Archive of Our Own

It’s bright. Scattered sunlight seeps through a thin layer of clouds into a room, half of which is made of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a vast ocean. The other walls are covered in giant Greek-style paintings. At the far end of the room stands a familiar figure, slim and tall with dark curls, his back turned, facing a giant black stone sarcophagus with gold marbling. Luke. Annabeth tries to approach him, but her feet are stuck to the floor. She tries to call out to him, but her voice isn’t working either.

A teenage demigod with glossy black hair and an eyepatch passes Annabeth on her left, Ethan Nakamura, not even noticing her, and stops several feet away from Luke. “I come with news from the front, my lord.”

“Speak.” Luke’s voice is ice cold and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Typhon is stirring and growing stronger each day. It won’t be long until he’s broken free of his chains.”

“Good. And what of the minor gods? Have any more joined our ranks?”

“Janus and Hecate and… Nemesis.”

Luke straightens his posture, intrigued by the news. “Your mother. I am not surprised. Goddess of revenge, after all. I hear you gave up your left eye as payment for her participation.”

“A small price to pay,” Ethan utters shakily, then clears his throat. “My lord, are you sure… this is the best way to bring balance to the world? There have already been significant casualties near Mount St. Helens.”

“You dare to defy me?!” Luke forcefully whips around, his glowing golden eyes a vile reminder that he’s not really Luke anymore. “Who recognized you when not even your own mother would? Me! Who promised you a new golden age where demigods shall rule over all and the gods will pay for their negligence? I did! You swore loyalty to me. Don’t you forget it, boy, or I will make you wish you’d never have been born!”

Petrified and desperate to keep the peace, Ethan drops to his knees, holding up a trembling hand. “Forgive me! I apologize for my insolence. Spare me! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“You wish to prove yourself? Then I have a task for you.” Luke… Kronos… grins menacingly, sending a chill up Annabeth’s spine. “We shall go to battle on the sixteenth of August next year. On the third day, I want you to kill the son of Poseidon.”

The third day, August 18th, Percy’s sixteenth birthday. The culmination of the Great Prophecy.

Ethan’s limbs slacken, shaken by the order. It seems like he wants to protest; Percy bested him at their duel in the Labyrinth earlier this summer. Although he’s probably worried that any resistance will have him smitten to dust on the spot. So he bows his head instead. “Y– yes, my lord. I will kill Percy Jackson.”

Annabeth awakes in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, clutching the blankets in her fists. It was just a dream. No, not just a dream, a prophetic one. In the middle of the ocean on the Princess Andromeda, Kronos is orchestrating Percy’s death.

It’s been eight months since Annabeth learned the full contents of the Great Prophecy, eight agonizing months since she learned he’s fated to die when he reaches the age of sixteen. And six weeks since he learned it for himself. It hasn’t gotten any easier. In fact, Percy knowing has actually made it harder, made it impossible to ignore.

Annabeth sits up and switches on her bedside light, reminded by the childish pink and purple walls of where she is: her designated bedroom in San Francisco. She rubs her eyes, trying to erase the visions plaguing her mind. All she sees is Luke’s golden, glowing orbs burning with wrath where warm, welcoming brown used to be. Annabeth has to accept that Luke is gone forever, that Kronos has completely taken over, but she just… can’t. Despite all the terrible things he’s done, he's her brother; she still loves him. How can she give up on him when he was the first person to not give up on her?

Feelings of guilt and dread have been festering like an untreated wound. Annabeth should talk to somebody about it. Her gut instinct is to talk to Percy. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option anymore, not after what happened on Half-Blood Hill two weeks ago. There’s Thalia, but Annabeth suspects her sister would hunt Percy down if she found out what he did, or more specifically, what he didn’t do. She doesn’t want to get Grover in the middle of this and have him pick sides between his two best friends. He plays middleman enough as it is, and he’s already off on his mission to spread the news about Pan’s death. Clarisse could understand, given everything with Chris. However, she might also be jaded and biased by the experience. Plus, only a select few people at camp know about the Great Prophecy. What Annabeth really wants is an outside perspective.

How about Rachel? The redhead herself said she wouldn’t mind having someone to confide in about what she saw in the Labyrinth too. No, Annabeth can’t call Rachel. She doesn’t even have her phone number, and there’s no way she’s getting it from Percy. Even an Iris Message is risky. If she called during normal waking hours, Rachel might be surrounded by other mortals. Not a good idea. 

For a while, Annabeth thought Percy would always be there for her. Turns out, he disappointed her just like everybody else. She can’t even truly be mad at him, which is one of the worst parts. It was stupid and naive to get her hopes up. Everyone leaves eventually. Instead, Annabeth will deal with her problems alone. She’s done it before; she can do it again. 

Monday, August 30th, 5:30 p.m.

Annabeth walks home from a quaint little coffee shop near the coast. The last time she lived with her mortal family, Annabeth quickly learned that her brothers are a noisy duo, which makes it difficult to get any work done. So she likes to stay out after school to study and get a jump start on homework. The ambient noises of dishes clattering, general chatter, and hissing of the espresso maker are enough sensory stimulation to act as white noise, while being in public helps keep her accountable to be productive. 

Upon entering the front door, Annabeth is immediately greeted by the aromas of garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and rice.

