shaking his head to rid his hair of water. “I have to give you something.”

She stilled. “Give me something…?”

“Yeah—hang on, I’ve got it somewhere in here—” Percy fished in one pocket, then the other. He felt one of the small objects he’d grabbed, but there should have been two. “Aw hells…Must’ve fallen out in the water. One sec!” And with that, he dove back in, muffling Annabeth’s exasperated voice saying ‘I can just go find it, you can’t even see clearly! You absolutely foolish—”

Percy kicked until he reached the bottom of the pool, glancing around to see if he could catch a shimmer that might indicate the missing item’s location. Maybe it should be impossible for him to find such a small thing, but Annabeth had been wrong; Percy could see clearly. It generally took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but once they did it felt no different from being on land, peering through air rather than water. He’d never told anyone; he learned young that most people could not see as he did, and the townsfolk weren’t particularly friendly anyway.

So he swam. And he looked. And it didn’t even take half a minute for him to spot the blasted thing in the sand. He surfaced triumphant, kicking back over to where Annabeth still sat with her crossed arms and pouty lips, neither of which could not mask the curiosity in her eyes. “You found it?”

“Yes!” Percy didn’t bother pulling himself out of the water this time, instead resting one hand on the bend in Annabeth’s tail to keep afloat as he held the other hand out triumphantly. “Happy birthday—I know it isn’t until next week, but I was an ass and I thought it might be uh…better to give it now.”

Annabeth blinked, then took the metal disk from his palm. “A coin?”

“Not just any coin.” Percy folded his arms on her lap, bobbing slightly as the water lapped around him. “The Professor—your dad—he was throwing it out, said he ‘didn’t want the accolades of an institution that doesn’t recognize genius’ or something. Said I could take it, and this one for me–” Percy pulled a similar coin from his pocket. They differed slightly; Annabeth’s was adorned with an owl and scroll motif, and Percy’s with a horse and sword. “He said they’re meant to be a pair, shared between colleagues of the University. See, they sometimes pick these long term partners to do research with and such, one coin being wisdom for finding stuff out. and the other being bravery for facing those findings—don’t really know what about science is so scary for that, but he said he hasn’t seen his partner in years and years and she’s probably never coming back and so I wanted to give you one and have one for myself and that way we can never forget we’re partners too.” He spoke fast, and was breathless by the end, afraid he may not get it all out if he paused.

Annabeth stared at the coins, the pout still on her lips, but her expression softened. “Are we?” She asked.

“Are we what?” He answered.

“Are we partners?” She asked.

“Of course.” He answered. “You and me—we decided that a long time ago, right?”

“I suppose we did.” Annabeth’s tail brushed against Percy’s legs, but he suddenly felt solemn. Unsure. Uneasy.

“And…I’m sorry about the Rachel thing. I shouldn’t have brought her here, and I swear I never will again.” At Annabeth’s skeptical expression and silence, Percy raised his hand out of the water. “I, Perseus Jackson, swear that I shan't ever betray the secret of this most sacred pond ever again, on pain of death—ow!”

The tail wacked him in the knee while Annabeth flicked his forehead; “Don’t say that, idiot! What if the fates decide to take you seriously?!”

“But I am serious! Dead serious—ouch! Stop it!” He took another flick to the ear, and narrowly dodged one to the nose, but at least Annabeth was snorting with laughter now, the dour mood lessened. A few flicks were more than worth her smile. 

“Get up here.” She patted the spot beside her, and Percy obediently hopped up as Annabeth took his coin from his hand. “Hold still.”

Her fingers pushed back his hair until she found the string of trinkets behind his ear, the one she had gifted. Percy could hear her rummaging in her satchel, could feel her fiddling with the braid, and gods it took everything in him not to shiver. At last (and far too soon) she pulled away. “There. Now do me?”

Percy had a harder time threading and tying the coin properly so it securely dangled below the pearl of Annabeth’s ornament. Perhaps it was because of the slight tremble of his hands and racing of his pulse that did it. Soon enough, they were a matching set, and he pulled away. “Forgive me?”

Annabeth gave him a small smile. “I already did.” She reached out for his hand to make the same flat, palm-to-palm gesture they always did. But this time, Percy’s fingers moved instinctively to interlace with hers, only to be stopped part way; the thin webbing that had developed between her digits recently wouldn’t let him complete the gesture. Annabeth stared down at their hands for a moment, then pulled away.

