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He’d lost Annabeth in the crowd a few moments ago. If he squinted, he’d see her swaying braids as she went off to find Thalia and Artemis, leaving him to deal with his father on his own.
Percy almost pouted.
Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face his father, a face nearly identical to his own. He sheepishly ran a hand through his tousled hair before waving at him in greeting. “Dad…hi.”
“Hello Percy. I see congratulations for a job well done are in order.”
Poseidon’s fierce blue eyes stared back at him, and Percy attempted to hide his uneasiness at his father’s praise. Of course, the fact that his very, very absent parent was praising him made him feel good— great, even, but Percy couldn’t help but look around lest Zeus zaps them both.
“I would never let Annabeth down,” he said, and said it like a promise.
The god of the sea nodded at him, and Percy had trouble reading him to see (get it?) if there was anything else he wanted to say.
Not like he’d said much to him in the past fourteen or so years anyway.
“Your friend Luke…”
Percy snorted loudly, ignoring the side eyes he received from a peculiar looking nereid a few feet away. “He’s not my friend,” he blurted.
“I can see that,” Poseidon replied dryly, “Former friend, then. He…he once promised Hermes the same things you promised Annabeth. Luke was his pride and joy but…we both can see how the mighty can fall, Percy. Even the bravest do so.”
In the privacy of his own mind, he mentally rolled his eyes. Really, he had a hard time figuring out if the flare for dramatics ran in the Olympian family. He hoped the way his eyes swivelled around to look for Annabeth was subtle enough so he wouldn't appear too rude while his dad talked to him.
“He’s dead though,” he lied, and Percy was sure his dad knew that too, “And I’m alive so…”
Poseidon tilted his chin down at him, “He is not.”
Percy didn’t contest.
“The Andromeda is still about, and I am doing my best to get it down.”
“That’s good,” Percy said, pulling at the sweaty shirt sticking to his neck. He wondered why his dad didn’t try to do that from the very beginning.
In the distance, they both turned their heads to look at the source of a loud squeal. Bessie was being tossed around like a volleyball, giggling madly.
Poseidon sighed, and for a moment he looked, to Percy, like he was just a regular man off to save his pet. He disappeared into air, and he saw him appear right where Bessie was, making a grab for the creature and scolding the sea-nymps playing with him.
He didn’t have time to laugh at his own joke, because the minute his eyes left his father’s figure they met his favorite ones.
Except they were on his least favorite person right now. Okay, perhaps least, was an overkill, but she was certainly up there for how she treated— and continues to treat, Annabeth.
“You’re father puts a lot of trust in you,” she commented. Her back was straight, hair in neat plaits around her head. She looked down at him, almost mockingly, and Percy began to begrudge their godly powers again, because he was sure if Athena was mortal she’d just be about his shoulder-tall.
“Can’t imagine why,” he tried to whisper to himself so she wouldn’t hear, although the small glare she sent his way told him he’d failed.
“Insolent boy,” Athena replied, grinning slightly. It scared him more than his father did, “Do not judge me too harshly, I merely spoke the truth. Do you not believe yourself to be dangerous?”
“No,” Percy admitted, begrudgingly. He’d started to look for Annabeth again, this time with no semblance of trying not to look rude.
“You may prove to be useful one day…and yet your fatal flaw may be bound to destroy us all.”
Percy followed the direction of Athena’s gaze until they landed on Annabeth. She was laughing wildly at something Thalia said, and it was a sight better than what she was a few hours ago, battered and bruised from holding up the sky. Percy’s stomach clenched, his skin remembering how they brushed hers before he wrapped her shivering body in his jacket.
That was the worst state he’d ever seen her in, and a state he hopes to never see her in again.
It made him physically sick.
“You’re…” she pursed her lips, staring down at her daughter again, “..loved ones are always what Kronos uses to get you to where he wants you to be. Your fatal flaw— personal loyalty, it’s dangerous, because you’d sacrifice the world to save…let’s say my daughter.”
“That’s not a flaw!” he protested, mindful of his tone, yet the abandoned fountain that was shut for decoration near them burst open. He could vaguely see, in his peripheral vision, Zeus giving his father a glare and Poseidon raising his hands in surrender. “Just because I care for Annabeth more than you ever could—,”
“The most dangerous flaws are those that appear to be good when controlled,” she hissed back at him, and Percy was suddenly reminded that she was the goddess of war strategy, “Evil is easy to fight, Percy Jackson. Lack of wisdom however, something you are very familiar with…that is very difficult to fight indeed.”
Percy craned his neck, balling his fists, and readying himself to say something in return, something he was sure his mouth was going to spill before his mind really thought of it. Before he does, Athena speaks again.