“Annabeth, is that you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She wanders into the kitchen to find her dad standing at an open cabinet. On the counter is a slow-cooker full of something savory and a steaming rice cooker next to it. “What’s for dinner?”

“Beef bulgogi, Helen’s family recipe. It’s almost done. She and the boys will be here in half an hour, then we can eat.” Frederick places five bowls on the table and kisses his daughter’s head. “How was your first day of school?”

Annabeth shrugs. “Mmm, it was okay.”

“Just okay, huh? Is this new school really that bad?”

“No, you were right. It’s actually pretty cool.” In her design class, the teacher has already assigned the first project. They’re supposed to create a piece inspired by a favorite building or monument, which they’ll print out using a 3D printer.

“So what’s bugging ya?”

“Nothing, I’m just a little tired.” Annabeth feels like she’s under a microscope under Frederick’s scrutinous stare, getting the eerie sense that he doesn’t believe her. Why should he when she’s having trouble believing it herself? “Jet lag and all.”

“Alright. Why don’t you get settled in, and I’ll call you down when it’s time?”

Annabeth nods, then trudges upstairs to her room, places her backpack on the desk chair, and plops onto her bed. 

It’s weird being back. Annabeth was last here in July in the middle of her quest. After spending the night, she caught a flight from here back to New York to tell Camp Half-Blood that Percy had died in the Mount St. Helens eruption, which she didn’t want to believe herself. She still feels his soft, sweaty lips on hers, chasing as she pulled away too quickly. Annabeth has to accept that it’s never going to happen again, that their first kiss is also their last.

6:15 p.m.

Throughout dinner, Annabeth picks at her food as she only half-pays attention to the ongoing conversations. She hasn’t gotten much sleep recently, and since today was her first day back at school, her brain is flooded with new information. All she wants to do is zone out and decompress.

Her name being said once or twice brings Annabeth back into focus. “Huh?”

“I said your friend from camp called earlier,” Helen informs her. “I think he said his name was Peter?”

“It’s Percy.” Of course he would try to call and apologize. Whatever he has to say, Annabeth isn’t ready to hear it yet.

“Who’s Percy?” Bobby asks in a singsongy voice. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Her cheeks flush with anger. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oooh, Annabeth has a crush!” Matthew teases. “You’re gonna catch cooties!”

“Boys, leave your sister alone.”

“Matthew started it!”

“No, I didn’t!

“Enough! Your mother said knock it off,” Frederick orders. “If you can’t behave, no movie night on Friday.”

“Noooo! That’s not fair!”

“We promise we’ll be good!”

“Then listen to your mama and me!”

“Anyways,” Helen resumes, exasperation in her voice, “Annabeth, Percy asked if you could give him a call back when you get a chance.”

“Did he say what it’s about?” After her dream last night, a tiny nagging sensation in her gut tells Annabeth it might be serious.

“No, he just said he wants to talk to you.” 

“Okay,” Annabeth mumbles, lazily stabbing at a pickled radish. She’ll get to it eventually.

“Are you alright?” Helen asks. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m fine. It’s been a long day.” Is her melancholy that obvious? Ever since… well, probably since the start of the war, but particularly since receiving her prophecy, Annabeth has been on edge and feels like she’s fighting a losing battle. What’s the point of holding onto hope if she’s already lost Luke, and if she’s going to lose Percy permanently next summer, more than she already has? “Can I be dismissed?”

Frederick quickly peeks at her bowl. “You’ve barely touched your food, baby girl.”

“I’m not super hungry. I had a bite to eat at the coffee shop earlier.” If you can consider a handful of chocolate-covered almonds a bite to eat. “And I’m really wiped. Jet lag is hitting me pretty hard.”

Frederick glances at Helen, knowingly raising his eyebrows. Annabeth hates when he does that, like they’re having a telepathic conversation about her in front of her. “Okay. I’ll let it slide for tonight. But remember, the only way to adjust to the time difference is to stay up a little later each night until you’re used to it.”

“I know.” It comes off more annoyed than Annabeth intended. “Sorry. I know,” she tries again, smoother this time. “Thanks.” 

Friday, September 3rd, 3:35 p.m.

“I’ll have a small cappuccino with oat milk, please.”

“Your total comes to $5.63 with tax,” the young woman with a pink pixie cut drones as she flips around the iPad. “It’s gonna ask you a couple questions.”

Why is the barista staring at her? This part’s always so awkward. Out of panic, Annabeth quickly hits the 15% tip button, bringing her total to $6.47. Her newfound caffeine addiction is getting pricey. Maybe she should take to studying at the school library.

The coffee shop has a warm, cozy atmosphere. The walls are made of dark, stained wood; string lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating the area in a soft, warm glow; and a small shelf is lined with books in a “little free library” style.

Once her drink is ready, Annabeth retreats to her favorite small table in the back corner, out of the way of the hustle and bustle, and pulls out her notebook full of designs. For her school project, she considers basing her new design on the Parthenon in Greece. It used to be her favorite, even though she’s never been. But along with the Athena Parthenos, Annabeth’s idolization of her mother has vanished too. 

Annabeth puts pencil to paper, but her brain isn’t cooperating and her hand refuses to move. What could she even change about the Parthenon to improve it or make it her own? She flips through her notebook, hoping to gain inspiration from previous ideas, but nothing is speaking to her at the moment. Instead, she pulls out and opens up her laptop (well, Daedalus’s laptop), angling it so nobody can see the screen. 

