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The nightmares first started for Annabeth when she was 8 years old, a year after she arrived at camp.
These weren’t ordinary nightmares, no. She had been getting those for far far longer.
But when she was 8, in November, she had a recurring nightmare for the entire month straight.
At first her siblings thought nothing of it. Many demigods had nightmares. Many children of Athena had nightmares. Annabeth had always had nightmares. It was, by all accounts, nothing new.
But two weeks in, they turned into terrors, and somewhere somehow, Annabeth started screaming herself awake.
The darkness that surrounded her, the loneliness and the horror and the cavernous rocky valley that seemed to engulf her every night… it was too much for a child, even a daughter of Athena. Perhaps, especially a daughter of Athena. For Athena’s children often kept themselves deep in their minds. It was supposed to be a comfort, a safe haven. Clearly not.
At some point even Luke had found out about the nightmares. Annabeth doesn’t remember much about his reaction. Just the look of anger on his face when he thought she wasn’t looking.
After another week of bugging, he made her speak to Chiron. But there wasn’t much to say. Not much to the nightmare, and even less she could actually verbalise. And, as Annabeth had suspected, Chiron has sighed thoughtfully and said there was nothing to be done.
He sent her to the Apollo cabin to get a drop of nectar before she slept. Something to encourage deeper sleep.
Something, the first night, that had been no help at all. She woke up that night in silence, overwhelmed by the feeling of hopelessness and loss and grief. She spent the remainder of the night sobbing into her pillow.
The next night, December first, was Annabeth’s first dreamless sleep in thirty days.
~~~
Eventually, Annabeth and her cabin and Luke and everyone forgot about the whole debacle. She was a child. Children had nightmares constantly, they would say. Who’s to say what she had been dreaming about? Nothing good, certainly. But obviously nothing world ending. Nothing prophetic. Just a little girl’s imagination running rampant.
It was nothing.
Until a year later, November 1st rolled around and then nightmares started again.
No one noticed at first. That it happened at the same time. That it was even the same nightmare yet again.
And just as Chiron had said the previous year, Annabeth knew. Nothing could be done.
~~~
By 10, Annabeth had taught herself not to scream herself awake. Instead she woke up quietly but wildly. Eyes darting around, searching for an attack like she couldn’t quite trust an inch of her surroundings. She would shoot up in bed, thankfully still short enough to not smack her head on the top bunk, and frantically check side to side in the dark, only to squeeze her eyes shut if her head got too close to seeing behind her.
~~~
By 11, Annabeth is convinced it’s a sign. The sign. The sign she was due a quest.
By 11, Annabeth had started documenting the dreams when she woke up. Writing, drawing, scribbling anything that her brain would communicate. Most looked like gibberish by the morning, but that final night. The night that she wakes up and sobs uncontrollably until the sun rises. When the feelings of hopelessness and despair are most intolerable, she remembers.
And she knows. This is the time to tell Chiron.
~~~
Chiron frowns when she tells him. Tells her he had a prophecy from the oracle. She won’t get a quest until the right person comes to camp.
But don’t worry? She’ll know who it is when they come.
Chiron is of no use to her. But he looks worried.
That in itself is suspicious.
~~~
Chiron knows that Percy Jackson has nightmares in November.
The only reason he knows this is because Grover underwood, the satyr assigned to him, told him. Percy, apparently had been getting these dreams for years. Always, apparently, just before winter. It’s what convinced Chiron. He needed to see the situation for himself. And Grover was right, Percy was a particularly strong demigod. And with his father, well it might just be for more reasons than one.
Both of which, Percy cannot know.
One of which is infinitely more dangerous than the last. And should he find out, well Chiron doesn’t want to think about the tragedy involved.
~~~
Hermes visits Chiron after he is reinstated as activities director of camp half blood.
“Have you seen them?” Chiron asks. “Spoke to them, heard them?”
“You know then?”
“I suspect.”
The grief on Hermes’ face ages him. Ages this ageless face that has seen everything and been everywhere. And yet keeps coming back to the same place. Keeps watching the same story. Again and again and again.
“It’s different this time. I don’t- it’s different, they’re different.”
Hermes gazes out the big house window. Percy and Annabeth can be seen, front and centre, having a heated discussion with matching exhilarated smiles illuminating their faces.