Something was in the air. Something had changed—maybe it had changed forever. There was a melancholy that settled over Percy as his heartbeat slowed and his adrenaline wore off. Maybe Annabeth forgave him. Maybe they would still spend lazy afternoons together, and maybe they’d always be connected, but after this summer…would anything be the same?

So Percy sat shoulder to shoulder with Annabeth, staring out at their pond, bathed in golden light and long shadows, glad for the proximity, a nameless ache wrapping around his bones, and he wondered if he’d ever feel whole again.

**

Paula allowed Percy to begin work in the printshop that Fall. It wasn’t a proper apprenticeship— Percy wasn’t certain just what he might want to train in yet, but after school and on days when Rachel’s father insisted she be home to meet important people visiting from the city and Grover was too tired to wander about, he’d go to the shop and help where he could.

He didn’t think he’d be any good at it, what with how letters frustrated him so. Yet the blocks were surprisingly easy to read, and Paula never minded if there was an error or two.

“As long as the meaning still gets across, who will really mind if there’s an ‘e’ where an ‘a’ should be?” The woman winked at him before going to help Sally with a basket of fresh baked goods.

Percy’s mother was baking again. With the printshop in the back and the books being sold up front, Paula declared one day that they simply must sell something that would pair nicely with a good novel. She insisted Sally bring some of her best recipes to lure in patrons.

Suddenly it was like when the shop was solely Sally’s, before the property was leased to Gabe. The smell of sweet rolls and jam filled danishes and honeyed doughnuts paired surprisingly well with the scent of parchment and ink. The news that Sally’s treats were available once more to the public spread quickly, and every morning there would be a line of folks hoping to snatch up a breakfast pastry before starting their day.

Paula began brewing tea and coffee to sell alongside the pastries, and books were suddenly being rented and bought by all sorts of people, many of whom Percy might never have thought would read for fun. He even saw Professor Chase, wringing his hands in barely contained glee at the thought of enjoying Sally’s homemade goods again.

It was nice, being immersed in the cozy shop’s smells, sights, and sounds. The dull wooden chop of the printing press producing the next day’s newsletter became comforting. Percy enjoyed the murmur of voices discussing this and that, patrons enjoying a mid afternoon coffee in the autumnal golden hour while he snuggled deep in the plush armchair Paula had set out. The shop was warm, not a hint of October chill making its way through the joints of the building.

He thought of Annabeth.

It would be warm where she was down south, likely warmer than the shop. Paula had been showing him maps, places she’d been when she worked as a journalist, and Percy recognized several names and islands as ones Annabeth had described to him.

Which one was she near now? Were they enjoying the coral reefs to the southeast, or the open ocean to the southwest? Were those older merfolk in her pod bringing back fruits Percy couldn’t imagine from markets he wouldn’t recognize?

Percy sighed, watching Paula and Sally wrap book orders together at the front of the shop, hip to hip. His mother seemed to glow in the warmth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so happy, so comfortable and free, and his own chest swelled. Paula leaned over to whisper something in Sally’s ear, and Sally’s cheeks went pink in turn as she swatted the other woman away with a laugh.

His chest ached. He saw them, and it only made him think of Annabeth again.

Percy missed her desperately. Their parting this year had been even more awkward than the last; a sheepish wave, a confirmation of when they’d meet in the spring, and… that was it. And he wanted more— he should have done more. But what more was there?

Annabeth would be back in only a few short months. He wanted her back even sooner. But something had changed, things kept changing, and with every year he felt as if a distance between them grew more and more. They had different lives; one on land, one in the sea. Something so small failed to part them as children, but suddenly faced with adulthood, with the future, Percy worried that the gap may become insurmountable.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. Annabeth was too important to him— she was his first friend after Grover, and their instant connection could not be broken so easily. It was stronger than that.

It must be stronger than that.

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧

“Words
like mysterious mermaids
come and live permanently
in the soft sweeps
and scars of my skin.”
― Sanober Khan

✧･ﾟ: *.☽ .･ﾟ*･ ｡ﾟ*:☆.･ﾟ✧