Since receiving the device from the inventor almost two months ago, Annabeth has only scratched the surface of its contents. It’s organized into files: one for invention sketches, another for battle strategies, and one for blueprints of buildings and cities he had hoped to build. It’s so overwhelming, Annabeth doesn’t even know where to start!

Dishes clatter nearby as a busboy nearly drops the bin of dirty plates and mugs on his way back to the kitchen. Only now does Annabeth realize how loud it actually is in here. The lights are too bright, the espresso machine is grinding beans at a higher frequency than normal, and a customer on the other end of the bookshelf is scraping the prongs of her fork on a plate. Annabeth’s whole body flares up with irrational rage. Why is she hot all of a sudden? And why does her head hurt so much?!

Annabeth rubs her throbbing temples, takes a sip of her cappuccino in hopes the caffeine will help (it won’t), and pulls out her noise-cancelling headphones to drown out the surroundings. That seems to help a bit.

One of Daedalus’s plans in particular caught her attention on her first look in the Athena cabin last month: Plan 23. Most of the statues in New York City are automatons planted by the inventor himself over the course of American history. Well, at least all the ones established after 1860, since that’s when the flame of Olympus moved west. When given the proper authorization code, they come to life and defend whoever woke them. Did Daedalus intend to use the inventions to fight for or against the Titans? Annabeth’s former idol ended up being a self-serving coward, siding with the team he thought had the greatest chance of winning. After all, he gave Luke’s team the string of Ariadne to navigate the maze in order to save his own skin. If he hadn’t, and if he gave it to Annabeth instead, she could’ve found Luke before it was too late… At least Daedalus did the right thing in the end by fighting alongside Camp Half-Blood.

Last winter, Percy told Annabeth about a pair of automatons he came across on her rescue mission: two celestial bronze angels named Chuck and Hank, who flew him, Thalia, Grover, and Zoë Nightshade from the Hoover Dam to San Francisco. While on Mount Othrys, Annabeth was certain Percy was coming for her. She didn’t have any proof; she just knew, based solely on his fierce and tenacious refusal to let go of the people he loves. So why did he let her walk away on Half-Blood Hill?

A tap on her shoulder makes Annabeth flinch. She looks up, and a tall, lanky, college-aged dude, pale with curly dark brown hair, is standing in front of her. Luke! No, it’s not him. No scar. No gray streak. And Luke’s eyes are… were… chestnut brown. These eyes are hazel.

Annabeth takes off her headphones to hear what the guy in the apron has to say.

“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you. We’re closing up shop in about five minutes. We shut down an hour earlier on Fridays.”

Annabeth glances around the cafe. It’s completely cleared out, save for one person standing by the counter waiting for their to-go drink. “I didn’t realize it was getting late. I was in the zone. Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No worries, take your time.”

Once the barista returns to his duties, Annabeth swigs down the rest of her room-temperature cappuccino, quickly shoves the laptop and notebook into her backpack, and gets out of there as fast as she can, trying to ignore her shaking hands.

7:15 p.m.

“Okay, boys! Run to your rooms and get in your PJs so we can pick a movie!”

Taking their dad’s instructions literally, Matthew and Bobby dash up the stairs by crawling on their hands and feet.

“Anniebear, you want some popcorn?” Frederick offers. “It’ll be just like old times.”

When Annabeth first tried living with her dad, she joined in on the pre-established movie nights, bringing along the list of movies Percy gave her to check out. And back in February, when Helen and the boys were away for a week, Frederick and Annabeth had movie night every night in an attempt to bond. Not technically old times. Although he’d always let her pick the movie and they’d share a bag of popcorn. “No, I’m good. Not really hungry.”

“You don’t eat popcorn because you’re hungry; you eat it for the taste, that buttery, melt-in-your-mouth, crunchy, salty goodness! What if I add garlic or chili powder?” No response. “Oh well. More for me!”

As Annabeth makes her way to the staircase, the home phone rings. She already knows who it is.

“Hello, Chase residence. This is Frederick speaking.” Annabeth hesitates on the stair landing, waiting to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, Frederick pops his head around the corner, covering the phone’s mouthpiece so the caller can’t hear. “It’s for you. Percy again.”

Annabeth groans and sighs. “Tell him I’m not here.”

“Why?”

“Just… say I’m out with friends or something.” She hasn’t even made any friends at her new school yet, nor does she have any from when she lived here for half of the spring semester.

Eyebrows raised skeptically, Frederick finally puts the phone back up to his mouth. “Hey, Percy? Yeah, sorry, Annabeth’s not here. She’s out to dinner with friends. Yeah, I know. I’ll be sure to tell her. Okay, you too, son. Bye now.” Frederick hangs up the phone and crosses his arms, trying to put on his best dad stance. “Annabeth, what is going on between you two? That’s the third time he’s called this week.”

Annabeth should really call him back. Although what could he possibly say to make it better? “We got into an argument at the end of camp.”

“An argument, huh? What about?”

About her confession. About the Great Prophecy. “I can’t tell you that. You wouldn’t get it.”

“I wouldn’t, huh? I was a teenager once too.” Yeah, like a million years ago. “Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about girl/boy trouble.”