Chiron watches with the god, as Percy’s expression changes, unsuspecting like the tide, into something of mock outrage. He shoves Annabeth, and quick as a flash a smirking back on his face as he rushes off in the direction of the cabins, Annabeth hot on his heels.
“It’s too early.” The god says, voice as firm as ever. But there’s something. Something that ages the ageless. “They’re too young. It’s not the same.”
Chiron says nothing. Just thinks about these two children with infectious smiles and inside jokes and enough trouble between them to turn even the most powerful god to grey hairs. They’re too young, certainly. But so was every other hero. So was every other victim of a tragedy. And each and every time this story plays, they’re too young. Hermes should know that all too well.
“They can’t know, Chiron,” Hermes says, all grim and all-knowing the only way an immortal who’s seen everything can be.
He wonders what they would do with this information. How it would change the outcome, if it would change the outcome. Things are different. He doesn’t even know if there will be an outcome.
But the souls are the souls are the souls are the same, no matter the time.
No, he thinks. Indeed they can’t.
~~~
Annabeth was almost certain that Percy was still alive, despite there being no sign of him, let alone life, after he caused the volcano to erupt.
They searched for three weeks after Annabeth got back. At first they don’t let her go out, and she quite frankly had an embarrassing fit about it. But Percy was out there, and certainly not dead. She would feel it. Annabeth always knew she would.
Eventually, three weeks in, everyone was convinced he must be dead. They planned to light a pyre, with or without Annabeth. And somehow, she just knew, even if it wasn’t the real deal, she would regret it if she wasn’t there. Even if it was only to hold it over Percy’s head for the rest of eternity. Once they found him, of course.
~~~
Hermes doesn’t stick around the way he has before, over and over and over. Somehow, he knows. He isn’t a part of this story. Not really.
No, it’s his son, Luke. Luke. Luke, that takes Annabeth under his wing. Shows her the way and protects her when her parents have all but abandoned her. It is he, who despite everything seems to push Percy and Annabeth together. Despite, it seems his best efforts not to. It’s him, and they’re all the more stronger for it, though Hermes knows his son doesn’t realise it.
These children, they were destined to be. And Hermes has to watch it happen.
But it’s like he says to Chiron. It’s different this time. And Hermes isn’t even in this story. Just an observer. Just another person- god, being, monster - standing in their way. Just a road block.
Maybe this is why he blames Annabeth for Luke’s turn. Maybe this is why he sends Percy on his way, over and over again. Quests and favours. Maybe he’s trying to get the ball rolling, trying to get back in the story. Maybe he just wants to see a happy ending.
~~~
They spent the winter break at camp together. (Two weeks leading up to Christmas and the two weeks following. A vacation worthy break)
It’s quiet at camp. And empty, but not lonely. Nothing like Percy remembered from when he was 14.
Maybe that was more to do with the fact that Annabeth was there this time.
But either way, this time was just theirs. No responsibility, no training. Just them, and their memories and each other’s company.
Their first day, they spend it commemorating the dead. Something worthy of their fallen friends. Something that would ease their guilt and sway the underworld judges to Elysium for each and every demigod. Something peaceful, after all the carnage.
The next day they spend on a picnic in the woods. Climbing trees, racing to get the highest. Stuffing as many marshmallows as possible into their mouths.
And if Percy kisses the marshmallow dust off her lips, well it no one’s business but their own.
Day three, they’re put to work. Collecting the magic strawberries that grow all year round. “No Responsibilities” Percy’s ass. But then again, frolicking in a strawberry field isn’t exactly work, is it?
Annabeth doesn’t seem to think so at least.
They eat enough strawberries until he thinks they might spew. Then spent the rest of the afternoon in the winter sun, lying amongst the strawberry plants, and staring at lady bugs.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”
Annabeth furrows her eyebrows. “I tell you everything before I tell anyone else.”
That’s new. “Yeah, but if other people know then it’s not a secret.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only if you tell me the same.”
“Okay,” Percy said. But he has no idea what to say. Annabeth knows everything. Probably too much for two sixteen year olds in a new relationship.
“Every November,” she starts, and a chill rushes over Percy, though he doesn’t know why. “Every November, I get nightmares. Every night for the whole month. It’s the same one over and over and nothing we’ve tried has been able to stop it.”
