Chapter Text
“ANNABETH!!! No! Let me go! Annabeth!” Percy struggles to free himself from the Hunters. They’re strong, but for once, Percy doesn’t care about fighting fair. He elbows the girls holding him back in their guts and makes a break for it, dashing toward the edge of the cliff. He stares down at the dark, murky water. It’s FAR.
“No, Percy, don’t!” Grover calls out. From below, Annabeth’s cries carry across the wind, and that’s all the motivation Percy needs.
He backs up to get a running start, then hurls him off the cliff. Panic and adrenaline almost overtake him. Coming to his senses, Percy manipulates the water to reach out to grab him like his dad did at the St. Louis Arch. Immediately upon impact, his body is in searing pain. The sea is ice cold, so cold that it feels like it’s burning his skin. Percy gasps in pain, but when he tries to breathe in, he chokes on the water. Percy is strong enough to swim to the surface, although he can’t control the current. Whatever this icy black water is, maybe his father doesn’t have dominion over it.
Percy kicks over to a nearby rock ledge, but it’s too slippery, and the fiery, icy water is causing his hands too much pain to grip onto anything. He can’t even shout for help. Fortunately, he doesn’t need to.
Annabeth appears at the edge of the ledge. She bends down and stretches her hand out toward Percy, smirking and shaking her head in amusement. “Come on, Seaweed Brain. I’ve got you.”
Percy grasps Annabeth’s hand. It’s strong, warm, and familiar. The last time he and Annabeth held hands was when she dragged him onto the dance floor at Westover Hall. It definitely caught him off guard a bit. However, if he knew that Annabeth would be abducted by Luke’s “Kronies” shortly after, Percy would’ve held onto her a little tighter and never let go. Instead, he got all argumentative and picked a fight when she told him about possibly joining the Hunters. Great job, Jackson.
As soon as Percy is on solid ground again, Annabeth’s expression turns urgent and fearful. “Come find me, Percy.”
The dream swirls in shades of blue and gray, transforming into what appears to be the inside of a cave. Luke, the scumbag traitor, lifts a shivering, debilitated Annabeth away from the crushing weight of the ceiling, having been replaced by Artemis, and hands her to the General.
Annabeth looks awful! Well, that is to say, she always looks good, but her light pink scale-like dress is now covered in dirt, torn and frayed at the bottom. Her feet are bare; the strappy heels she was wearing at the dance have been discarded. Gravel is embedded in her knees. She looks freezing and at the point of exhaustion, no energy left to fight. Tears have cut tracks along the grime on her face. Her braided half-updo is disheveled. And the dark strands in front of Annabeth’s face now have a one-inch-thick streak of gray. How that happened, Percy’s not entirely sure, possibly some sort of curse due to holding up the cave ceiling. Luke also has a small section of gray in his hair, and Percy hates that it’s another thing tying him to Annabeth.
“Annabeth!” Percy shouts. But this is a dream. She can’t hear him.
“Three more days,” the General says with a deep, booming voice. “Are you sure your plan will work? Why not kill her now?”
“He’ll come for her,” Luke states definitively. “I know it.”
Even though she’s barely conscious, the look Annabeth gives Luke is not one of fear; it’s defeat and betrayal. He can’t even meet her eyes, his own filled with guilt.
“Annabeth!” Percy shouts again, even though he knows it's useless. “Hold fast, Wise Girl! I’ll find you! I swear on the River Styx!” He knows he’s probably walking into a trap, but he doesn’t care. Hell, he couldn’t care less about what happens to Artemis. Annabeth is his priority.
The dream fades to black, then Percy wakes with a start, sitting upright, clutching his heart, already hyperventilating.
“You alright there, mate?” Thalia says from across the dwindling fire she made earlier.
Percy rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to erase the images in his head. “I had another nightmare.” Six months ago, Percy had another haunting dream that sent him spiraling into a frenzy. At least he had Annabeth to talk him down a bit. He doesn’t think talking to Thalia would have the same effect. But he and Thalia are pretty similar. Percy sometimes forgets that they actually can get along and relate to one another when they’re not at each other’s throats, especially both being children of the Big Three.
Percy glances across the firepit at her. She seems pensive, mindlessly poking the edge of the embers with her spear. “You can’t sleep?”
“I don’t sleep well, not out in the open, at least.” Whenever she was on the run after leaving home, Thalia would be on high alert, always checking over her shoulder for possible monster attacks, whether magical or mortal. It got a little better with Luke to watch her back. She felt safe enough to let her guard down around him. Then, when Annabeth came along, Thalia worried about the extra responsibility. After what happened to Jason, Thalia couldn’t let that happen to another child under her care. Maybe that’s why she kept the little girl at arm’s length at first. “What happened in your nightmare?”