“Dad, it’s not–” Annabeth fumes, heavily exhaling through her nose at the implication. He sees more than she gives him credit for. Still, she doesn’t want to talk to him about it. “It's about demigod stuff. You can’t help me with this.”

“Fine, I figured I’d at least offer. But please call Percy back and put the poor boy out of his misery.” Poor boy, Annabeth mentally scoffs, and she hates herself for it. Because his situation really is awful. “Go on now and get changed. Movie’s in ten.”

7:30 p.m.

Frederick reenters the living room with a bowl of popcorn and settles on the couch in between Annabeth and Helen. “Okay, kiddos! What’s everyone’s top picks for tonight? I vote Flyboys.”

“Ugh, Dad!” Bobby groans from his floor pillow. “You always want to watch a war movie!”

Matthew nods in agreement. “Yeah, those movies are boring.”

“They have a point, dear,” Helen says, side-eyeing her husband. “You and I can watch it another time. Why don’t we pick a movie the whole family will like? How about… The Princess Bride?”

There are general words of approval from the boys as they act out their own imaginary sword fight.

“Annabeth?” Frederick peeks over at his daughter. “What say you?”

“Can we… watch something else?” It’s not that she doesn’t like the movie. Because she does… for the most part. “I saw it kind of recently.”

“You did? When?

This is surely going to stir up more inquiries from her dad. “Back in June. I saw it with Percy when I hung out with him in New York.” Frederick raises one eyebrow, analyzing his daughter. Wishing she had her invisibility cap on, Annabeth pulls her legs up onto the couch and wraps her arms around them instead. “Let’s just pick another movie.”

“Ooh! Can we watch Brand New Day?!” Matthew begs, making the classic web-shooter pose. 

“Oh yeah! Pleeeeease, Annabeth?” Bobby begs, literally on his hands and knees. “We haven’t seen that one yet! All of our friends have watched it!”

Since they turned nine this past May, the twins have been working their way through the most recent Spider-Man movie series. Annabeth was only here for the first and second ones, and the boys watched the third one while she was away at camp. But she doesn’t care much. “Fine, whatever. Give me a recap of the last one, at least.”

The boys quickly summarize the events of the previous movie, rambling on about magic and a multiverse and the world on the verge of collapse. A wizard cast a spell to save it by making everyone forget Peter, including his best friend, Ned, and girlfriend, MJ.

Once everyone’s ready and the lights are off, Frederick finally presses play. The movie opens to a montage of Peter’s daily life: fight bad guys, drop off flowers at Aunt May’s grave (the boys failed to mention she died in the last movie), work on suit tech improvements, and watch Ned and MJ’s college life at MIT from afar via Instagram stories. Before they left for Boston, Peter was going to find them and explain everything. He even wrote MJ a letter, saying that everyone’s memories of him had to be wiped to save the world, and that he loved her. But he never gave it to her. He still feels responsible for Aunt May’s death, so Peter ultimately decided to stay away from MJ and Ned to keep them safe. Now, he’s sentenced himself to solitary confinement, hunkered down in a lonely top-floor apartment, and when he’s not protecting the city, avoids human contact as much as possible. It’s starting to feel a little too familiar.

Earlier this summer, Annabeth told Percy she had finally seen the first two Spider-Man movies. She thought he’d like to know since that’s his favorite superhero. He was glad to hear she enjoyed it, of course, but also surprised, given her arachnophobia. “There aren’t actual spiders in the movie, Seaweed Brain,” she playfully retorted. The homemade webs Peter created don’t freak her out. Just real spiders. Well… and the tiny metallic spider Hephaestus gave her and Percy as a guide in the Labyrinth.

As the story progresses, Peter combats some kind of entity with the ability to hop into people’s minds and control them, except he’s immune and the only one who can sense it. While talking on the phone to the chief of police about it, he sees Ned in a convenience store, who, of course, doesn’t recognize him. Against his better judgment, Peter secretly follows Ned back to his apartment, where he’s hosting a party. Inside, they end up chatting for a few minutes when MJ appears. Peter is so awestruck, he can barely speak. She’s still wearing the necklace he gave her in high school, even though it’s broken and she can’t remember it’s from him. 

Peter has spent over four years of his life alone, watching them through a screen with only Spider-Man for company. It grieves him to see the only two people he loves in this world with no recognition of who he is in their eyes. So close, yet so far away. And when a guy he assumes is MJ’s boyfriend kisses her, Peter can’t bear it anymore and takes off, recklessly running on and swinging from rooftop to rooftop in the rain without his suit, on the verge of tears. He gets home, sopping wet, rereading his love letter, regretting never giving it to her after everything happened. Out of nowhere, he clutches his wrist and writhes in agony, eyes going completely black before he passes out on the floor.

Peter wakes up in a cocoon, and he discovers he can now excrete organic webs from his wrists. While testing them on the roof, Peter experiences a debilitating headache and sensory overload. Apparently, the arachnid hormone in his body has spiked and is taking over, which could be due to trauma and/or prolonged isolation as he loses more and more of what makes him human. Peter Parker has already been erased from the world's memory. How much longer until he’s gone completely only Spider-Man is left?

Annabeth’s gut swirls with shame. She feels called out, like this storyline was written specifically for her. Ever since the recent battle at Camp Half-Blood and her fight with Percy, Annabeth has been pulling away and isolating herself. And with her recent headaches and sensory overload, she can’t bear to watch any more of the movie. “I’m finna go to bed.” She says it as a statement, not a question, and heads toward the stairs.