She shuddered, and her hands shook slightly, so Percy did the only thing he could think of, and pulled her into him. They were still lying down, so he pulled her to rollover until they were face to face, and let her tuck her head into his neck, cupped her hands in his own.
“Ever since I was eight. It’s been the same.”
Percy ignores his own growing horror at the ludicrous thought that he knows where this is going. He knows the end of the story before it’s really begun.
“And we don’t know what it is or why it’s happening. All I know is that I dreamt of some dark cavernous place that was terrifying and I always felt so alone, and like I had to keep walking, to get out of there. And-“
“And nothing made sense until we went to the underworld.” Percy guessed, but it wasn’t really a guess.
Annabeth looked up at him from where her head was still burning in his neck. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Percy sighed, and just studied her face. Her beautiful, pain stricken face and he hates how much they’ve been through already.
“Annabeth,” he said, unsure what to say.
Then her breath hitched, like a tiny little gasp. “You get them too. You- you- you get it.”
“I get it.”
And that was when Annabeth sobbed, in what Percy knew was relief.
“This entire time, this entire time no one’s really known. And you just, you always do, don’t you seaweed brain?”
He sat them both up and stared up at the sun, closing his eyes and letting it wash over his face.
“It’s us. We always get each other.”
She giggled as she dried her eyes. Then got up and offered her hand to pull Percy up too.
As they started their stroll back towards the big house, hand in hand, strawberry baskets swinging beside them, Annabeth turned to ask:
“Wait, was that the secret you were going to tell me?”
Percy laughed. “No, Grover knew that one from when we were in boarding school, and then the empathy link. I was going to tell you about the time i got lost trying to get to Dad’s palace a few months ago..”
Annabeth giggled. “What? You’re supposed to good at navigation on water.”
“I am! I just… wasn’t paying attention.” He trailed off pathetically.
Annabeth laughed outright. “How did you get un-lost?”
“I had to ask a fish for directions.”
“Wow.” Annabeth blinked, trying to hold back her laughter. “That’s embarrassing.”
“You’re telling me.”
He chuckled, and let her pull him along. Embracing the warmth of the sun, despite the winter. Camp Half-blood was good for that.
~~~
For the next five days they don’t talk about it. Instead, found other things to distract themselves with. Annabeth just revelled in the fact that he’s there. Still there after everything. She had known the great prophecy for years. Annoyed Chiron into telling her when she was 11 years old.
And then she met Percy, and it didn’t matter if he might die or not, so long as he saved the world. They weren’t friends. She didn’t even like him.
But then she did.
And somewhere along the way his smile felt more like home than her father’s place, and his presence was more comforting than camp half-blood alone.
And he was safe. It killed her to even be relived for a second, and she wasn’t. Not really. Because Thalia was like a sister and she couldn’t lose her again. But Percy was safe. And if Percy was safe, then they both might just get out of this alive,
And then it almost didn’t matter because either Percy would die, and Nico would become the prophecy child or Percy would die at 16 anyway. And she was back to mourning a friend still living and breathing before her. And all she could do was pray for his safety.
And then they were fourteen and he claimed the prophecy for himself. And to hear him say that. To willingly choose to die, even if he hadn’t even known it yet. That… that killed her. Made her ask herself why she doesn’t just follow him to the underworld anyway. What harm would it do? What would the problem be when all that is good is down, down, down and the only options are to bring him back or join him?
~~~
The realisation came in one day when they were just being stupid in his cabin. Lying on opposite beds, just talking about nothing and staring at the engravings he discovered at 14 from over 100 years ago. The last child of Poseidon, a girl that just wanted to be remembered.
She found the sketches on a desk across the room.
A dark cavern with jagged rocks. With shadows that just seemed to loiter and crept up on you.
A boat and river in the distance.
The back of someone’s head, details so precise, down to the design of the jewellery the person was wearing. The pattern on their clothes. Despite the dark and the shadows. She had thought, just for a moment that perhaps it looked like her. But it didn’t, there was no mess of blonde. No long hair. The character’s was short, but overgrown. Ragged, like the person hadn’t had a proper rest or a good comb through in weeks and weeks. The hands that seemed to stretch behind the figure, grasping at nothing, had scrapes and scars nothing like Annabeth’s own. Still she found some sort of kinship with the drawing.
The face of a snake, deadly and evil. Eyes glinting, as if it would follow you across the page.
