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It felt like the entire camp was on hold. No birds in the sky, no monsters, no wind, no idle chatter. Everyone was shut away in their cabins and it felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for Annabeth Chase to ruin the one good thing she’d ever known. She’d tried to do this before, but every time, the force of this thing between them knocked her down like a shanty house in the face of a tornado.
Oblivious, Percy sat on a log next to her, curly hair still damp from the shower he’d taken before coming out to meet her on the beach. He looked young with his hair wet and dark and coiled, dripping slowly at the ends where the water was forced to let go of the ocean boy. Annabeth hated the way he looked at her, back awkwardly turned so he could give her his full attention, eyes bright blue and searching. Her braids were too thick to tuck behind her ears when the curly leave-out strands blew forwards in the wind, and she was grateful for it because it allowed her to shield her face from his view.
They could not quest together again. There was nothing to be done except face it.
“Don't,” Percy said suddenly. Sometimes, Annabeth thought he could read minds.
She swallowed, still unable to look at him. “Don’t what?”
“Please don’t ask me to stay behind.”
His voice was soft and firm and Annabeth couldn’t hide from him any longer. When she turned, she was almost blown away by the intensity of his gaze. He watched her like she was a god herself. It only made things worse. Annabeth found her hands moving on their own accord, cupping his cheeks, thumb swiping just beneath his eye. Percy froze, like he always did when she touched him first, as if he was afraid the moment might shatter if he moved.
It was simple. If Annabeth let Percy come with her, the gods would notice. Like they had every single time before. The monsters would notice. They’d sense weakness the moment they realized just what Percy would sacrifice for her. The equation was simple. No unknowns. No possibilities. Just certainty. Percy said it himself once, he’d burn Olympus down if it meant saving her.
This is it, she realized.
They’d faced world-ending threats countless times. They’d stared death in the face. But it was this. This was what could destroy everything. No age-old prophecy. No godly will. Just a boy who would say yes to her every time.
Annabeth had faced monsters without blinking, but this—this devotion—was catastrophic. Percy didn’t love carefully. He loved like the sea; inevitable, relentless, willing to erode anything in its path if it meant reaching her.
“I would do anything for you,” Percy whispered.
Annabeth’s breath caught. She knew it, but her heart still sang. Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes to avoid having to weather the magnitude of Percy’s loyalty in its full force. When she pressed their foreheads together, she could feel the stickiness when his hair had been dripping onto his face.
“I know,” she whispered back. It was the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her.
She opened her eyes again. Gods, he was beautiful. Just as stubborn as she was.
Percy took a deep breath. His eyes were glistening in the moonlight. “But I can’t let you go alone.”
Annabeth nodded. She said again: “I know.”
She’d try to stop him, and he’d find his way to her anyway. Percy Jackson was a force of nature. Not much could be done to stop him when he decided he was set. For a moment, they just sat there, caught between the right decision and the one they’d always choose anyway.
The world might burn because of them.
The gods might regret ever letting them meet.
But for now—just for this heartbeat, just for this evening—Annabeth let herself embrace him anyway.