“Now, wait a minute, young lady,” Frederick counters. “It’s only eight o’clock. Why are you going to bed already?”

“I’m… not feeling well.” She doesn’t want to say her head hurts, because that would be too obvious. “It’s my time of the month and I really want to lie down.” That should get him off her back.

“Okay, fine, ‘nuff said,” he raises his hands in defeat. “Go on, get out of here.”

Annabeth trudges up the stairs and collapses into bed. It’s been a long several weeks, not even considering her recent few days of jet lag. Between school and preparing for the war, she’s barely had any time to actually process what happened to Luke. When he was here in March to try and convince her to go on the road with him again, she said no because she listened to her head and not her heart. He had betrayed her too many times. Then, Kronos overtook him… he was the one her prophecy meant.

“‘And lose a love to worse than death,’” Annabeth spits out. “That was the last line. Are you happy now?” 

Percy doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks like he regrets asking her in the first place. “Oh, so… Luke?”

“Yeah. It was him in the end. But for most of the quest, I thought it meant you.”

“Me?” Percy asks, bewildered, the cogs slowly turning in his head. “What does that have to do with…”

There’s no way he’s this oblivious! “Gods! You’re so dense, Seaweed Brain! Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you!”

The silence is so loud, it’s driving Annabeth insane. Percy is speechless, face beet red. “Oh.”
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“Look, Annabeth, you don’t wanna be with me! I’m gonna die!” Percy shouts a little louder than necessary, but there’s real fear behind it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped and I shouldn’t have forced you to say what you did. That wasn’t cool. But I’m no good for you! I’m a black hole, a ticking time bomb, and I’m gonna take you down with me.”

“No, you’re not! That’s not true!” Tears of sorrow well up in Annabeth’s eyes, compassion temporarily overriding her anger. How could he think such awful things about himself?!
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“Really? Tell me, then, Percy. What do you want? What is it? Am I too much for you?”

“No! No, you’re not too much for me.” Percy closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if the very suggestion is abominable to him. “It’s not you, it’s all of it: the war, the prophecy, my fate. No matter how much I want… Oh, and I do want—" he swallows hard, the remaining words getting stuck in his throat, "I can’t even think about that kind of stuff right now. I’m sorry.”
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As she turns to leave, Percy reaches out and grabs her hand. “Annabeth, wait!” He invades her space again, so close she feels his ragged breath tickling her face, sending shivers up her spine. Move, dumbass! Kiss me! Say “don’t go” or “I love you, too.” Do something! Say something. Anything!

Percy’s eyes slowly trail up to meet hers, and when he eventually speaks, it comes out in a shaky whisper. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

The words sting like a knife to the gut. Annabeth knew it was a shot in the dark, and she’s tired of waiting. Instead, she resigns herself to release Percy from what he’s clearly not ready for, even though it breaks her own heart to do it. “Too late. You already have.”

Annabeth curls up in bed, silent tears leaking onto the pillow as the memories echo in her head. She’s lost her brother and her best friend (who she’s inconveniently in love with). If she had listened to her heart when Luke showed up this spring, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Now she doesn’t have the luxury of being soft and sentimental anymore, not if they want to win the war against Kronos next year. Losing part of what makes her human might not be such a bad thing. Love has only brought pain. It’s time for Annabeth to turn off her heart and be the demigod she was designed to be, daughter of Athena, a warrior of the mind.

Monday, September 6th, 2 p.m.

“Annabeth! Get in the pool with us!”

“Come on, or we’ll push you in!”

“I already said I don’t want to!”

“Matthew! Bobby! What have I told you?!” Helen scolds from across the backyard. “Leave your sister alone!”

The sun is sweltering hot, and it’s so loud. Boisterous laughter and Hip-Hop music flood Annabeth’s ears, making it difficult to focus. She doesn’t even want to be here. But her dad insisted she come with them to their friend's Labor Day block party cookout since she’s spent most of the week cooped up in her room. So here she is, sitting under the umbrella of an outdoor patio table with a book while her parents chat up a storm with the neighborhood and her brothers do cannonballs into the pool.

Right now, Annabeth is trying to read Hamlet, which her literature class is studying in school. It’s dense and heavy so far, and difficult to read, in part because of her dyslexia, the other part due to the use of Old English. Fortunately, there is a slightly modernized translation on the right pages of the book. Annabeth already relates to the character of Ophelia, torn between duty and her heart. 

Annabeth knows a good deal about Ophelia’s tragic ending from art, music, and think pieces, about her slow descent into madness and subsequent death by drowning (whether intentional or not) due to the murder of her father and being rejected by Hamlet. Recently, Annabeth feels like she’s slowly going insane, too. This is sure to be a fun read…

“Food’s ready! Annabeth, boys! Come and get it!” Frederick calls out.

Annabeth bookmarks her spot and meanders to the covered porch where a plastic table covered with a red-and-white gingham cloth is laid out with an array of food and drinks. Nothing looks super appetizing at the moment. To appease her dad and make the hosts happy, she fills her plate with a barbecue drumstick, a piece of cornbread, and a wedge of watermelon.