“I will be watching you, Percy Jackson. I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.
Percy snorted for the second time in five minutes, resisting the urge to throw his head back in laughter. Even in his exhausted, delirious state, he knew nothing good would come out of irritating Athena— arguably one of Zeus’ favorite children. He kept himself in check and settled for blowing out air between his nose— hard, even though he had a few choice words for the goddess, Olympus be damned. .
“Annabeth has been doing fine with or without your approval, Lady Athena. I’m pretty sure I don’t need your approval either.”
Her face turned ugly, and Percy shut his eyes before she could think to turn into her divine form and send his pieces into tartarus. Athena vanished, and in her place was Annabeth running towards him while pushing through the crowds.
“What did she want? Was she giving you a hard time?” Annabeth asked. Her cheeks were flushed, and Percy could see the tattered dress of hers was gone and replaced by more comfortable greek cloth. The slight breeze pushed at her clothes and hair, making her appear before him like some kind of vision.
A very lovely looking vision.
He gulped.
A few of her braids were let down, but a good chunk were wrapped around her head in a half bun-half down situation. The cuts on her cheeks and arms were reduced to a faint scar, certain to disappear with a few more drops of ambrosia.
Her eyebrows were creased in that endearing way again. The way they pulled together when she was worried, towards the middle like they were reaching for the same thing. Her big, brown eyes were glistening, and Percy watched her confused face tilt from him and the spot where Athena once stood.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, “Nothing I couldn’t handle though.”
Annabeth studied him with concern, her gaze a little fond too. Slowly, and because Percy couldn’t take it anymore, he touched her arm, lingering a little before he began to speak. “Can I,” he cleared his throat, cheeks flushing, “Can I hug you?”
Percy was dismayed to feel his ear starting to turn red, and he tried to turn his head away because he’s putty in the face of her doe eyes.
“Of course you can,” when Percy looked at her again she had a wide, almost shy smile on her face, “It's only right to grant my savior anything he wants.
His throat bobbed with something he couldn't place as he looked at her, and Annabeth’s playful demeanor began to fade. She stepped toward him, well into his personal space so that when he breathed in all he could smell was her.
Annabeth’s arms, bare except for a few gold bands Silena had gifted her, snaked their way up his chest, her palms locking at the nape of his neck. Percy prayed to every god present that she wouldn’t be able to feel the goosebumps that he knows are forming on his skin.
Her head rested easily against his chest, right under his chin, and Percy heard himself let out a small sigh. He jolted, wrapping his own arms around her hesitantly. One went around her waist, and the other around her shoulders, clutching her to him tightly as though she would disappear any moment.
“Don’t call me that,” he murmured in her braids, lips pressing on a particular pattern on her head, “Your savior, I mean. I’m your best friend, I’d do it again.”
“I know,” Annabeth replied quietly from her place on his chest. Right where she belongs he thinks with a lodge in his throat. “I’d do the same for you. You know that right?”
“I do.”
Somehow, those words meant something else to Percy.
They continued to sway to the dull music, with not a care in the world. Percy ignored everything else happening, a marvel because of his ADHD, but how can he not when Annabeth was with him after he was without her for so long?
The words were on the tip of his tongue, because the intent had been lingering in his heart from that very day Aphrodite forcefully made him realize what this was. How did he not realize it immediately? Percy saw it in the way his mom talked about Paul. Hell, he saw it in the way his dad talked about his mom. Absentmindedly, his thumb began to trace stars from his hand’s place on her waist.
Annabeth meant more to him than anybody else in this strange, supernatural world. In a span of a few years he’d learned about her quirks, her skills, her dreams. He indulged her gossip, validated her vindication, and gave her as good as he got in arguments.
Most importantly? She had always been there for him every step of the way, and not once did she willingly waver when it came to putting his well being first.
It just so happened that he was more stubborn than she was.
Percy felt Annabeth’s eyelashes graze his neck when she tilted her head up and closed her eyes. She squeezed him once, twice, before saying “I missed you, Seaweed Brain.”
“I missed you more, my Wise Girl.”
"It's never going to be easy for us is it?" she said.
"Never," Percy agreed, "but I have you to help me figure it out anyway."
He didn’t pause their gentle sway when he looked down at Annabeth, her brown eyes so earnest and bright and filled with something he’s scared to admit was probably reflected in his own.
He breathed in deeply.
He processed the smell of her, the feel of her, and the sight of her.
She was here.
Annabeth was right here.
And if Percy can help it, she will be right there, forever. Who cared about Olympus and the Gods and that stupid prophecy.