And finally, a beautiful stringed instrument. A lyre, her mind told her after a moment, delicate and ornate. Absolutely beautiful. And Annabeth wished it was real. Yearned to pluck at a string. But she was no child of Apollo and no musician.
“What’s this?” She asked, rifling through the papers again.
“I got them out, after our conversation the other day. I drew them when I was twelve.”
And Oh. Oh. This was something. This reminded her of something.
“Stay here,” she said and bolted to her own cabin. She grabbed her own stash of papers from when she was 11, hidden under a floorboard under her bunk, and raced back.
Half of her pages are hastily scribbled lines.
‘please please please’
‘long way down’
‘a song to make stones cry’
‘let me take you home’
Her drawings were much less detailed than Percy’s, but she recognised some in a way she hadn’t when she first drew them.
A man and a woman, together in unity. Even without the thrones and the crowns, she knows. She just knows.
“Is that?” Percy asked, not even finishing the question. He’d pointed at that very picture, the one Annabeth had labelled in her head: the lovers.
“Hades and Persephone,” Annabeth whispered. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“It looks like her. Did you ever meet her, or him? Before we went down the first time?”
“No,” she breathes. Air escaping her as the realisations washed over her in huge overwhelming waves.
The second drawing is a funeral pyre. Huge and engulfed in flames.
A line drawing of a flower.
The last drawing she had looked like a hole. A big, black hole that was a long, long way down.
Annabeth stared at them all. Took in each picture individually then all at once. Then she dragged all nine to the floor, and started arranging them, like a jigsaw puzzle. Or maybe, like a storyboard.
Her end result was this:
The lyre, then the flower. Then the snake, funeral pyre and hole. Then, the cavern. The drawing of Hades and Persephone. The river and its lone boat, drifting softly. And finally the character, the back of a head that Annabeth felt such a connection to.
She finished her work and took a step back, taking it in for what it was, with Percy right beside her.
“It’s a story,” he said in wonder, as he stared at her work, their work. Their artworks, their dreams laid out and intermixed. Telling a story. The story. And it all made sense. “It’s a myth. Right in front of us, in our dreams. For years.”
“It’s a tragedy,” Annabeth said, voice small. But at least, at least they’ve solved this mystery. And all it took was one conversation and some shitty artworks laid out beside each other. “What do you think this means?”
“I think, there’s a hell of a lot we don’t know about souls. And I think, that if there was ever a time to beat the odds…”
He didn’t need to finish. Annabeth let herself get pulled into his arms. And they stood there, for what felt like hours, until one of Annabeth’s siblings, the one of two year-rounders in her cabin that hadn’t gone home, barged in because it was time for archery practice.
~~~
The next day, Annabeth woke up and Percy was gone.
~~~
Something was off with Annabeth. Granted, her boyfriend had been missing for weeks, and they weren’t any closer to finding him. But still, she didn’t seem to be acting the way a teenage girl - or demigod - would act if her boyfriend was missing. Though Piper also didn’t exactly know what she was expecting.
But something was off with Annabeth, it’s like she knew too much. But Piper didn’t know what that too much was.
She snapped at anyone throwing around the possibility that Percy Jackson could be dead - which, fair enough, it was a painful thought - but would turn around and start muttering to herself about potentially throwing a funeral anyway. Piper didn’t know why this was the type of situation where they would throw a funeral again, but she didn’t think she wanted to know.
Months passed, and Annabeth only seemed to get more stubborn, more determined to find Percy Jackson, but Piper thought she was hiding her true feelings, her real fears deep, deep down. It was just that no one had dug deep enough yet.
“Annabeth, come on. Just talk to me!” Piper had tried, not for the first time. She was sure Annabeth was hiding her true feelings, and that if she didn’t let them out soon, she was going to break.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Annabeth said, barely glancing at Piper as she studied a map of California.
“This isn’t healthy. You’re not sleeping! I know you want to find Percy. We all do. But-“
“But what?” Annabeth snapped, pushing her wheelie chair away from the desk of the Athena cabin.
“I know how you must be feeling. You don’t have to hide it. Just talk to someone! If not to me then someone else. Katie, maybe. Or Chiron.”
“You have no idea what I’m feeling.”
“Come on, Annabeth, it’s been months. You can’t tell me you aren’t a little bit scared. That you’re not doubting anything.”
“I’m not.”
“How could you not be?”