Matthew and Bobby rush toward the table and each splash Annabeth with a small handful of pool water on their way, making her nearly drop her food. “Dudes, what the hell?!” 

“I was here first!” “No, you weren’t!” 

Annabeth closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths so she doesn’t explode. It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just a little water. It’ll dry off.

Once she’s regulated herself, she resumes her walk back to the table. Out of nowhere, a series of sharp whistling, popping, and booming sounds pierce the air, and suddenly, Annabeth isn’t in San Francisco anymore. She’s on the battlefield of Camp Half-Blood.

“Fireballs! Get down! They’re coming in from the Western Hills too!”

Darting through the field trying to get to Percy, a giant’s club nearly takes Annabeth out, but she dives out of the way just in time.

The ground shakes and splits open, corpses rising from the trenches to answer Nico’s call.

The dead children. So many dead children! 

Annabeth goes head-to-head with a dracaena, coming out on top, only to be pinned down by Kampê, reptilian hair hissing in her face and bat-like wings hovering over her like an omen of death. “Get off me!”

Very real hands are on her shoulders. “Get off me!”

“Annabeth, it’s okay! You’re safe!” Dad! “Come on, breathe with me, baby!”

Annabeth is suffocating. Her trachea closes up, preventing her from taking in any air. Her lungs are burning like she just ran a mile, she’s sweaty and clammy, and her heart is beating a thousand times a minute! Is she having a heart attack?!

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. Do it with me!”

With tremendous effort, Annabeth closes her mouth and forces herself to take deep, staggering breaths through her nose, following her dad’s pattern. After several attempts, Annabeth’s heart slowly begins to settle. She can feel the oxygen returning to her blood again. Only now does she realize the situation: at some point during her fit, she collapsed to her knees, dropping her small plate of food upside down in the grass. Everybody’s staring at her. Even Matthew and Bobby look concerned.

The weight of everything Annabeth has tried to bury and ignore over the past several weeks comes crashing down, drowning her in an endless sea of grief, guilt, and regret. “He’s gone. He killed them! And it’s all my fault! I could’ve stopped it! He was asking me for help! Why didn’t I listen?!”

“Oh, sweetheart, no! Come here!” Frederick pulls Annabeth in, supporting her as she completely breaks down into gut-wrenching sobs. “It was not your fault. It’s okay, let it out. I’m here.”

Following the incident, Frederick and Helen briefly say goodbye to the hosts and take everybody home. Annabeth sits in the back of the van staring out the window, while Matthew and Bobby are in the middle and whispering to each other, sneaking glances at her. She feels like an injured animal trapped in a cage, an object to be pitied. Nearly everybody at Camp Half-Blood treated her that way when Percy was assumed dead after the Mount St. Helens eruption.

Upon returning home, Frederick takes Annabeth upstairs and tucks her into bed, then goes back downstairs so she can have a little peace and quiet. The episode, whatever it was, has drained all of Annabeth’s mental, physical, and emotional energy. All she wants to do is sleep. But no matter how much sleep she’s gotten recently, there hasn’t been a day where she’s felt fully rested. She’s been doing things on autopilot. Life has been gray and lost some of its luster. Things that once brought her joy don’t have the same spark anymore, things like watching the stars, drawing, and solving a difficult problem. Even food seems to have lost its taste. She’s not feeling like herself, and hasn’t been hiding it very well. 

Half an hour later, Frederick quietly knocks on the door before coming in, a mug in hand. “Hey, I made you chamomile tea. Can I join you?” 

Annabeth nods and pushes herself into a sitting position, pulling the pillow onto her lap. 

Frederick places the mug of tea on her nightstand and sits on the edge of her bed. “You feeling any better?”

Annabeth shrugs. “Does Helen want me to leave?”

“What?! No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“I caused a scene. I embarrassed you guys in front of your friends.” Even though she logically knows they wouldn’t kick her out, past experiences have Annabeth’s head spiraling. Attract monsters and get deemed a danger to the family. Embarrass a godly parent and have a Chimera set on you. Her dad and Helen even got rid of their dog when the twins were a few months old because it wasn’t adjusting well to the change.

“You did not embarrass us. And I meant what I said in July, Annabeth. We’re trying to do better. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.” Maybe things really are different this time.

"What did you tell the hosts?"

"About you? I said you went through something traumatic when you were living with your mom in New York, and the firecrackers must've triggered a flashback. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have forced you to come to the party.”

Gravity seems to be working double time, pulling Annabeth deeper into the mattress. “I don’t understand. I’ve fought monsters and been in battle before. And we had fireworks at camp a few weeks ago. Why did it happen now?”

“Grief isn’t linear. There’s no rhyme or reason to when and where it decides to show up. You’ve been through more than most kids your age.” 

Annabeth should’ve been able to handle it. She’s been raised to handle it, calloused by the world, forced to rely on herself, trained to be a fighter. Over time and with the right people, she’s learned to let her guard down and lean on her friends. But old habits die hard.

Percy struggles frantically against the tightly knotted rope, desperate to get free. "Don't do this! Untie me, please! Let me help!"

Bracing herself against the sirens' song, Annabeth discovers she can use it to her advantage and quickly formulates a plan worthy of Athena. "I can do this."