“I saw Annabeth… and Luke.” Percy thinks he sees Thalia grimace at the second name. “They’re in some sort of cave. They’re keeping her alive, at least through the winter solstice. We gotta get there… soon. Let’s move out as soon as it’s light.”
“And Artemis… was she there as well?”
“Oh. Yeah. She’s alive. But she looks rough.” He doesn’t really want to elaborate further or talk about the first part of his dream. The only people he really wants to talk about it are Grover, who is asleep, or Annabeth, who is obviously missing.
“She’s the only reason you’re here on this quest. Annabeth.”
It’s a statement, not a question. Percy wrings his hands, anxious under Thalia’s scrutinizing gaze. Is it that obvious? “Yeah.”
Thalia stares at him for a few seconds more, debating whether or not she should share what's on her mind. Eventually, the desire to protect her sister wins out. “You know, it’s because of you Annabeth was thinking of joining the Hunters.”
Percy is taken aback. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” From the sleeping bag on Percy’s right, Grover groans in annoyance at being disturbed from slumber.
“She told me what you said this summer, how if it came down to saving her or Olympus, you would burn it to the ground.”
Percy catches a glimpse of a slight smug smile on Thalia’s face. He can’t tell if it’s out of pride that she would probably do the same thing, or whether it’s from amusement. The implication of the latter makes his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Hopefully, it’s not visible in the glow of the flickering flames. “So? Annabeth’s my friend. She’s been there for me more than the gods have. Out of anyone, I thought you could understand that.”
“Believe me, I do. I want nothing to do with my father.” Thalia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, reliving the traumatic confrontation with her father that was somehow over six years ago, even though it only feels like six months. “Other than Grover, Annabeth is the only person I have left from my old life.” Luke is a traitor. Her mum is dead. Her little brother, probably long dead as well. And the few friends she managed to make as a child are still back in London. “I’d do almost anything for her. But she believes saving Olympus is more important. Duty to the good of all over personal loyalty. Your loyalty to Annabeth could be dangerous.”
Percy is well aware of how his fatal flaw could pose a threat to Olympus. In fact, he acted on it when he sacrificed the Golden Fleece to save her back in June. In his head, even though Percy knew that it could mean the death of camp and the rise of Kronos, he didn’t care. Even after his horrific dream, he didn’t regret it, and he would do it again without a second thought, no hesitation.
“So in Annabeth’s mind, if she can take herself off the chessboard,” Thalia’s eyes drift out of focus for a second or two, then lock in on Percy again, “you won’t have to concern yourself with her safety anymore.”
Percy feels both sick to his stomach and hot with rage. He wants to worry about Annabeth. That’s what they do, they protect each other, they save each other. If Artemis takes Annabeth away from him, Percy might actually strangle the goddess himself with his bare hands. Not that it would actually kill her, thanks to being immortal and everything. Unfortunately, Zoë would probably lodge an arrow in his back for trying. “And I bet you’re encouraging her to go along with it, huh?”
Thalia raises her eyebrows, warning him to watch his tone. “Annabeth is wise enough to make up her own mind.”
“Still, you want her to join.” Thalia’s silence is all the confirmation Percy needs. “Why do you think you know what’s best for Annabeth?”
Grover rolls over to face Percy, still groggy with sleep. “Will you two please stop talking?” It’s a wonder that Zoë and Bianca haven’t woken up too.
“I’ve known her since she was a little girl!” Thalia declares, ignoring her furry friend.
“Yeah, well, I’ve technically known her longer than you have! You were stuck in a tree for six years!”
“Alright, so technically speaking, you’ve known her nearly a year longer than I have! Big deal!”
“Guys, it’s not a competition!” Grover protests. Why does he always have to play referee? “We all care about Annabeth! Can’t you two just get along for her sake?”
“Grover, if you sing that bloody Consensus Song, I swear to God,” Thalia warns, refusing to conform to the demigod version of that phrase as a pointed disdain of her father’s world.
“No! I won’t. But…” he sits up in his sleeping bag and rubs his eyes, “fighting isn’t gonna help us get Annabeth back.”
“I don’t care! She’s acting all ‘high and mighty’ and thinks she’s so smart, trying to convince Annabeth to join the Hunters!”