“Because I’d know if he was dead. Trust me, I’d know. Anything else, we can deal with. I just need to find him, get to him.”
“Annabeth,” Piper said, lost. How could she possibly know? She wasn’t a child of Hades, couldn’t locate souls.
“Piper. He’s fine. If he’s fine, then I’m fine.”
“How could you possibly know that? How on earth could you know that?” She paused. “Unless… Unless you know something.”
Dread grew in the pit of Piper’s stomach. What had Annabeth done? Who had she spoken to, what deals had she made? Had sheer desperation truly turned her towards some being, some god that would force her to make a deal for a sprinkle of information about Percy Jackson? What did she get? What did it cost?
The questions ran through Piper’s mind at rapid speed. “Gods, Annabeth, who have you spoken to? What did you promise them?”
For the first time in the entire conversation, Annabeth blinked, confused. “What, Piper? Nothing. This has got nothing to do with anyone, except Percy and I.”
“Annabeth, you’re not making any sense. Gods, I knew we should have been keeping an eye on you. But everyone told me you were fine! ‘Annabeth’s the logical one,’ they said! ‘She won’t make irrational decisions!’ I’m going to kill Will!”
“Piper. I’m telling you. I’ve. Done. Nothing.”
When it was clear Annabeth wasn’t going to admit it, Piper grabbed her wrist and started dragging her to the Big House. If anyone could wring answers out of Annabeth, it was Chiron.
“Ow! Gods, Piper. I can walk on my own. Holy Zeus.”
They burst into the Big House, and Chiron turned from his desk, frowning at them both. “Children, is everything okay?”
Just as Annabeth started saying, “Yes,” Piper cut her off.
“No, Chiron. Annabeth’s done something. I don’t know what, but it has to do with Percy’s disappearance.”
“Gods, Piper. You’re acting like I sold my soul to a demon!”
“For all we know, you could have!”
Annabeth yanked herself out of Piper’s grip, and groaned in frustration. She made to leave, but stopped as Chiron, very calmly asked to know what was going on. She stomped back over to the couch behind the desk, and seemed to make herself quite at home there, kicking her legs up onto the table.
“Everything is fine, Chiron. I haven’t done anything.”
Chiron raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to Piper. “And what is it you think has happened, Miss McLean?”
“Think about it Chiron! Annabeth’s boyfriend has been missing for months. Don’t you think she should be more worried about it?”
“Everyone deals with stress differently, Piper. Do you have any other evidence?”
Piper wanted to claw at her hair. Why wouldn’t he believe her? “She knows something Chiron! Don’t you think it’s odd that she isn’t more worried about his well being? I’ve seen campers Percy has probably only spoken to once show more concern about him than Annabeth has. She has to know something about his disappearance. Something she hasn’t told anyone else!”
Chiron turned back to Annabeth, frown deepening. “Annabeth?”
Annabeth sighed. “Of course I’m worries about him! He’s out there, probably all alone. Who knows if he even has his memories. We all know how dangerous a world it is out there. And Percy has a lot of enemies. Of course I’m worried. How could I not be?” Then she shut her mouth with an audible click of her jaw, crossing her arms. For the first time since Piper had met Annabeth, she thought she saw tears welling slightly.
Chiron turned back to Piper, assuming Annabeth was done speaking. “Like I said, Piper. Stress comes out in different ways for everyone. Annabeth has always been more pragmatic than most.”
But Annabeth piped back up, in a quiet, almost regretful tone. “But I have to find him. I have to be the one to lead him home.”
Chiron’s head snapped back to Annabeth. He pushed his wheelchair closer to her, seemingly concerned. Piper was confused, she thought they had just cleared everything up.
“Child, what did you just say?”
“We’re the ones that will beat the odds,” Annabeth ploughed on, seemingly unconcerned with both Chiron’s newfound caution and Piper’s confusion. “We lead each other home, but we walk side by side. Hand in hand.”
“What makes you think any of this will be different?”
Annabeth let out a humourless laugh. “How can it not be different? It’s already different.”
Chiron sighed. “How long have you known?”
Annabeth tilted her head, grey eyes studying Chiron like a battle plan. “How long have you?”
“Too long.”
“Long enough.”
“And Percy?”
“Of course he knows.”
“Do you understand what this means?”