”Listen, Annabeth, Helen and I are worried about you. Ever since coming back, you haven’t had much appetite, you’re not sleeping well, and you’ve been more withdrawn than usual. And look, you don’t wanna talk to us about what went down at camp. I get it. But you gotta talk to somebody. Keeping all that bottled up inside, it’s not good for you.”

“Talk to someone, as in a therapist? I thought you didn’t believe in those. You said it’s weird to pay a stranger to listen to you vent about your problems.”

“I used to. I guess your old man’s coming around. You’re hurting, baby girl. I just want what’s best for you."

When Annabeth agreed to come back, all she had told her dad was that there had been a battle at camp orchestrated by the same guy who made her hold up the sky. If she had talked about it more, she probably wouldn’t have reached a breaking point. “Okay, even if I do go, I can’t be completely honest. I can’t tell them what really happened.”

“Well, we can come up with a cover story. Or there’s gotta be at least one kid from your camp all grown up who decided to become a shrink. Why don’t you call your camp director with the rainbow message thingy and see if he knows anything? Even the strongest warrior needs help sometimes."

"I think you... shielded me. I think you saved me."

What does it mean, when facing the sirens, all Percy saw was her? The knowledge does nothing to suppress Annabeth's fully-fledged crush. "If you stayed at camp, I'd be siren chow. You definitely saved me." 

"Maybe we both had to be here to get past them. Like the one version of fate that doesn't suck." When not even her own mother intervened, Percy was the one to stick by Annabeth's side and risked death to do it. She's quickly realizing they work better together rather than alone, not despite their differences but because of them.

Annabeth hates the idea that she needs therapy; it makes her feel weak. But something has to change. She can’t keep living like this. “Alright. I’ll contact Chiron tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl.” Frederick affectionately lifts Annabeth’s chin and pulls her in for a hug. “You know I gotchu, right?”

The hug is so warm and comforting, Annabeth feels like she can finally let go and breathe again. It seems learning to trust her dad wasn't a bad idea after all. “I know.” 

Friday, September 10th, 5:15 p.m.

The few days following Annabeth’s breakdown, everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around her, making sure to not say anything upsetting or that might remind her of the cookout. She doesn’t want to be treated delicately. But to be honest, she can’t really blame them. Even though Annabeth has a long way to go in terms of healing, everything seems a little less heavy now that she’s finally let herself feel all of it.

Friday after school, while her dad cooks up dinner, Annabeth heads upstairs and opens her laptop. She was able to connect with Chiron on Tuesday, and apparently, there are two demigods he knows of, children of Apollo, in New York who are licensed therapists. She wants to compare and contrast both of their profiles before choosing. One is a forty-something–year-old man with shaggy blond hair. Nothing about him stands out in particular. He’s been in the industry for ten years, owns his own practice, writes poetry, and likes to sing and play guitar in his spare time. The second one is a Black woman in her early thirties, a self-proclaimed overachiever, and is the oldest child out of three, an eldest daughter. Despite only being in the industry for two years, she may be able to relate to more of Annabeth’s struggles.

Annabeth types up a short email, briefly explaining her situation, that she was referred by Chiron, and requests a video appointment to see if it’s a good fit. Once it’s sent, she shuts the laptop and stares into space for a few seconds, drained from decision fatigue. Her eyes automatically drift to an envelope on her desk: a letter that showed up two days ago, addressed to her, scribbled in Percy’s chicken-scratch handwriting. She should open it; letting him back in would be good for her. But even if Annabeth might be ready to hear him out, is it possible to reply without mentioning her current situation? She can’t lie to him. She also doesn’t want to speak about it until she’s fixed… whatever's wrong with her.

A gentle knock on the door disrupts the quiet. “Come in.”

Frederick peeks his head inside, pressing the mouth of the home phone to his chest. “Hey, sweetie, you’ve got a phone call.

Why is Percy so persistent? “I already told you, I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“It’s not Percy, it’s his mom. She said it’s important.”

Annabeth’s stomach drops. What if something bad happened to Percy and her stubbornness and pride got in the way of making amends? She takes the phone and puts it to her ear as her dad leaves, closing the door behind him. “Hello? Sally?”

“Annabeth! Hi, sweetheart, yeah, it’s Sally! How are you doing, hon?”

“I– I’m good.” That’s a bold-faced lie. At least Sally can’t read her guilty expression and call her out on it. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No! No, everything’s fine over here. I'm calling because I wanted to tell you… Paul and I are engaged!”

Oh! Not exactly what Annabeth was expecting, but she’ll take the good news over anything else. “Oh my gods, Sally! Congratulations! When did it happen?”

“Last Saturday. We took a getaway for the holiday weekend, up in Ithaca. Paul actually went to college at Cornell. He showed me around campus, we took a tour of the library, then we found a private gazebo in the Botanic Gardens. He got down on one knee and popped the question.”

“That sounds beautiful! Does he… know about Percy? About him being a demigod?”

Sally lets out half a chuckle. “He does now. I probably should’ve told him earlier. I ended up having to tell him right after he proposed. I wanted him to really understand what he’s getting himself into.”

“And he believed you?”

“I think so? It didn’t scare him off, at least, and he took it better than I expected. He actually said it explains everything he couldn’t quite figure out about Percy. I suggested we take the rest of the weekend to mull it over. Of course, he only took a few hours to process everything. He said at dinner later that he loves me and Percy and whatever comes with it, and told me the offer still stands. So it’s official!”