“Deep down, you know I’m right! Men will always let you down in one way or another.” Thalia wants to believe it’s not too late for Luke. Sadly, that’s probably only wishful thinking. “You lot are all the same.”
“I’m not gonna fail her!” Percy stands up and puffs out his chest. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
Thalia rises to meet him, throwing down her spear. “Come on, then!” she taunts, walking closer with her arms outstretched as if daring Percy to throw a punch. “You wanna have a go at me, Seaweed Brain? Show me what you’re made of!”
“STOP… calling me Seaweed Brain, Pinecone Face!” Instead of using Riptide, Percy raises his fists. Hitting Thalia in the jaw would be a lot more satisfying. “You should consider yourself lucky I don’t have a bo'le o’ wa'er on me,” he mocks in a bad British accent.
Grover steps in between them, pushing back on Percy’s shoulders. “Dude! Come on, seriously, that’s enough! Both of you!” Grover can feel Percy’s fury through their empathy link, and tries to overwrite it with a sense of peace instead. “Look. We’re all a little tired, grouchy, and hungry. And I think we’ll all feel better after a good night’s sleep. You two are gonna have to set aside your differences for the sake of the quest. We all want to find Annabeth, and bickering isn’t gonna help anything. So you two need to either make up or shut up. Got it?”
Maybe it’s the fatigue of worrying about Annabeth. Or maybe it’s the fact that Grover put his foot… or rather, his hoof down. But Percy is tired of fighting. “Sure, whatever.”
Thalia’s eyes dart back and forth between Grover and Percy, arms crossed. “Fine,” she states curtly. “I’m gonna go rummage for more fire fuel.”
As Thalia grabs her spear and storms off, the boys plop back down on their respective sleeping bags. Percy threads his fingers into his unkempt curls, head down, trying to steady his breathing. He’s still clearly agitated and stressed out, so Grover moves to sit next to him. “Percy, what’s going on?”
Percy stares at nothing in particular in front of him, unable to look at Grover. “I just… really wanna get Annabeth back.”
It doesn’t take their empathy link for Grover to tell that’s just a half-truth. “No, that’s not it. Why are you so against her joining the Hunters?”
“You’re saying you’re on Thalia’s side?”
“Well, no, not exactly. Although she’s right, Annabeth is smart enough to make up her own mind about it. Sure, I’ll miss her, but I’ll respect her decision either way. Why can’t you? What are you so afraid of?”
Percy wrings his hands together and bounces his heel. He’s not quite ready to verbalize it, but he’s sure Grover can sense it.
“You know you can tell me anything, right? You’re my best friend.”
“You’re my best friend, too.” Well, and Annabeth. But that’s… different, somehow, in a way Percy wasn’t willing to admit to even himself until now. His conversation with Aphrodite a few hours ago made it abundantly clear. “Last year, I thought I lost my mom. And this summer, I almost lost you and Tyson. Then Annabeth almost died twice. And I… I can’t lose her.”
“I know.” Grover sympathetically rubs Percy’s shoulder. “It won’t do any good to worry about it now. When we get Annabeth back, you should talk to her, tell her how you feel.”
The thought of telling Annabeth makes Percy sick to his stomach. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? But if he doesn’t try, he might regret it for the rest of his life. Percy heaves a sigh and gives Grover a tiny nod.
“Okay, well, if you’re good, I am going back to bed.” Grover shuffles back into his sleeping bag and lies down. “Next time we’re at a place that has halfway decent food, you owe me a burrito for waking me up to be your therapist.”
Percy huffs a quiet chuckle, thankful he at least has Grover to lean on. He doesn’t lie down quite yet; there are too many thoughts bouncing around in his brain. Instead, he rummages through his backpack, looking for an important item. He casts a death glare at the Hunters pamphlet on top, pushes aside the jacket he bought at the ski town gift shop for Annabeth (knowing she’d be freezing when they find her), then finally pulls out what he’s looking for: her camp necklace. She hadn’t worn it at the dance. So after she got captured, Percy held onto it as a kind of totem to keep himself sane and swore to himself that he’d personally return it to her as motivation. He spins the beads around with his thumb, then brings it to his lips, zoning out on the dying fire. If he can’t physically hold Annabeth right now, this is as close as he’s gonna get.
Percy digs out the last of the astronaut ice cream from the Smithsonian, tosses it into the smoldering scraps of wood, and sends a silent prayer to the gods, begging them to keep Annabeth safe. He doesn’t have much faith in them. Who even knows if they’ll even listen with such a lame, disgusting food item as an offering? But he’s desperate. Nothing else matters except that Annabeth is okay.