“Not entirely. Or rather, I’m not sure why. But do you understand now, that when I say he’s fine, he’s fine? Do you get it? I would know. I would know.”
Piper wasn’t following along with the conversation. Clearly there was something she was out of the loop about.
“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?!” The exclamation came out louder than she anticipated, but Piper was lost. And very, very confused.
They both turned to look at Piper, before turning back to each other.
“This isn’t something we should be talking about.” Chiron said. “It isn’t even something you should know.”
“Well I do. We shouldn’t have been given those nightmares if they didn’t want us finding out.”
“You can’t outrun fate, Annabeth.”
“That’s the thing,” she said, and a wry sort of smile grew on her face. Something cynical. And Piper was sure that Annabeth just happened to know too much about everything. “I don’t think fate’s got anything to do with it, this time.”
~~~
Annabeth Chase is the type of person to approach any problem, look at any situation with an analytical mind, and logical reasoning.
Annabeth Chase is the type of person let go of all logic and react out of pure desperate emotion and first impulses whenever Percy Jackson is involved.
She’s just lucky, that up until now these impulses were the right thing to do. She’s lucky she’s not dead.
~~~
Hermes visits Annabeth Chase for the first time in over a year. No trace of an apology on his lips. Gods don’t apologise. And his son is dead.
He hadn’t intended on coming either, but the small flame she has fed behind his own cabin, with apple slices and sprigs of lavender (an odd choice, he admits) sacrificed to draw him in, has left him curious.
“Why aren’t you in this?” The girl asks, and Hermes’ takes a moment to study her.
He doesn’t bat an eye at the blatant disrespect. After all she’s been through - and everyone on Olympus had heard about the lovers’ exploits… down below.
The girl doesn’t look great. Her hair is a mess and there are bags under her eyes and there’s something about the look in the, something glassy and not all there. Something haunted.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermes’ says.
“The story. You’re always there, always the one telling it. Why haven’t you been here?”
“There are many stories, and many versions of me,” he says, and he is sure she knows that he knows. “How could I possibly know what you are talking about?”
She levels him with a look. And okay, maybe he was laying it on a bit thick.
“What is it that you think I know?”
“Orpheus and Eurydice. It’s your story. You’re the one that tells it. You watch it over and over and yet you keep on telling it. So why aren’t you here now?”
“Things are different, this time around,” Hermes says. “You met too early, knew each other too long. You fell in love slowly. You know this time. It’s a million and one things. Your souls are the same, but the curse is not. You weren’t given the trials.”
“We were.” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. “We were, though.”
It is at this moment, that Percy Jackson, the only one missing from this conversation turns up. He takes one look at the scene, at a god and the love of his life talking over a slow-dying fire, and is by Annabeth’s side in an instant, hands grasped together like they had never been apart.
“We were given a trial,” Annabeth says.
“Tartarus was our trial,” Percy finishes for her.
“You fell together. That is not a trial.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve spent my entire life searching for Percy, trying to bring him back home. He’s done the same for me. It’s like you said, everything is different this time. We didn’t need to attempt to save each other. We’ve been doing it all our lives. We’re practically experts at this point.”
“It was about staying together - not being torn apart, not running after one another. But staying. Falling together, losing ourselves together. Repairing ourselves together, when that very thing could have torn our minds apart.” Percy blinks tears out of his eyes, and pulls Annabeth over until he’s hugging her to him.
“You don’t understand Tartarus. How it stays with you, how it haunts you until you aren’t sure if you ever actually got out. How it convinces you that maybe, maybe you just deserved to be there, a little bit. That it is right and you are wrong, and suddenly you think that maybe you’re the one haunting everyone else. Percy never should have grabbed my hand, the quest was too important. And I never should have gloated my triumph over Arachne. Without it, without falling, maybe everything would have been normal. Maybe I would have begged Hades for his soul, just like every other time. But that’s not what happened.”
And Hermes finally understands. Because being together is what was supposed to have broken them. But it didn’t. They didn’t. “You succeeded?”
“We succeeded.” One of them says. And it doesn’t even matter who. Their souls are already so intertwined. One speaks, the other sings. One is happy, the other glows.
And Hermes, a god who has been everywhere, seen everything. Who barely felt a thing other than regret when his son died. Who is known for his mischief and his cunning. Who has a good laugh, and helps demigods out when he sees fit and abandons them all the same when he grows tired. Hermes goes back to his temple - the last left in Greece, far from any other god, if they even remember it - the last resting place of Orpheus, the original one, the one so different and so similar to the soul on Earth right now. And he weeps.
