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The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the dining table in the Big House, where five demigods sat in a rare moment of peace. Laughter and idle chatter filled the space as plates scraped against wooden surfaces, the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat lingering in the air.
Will ever the doting boyfriend was busy draggin a reluctant Nico by the wrist, guiding him onto his lap before the son of Hades could protest. "You're always sitting like a gargoyle in the corner," Will teased, resting his chin on Nico's shoulder.
Nico groaned but didn't move away, instead picking at a loose thread on Will’s sleeve. "I'm not a gargoyle."
"You're my gargoyle," Will corrected with a grin.
Percy snorted before turning his attention to Annabeth, who had nearly knocked over her glass of water while reaching for a strawberry. With a flick of his wrist, he willed the liquid to hover mid-air before gently guiding it back into her cup.
Annabeth shot him a look but smirked. "Okay, no need to flex Seaweed brain."
"You’re welcome," Percy said, bumping his knee against hers under the table.
Meanwhile, Piper leaned forward, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. "Okay, so you guys know Alyssa from the Hephaestus cabin? She’s kind of cute, right? I mean, like, ‘let’s go on a date and hold hands’ cute."
Nico raised an eyebrow. "This is the third time you've brought her up this week. Just ask her out."
Piper groaned, sinking into her chair. "Gods, Nico, I know that’s the obvious answer, but what if she says no? I like keeping the illusion alive."
Will patted her arm sympathetically. "That’s the spirit."
The conversation drifted from there, shifting between light teasing and playful arguments about the best cabin traditions, until someone brought up an old camp prank war. Percy barely remembered what had started it—something about stolen pegasus treats—but as they laughed about the chaos that had ensued, someone offhandedly mentioned being trapped somewhere dark, forced to rely only on instinct.
Annabeth had been laughing just moments ago, but Percy noticed the way her fingers stiffened around her glass. Her posture went rigid, her breaths slowing in a way that wasn’t deliberate. It was subtle—something only he would catch—but it was there.
His stomach twisted.
The others were still talking, oblivious, but Percy’s entire focus zeroed in on Annabeth. The tightening of her throat, the way her shoulders curled in ever so slightly. She wasn’t here anymore—her mind was somewhere else, somewhere dark and suffocating.
Tartarus.
He didn’t hesitate. “Hey, I just remembered—Annabeth and I have something to check on,” Percy announced suddenly, pushing his chair back.
The others looked up in concern. Piper’s eyes flickered between them, reading the unspoken tension. “Everything okay?”
Percy met her gaze and gave the smallest shake of his head. Let me handle this.
Annabeth barely registered his movement until he gently tugged her up by the hand. She followed on autopilot, her mind stuck somewhere else—somewhere dark.
He led Annabeth past the cabins and toward the tree line, searching for a spot that gave them a little more privacy. The moment they neared the forest, her knees buckled, and Percy adjusted his grip just in time to ease her down onto the grass.
Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing unsteady. She pressed a shaking hand against her chest, fingers curling against the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes darted around wildly, unseeing.
Percy crouched beside her, his own heart hammering. "Okay, you're safe," he murmured. "You hear me? We're at camp. You're safe."
She nodded, but her breathing remained shallow, uneven.
Percy took her hand, rubbing slow, steady circles against her palm. "I need you to match my breathing, okay? Just focus on me."
He inhaled deeply, exaggerating the motion so she could see it. Then he let it out slowly. "In… and out."
Annabeth clenched her jaw but tried, her breath shuddering as she followed his lead.
"That’s it. Keep going." He kept his voice low, grounding. "You’re not there. You’re here, with me. What do you hear?"
Annabeth swallowed hard before rasping, "The wind. The leaves. Your voice."
"Good." He squeezed her fingers gently. "What do you see?"
"The grass," she whispered. "The trees. You."
"What do you feel?"
She exhaled slowly, her muscles finally beginning to unclench. "Your hand."
"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm right here."
They sat there in the quiet, the tension gradually draining from her shoulders. When her breathing finally evened out, Percy decided she needed a distraction.
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a stream of water from a nearby bird fountain. The liquid twisted and swirled above them, shaping itself into intricate loops and spirals. He made it dance between his fingers, weaving it into playful figures—tiny hippocampi, a swan, a trident. The water glowed faintly in the fading sunlight.
Annabeth watched, mesmerized. "Show-off," she muttered, but her voice was softer now, lighter.
Percy smirked. "I live to impress."
She rolled her eyes while huffing a quiet laugh, and Percy considered that a victory.
A few moments later, Annabeth’s head dipped against his shoulder. Before he could make a joke about her being tired, he realized she had already fallen asleep. The exhaustion had caught up with her, and he wasn’t about to wake her.
Instead, he adjusted his position, letting her rest against him comfortably keeping her close. He ran his fingers through her curls absentmindedly, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head.
The others at camp saw them as heroes, as legends.
But right now, they were just two tired kids who had survived more than anyone ever should. The war had taken more from them than they could ever express, and the scars it left behind would never fully fade. But in moments like this—wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other—they found a way to keep going. Together.