“That’s so sweet! I’m really happy for you guys! Do you have an idea of when the wedding will be?”

“We’re thinking November, Thanksgiving weekend, to be exact. It’ll be easiest for Paul’s teaching schedule, and neither of us wants to make a big fuss about it. I don’t have any other family, and most of Paul’s is over in England. It’s just gonna be a small affair, close friends and a few of his nearby relatives. Which is kind of why I called. Annabeth, I’d like you to attend the wedding.”

“What?! Me? Why me?”

“Other than Grover, you’re Percy’s best friend. After his first summer at camp, he seemed different in a good way. You helped him feel less alone. And you’ve saved him several times. You helped save me, too. You’re a really special person, Annabeth. And I want to celebrate our day with the people that matter to me.”

Annabeth has only met Sally several times. She never imagined she’d be important enough to be invited to her wedding, and a small, intimate one at that. If she does go, it means she’ll have to see Percy. Things are bound to be a little awkward. “I’d be honored. I’m just not sure I can afford to fly out there over the holiday weekend.” Another lie. While they’re not millionaires, Frederick’s tenured position as a professor and Helen’s job as a lawyer bring in enough money to have a cushy lifestyle. They wouldn’t bat an eye at the thought of dolling out cash for Annabeth to fly cross-country on one of the weekends when prices are highest. “And I’d have to book a hotel room, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, hon. If money’s an issue, Paul and I can help you out a bit. And you could stay here, if you’d like.”

“No! No, it's okay. You don’t have to do that. I’ll make it work. But…” Annabeth swallows hard and takes a deep breath. There’s no way she can stay at the Jackson residence. That would be far too weird. “I’d still get a hotel room. If you have any recommendations, can you email them to me?” 

“Sure thing, hon.” The air feels heavy, like everything’s about to shift. “Listen, Annabeth, I know you and Percy got into a fight at the end of camp last month.”

“You do?” Of course she does. Sally Jackson sees things better than most. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, actually. He won’t talk to me about it. He’s not quite acting like himself. Not angry, per se, more like… irritable and quieter than usual. And I know he’s been trying to call you and even sent you a letter.” Sally is quiet for a moment as if she’s second-guessing how much to reveal. “He loves you.”

Annabeth closes her eyes and tries to force down the lump in her throat. Please don’t cry! She knew he loved… loves her. It doesn’t even matter anymore.

“I’m not saying in what way,” Sally continues. “Maybe he’s not even sure himself. But I know my son. And what you two have, what you’ve built, means more than one argument.”

“Sally, I–” Annabeth’s not even sure what to say. She can’t tell her the reason for the argument, because it would open up a whole Pandora’s Box of things Percy doesn’t want his mom to know about the Great Prophecy.

“I’m not trying to guilt trip you or manipulate you into making up. I just wanted to let you know how important you are to Percy. And if you can put whatever happened aside for one day, I’d really love to see you in November.”

While it aches to think about Percy and what they could’ve been, she misses him as a friend too. At this point, she’d rather have half of him than nothing at all. “Yeah. Yes, I can do that. Let me know when you have the date finalized and I’ll book my flight.”

“Of course. We’re beginning the planning process this weekend. I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

“Thanks. Congrats, again, on the engagement, Sally.”

“Thank you. Take care, sweetie.”

Annabeth hangs up the phone, discards it on the desk, and slumps back in her chair. Everything has been so overwhelming and overstimulating lately. While she’s ecstatic for Sally and Paul, the high of the news feels like whiplash compared to the lows she’s been experiencing. And of course, it means swallowing her pride and finally accepting the olive branch.

Annabeth grabs Percy’s letter and stares at it for a while. Over the years, she and Percy have exchanged so many letters back and forth, she’s lost count, each one precious to her. This letter might put all the rest to shame. Bracing herself, Annabeth finally opens it and starts to read.

“Hey Annabeth. Percy here. Obviously.

I tried calling you a few times, but your dad or stepmom kept saying you weren’t at home. I’d Iris Message you if I had any drachmas, but you probably don’t want to talk to me, which I don't blame you for. What I did at the end of camp was awful. I shouldn’t have pushed you to reveal the last line of your prophecy. Then when you told me you loved me, I couldn’t show up in the way you needed me to. After learning about my fate in the Great Prophecy, I didn’t want to be one more person to leave you when I die next year. You’ve been hurt and left behind by so many people already. I was trying to protect you, but by doing that, I ended up hurting you too, and I’m sorry. I never meant for things to get so complicated.

I really miss you. I’ve been trying to act like everything’s fine for my mom’s sake, but I can’t fake it anymore. Annabeth, you mean everything to me. And I don’t want to spend the last year I have left without talking to you. I hope you can forgive me soon, and we can go back to being friends. Until then, I wish you the best.

Signed affectionately, your Seaweed Brain.”

Eyes brimming with tears, Annabeth reads the letter over and over again, meticulously absorbing every word. There were hardly any spelling mistakes; Percy must’ve put a lot of care and effort into it. She feels his love for her radiating off the page, even if he never said it outright. As hurt as Annabeth is, Percy’s right. Even if she can’t have him in the way she truly wants, she can't bear to waste whatever time they have left being at odds with each other.

Annabeth wipes her eyes, grabs paper and a pencil, and begins to write.