~~~
The first time Annabeth disappeared, Percy couldn’t explain it. The urge, the fire within him. The roaring tidal wave-sized need to go after her, to follow her. It had felt against his better judgment to go back to camp after she had fallen off that cliff, completely and utterly wrong. It felt like betrayal. And at 14, he hadn’t understood why he had felt like that. He hadn’t understood the itching under his skin, and the way every single thought seemed to be engulfed by her until nothing made sense without her.
This time, having to let her go was one of the hardest things Percy had to do. Because, this time he knew. And he knew the failure rate of getting her back. And he knew that with each time they found each other again, they were tempting fate. And he knew there was no where he wouldn’t go and nothing he wouldn’t do to get her back.
So he hated having to let her go, because that in itself felt like tempting fate. But she promised she would come back to him, and he would have nothing if he didn’t have trust for Annabeth Chase. And he trusted that they would be reunited again.
When they were reunited, Percy had a new realisation. Or maybe not a realisation. They had spoken about it before - being the exception, not the rule, but maybe this time he truly realised it. Truly believed it
Because the story plays as it does over and over again. But this time, when one descended into hell, for one reason or another, but certain of their death, the other fell too. Percy heard the muttered words, quiet and hoarse with strain and exhaustion. But he heard it the all the same.
“As long as we’re together.”
They dropped hand-in-hand, side-by-side, arm-in-arm. And Percy knew this time, that they were the exception to the rule. They would work out.
~~~
Grover Underwood knows his best friend. He knows both his best friends, actually. And he knows his mythology. It doesn’t come as a surprise when they tell him - not in so many words, but he pulls understanding from the two of them like he has been for years. Like their years and years of quests and bonding actually means something - because it does.
And this is what he knows about Percy Jackson:
Percy Jackson has always had a fire under his ass. Has always seen the injustices in the world, the injustices happening to him, and fought against them. Long and hard, and with everything in him. He reacts first, asks questions later. But there was something about Annabeth Chase. Something that had him slowing down, savouring every minute. Thinking clearly and logically because he knew, he always knew, this wasn’t something to give up.
Where Annabeth has never not been careful her entire life - learnt behaviour from before se even left home - she makes Percy careful, or at least at peace.
And where Grover has never seen Percy not take a risk - which contrary to popular belief is thoroughly thought out - he sees Annabeth take more risks than she has in her life.
These kids, man.
So he doesn’t blink when they tell him about it, after they get back from a 3 month long quest, and he hugs his best friend for the first time in 8 months. Just asks “Do you know who’s who?”
Annabeth frowns. “No… It’s hard to tell, it’s like we’re both playing out each side of the story over and over again. At this point, I dont even know if it matters.”
Grover smirks. “I guess it would be hard to tell, considering you’re as bad as each other when it comes to singing.”
At that, Percy and Annabeth both scowl, scarily in sync. And Grover thinks that maybe it truly doesn’t matter.
~~~
Percy is all soft touches. Loving caresses down her face, gentle braids in her hair.
His love carved into her from the lightest glides of his fingertips as he traces her features. Worships them reverently as if she is religion, god and fate tied together in one. He offers his faith, unyielding trust and unwavering belief in all things her. All things them.
It’s a terrifying and intoxicating thought. Terrifying because this boy - too good for the world and too good for her - has handed her a fragile, fragile heart as if she won’t break it, tear it into pieces, watch each last drop of red blood leak out of it. Terrifying because this is the biggest responsibility she’s ever had.
And intoxicating. Intoxicating because this boy has her heart in return. A heart once protected under lock and key, behind drawer bridge and moat, and walls so high they span from the underworld to Olympus. But this boy has been to both with her.
This boy scaled the walls, made a path through the moat and received the key directly from her own hand.
And she has never felt more safe. This feeling of being held, of being loved, and loving in return is a high she will chase for the rest of her life. From Percy, to Percy. With Percy.
If this is what Orpheus felt like, then she understands. If this is why he turned around? To see the love of his life, gaze once more upon her, just know that she’s there. If that one moment is worth a lifetime of suffering, then she understands.
For what is tragedy in this world, but loving somebody too much?