Chapter Text
If there was one person Malcolm could blame for all this, it was Percy.
Percy had this insane idea. An extremely risky plan that Athena would never approve of. But by now, after a decade of being best friends with Annabeth, including seven years of dating her, Percy, Malcolm realized, had come to understand how children of Athena operated. He knew what got them to tick.…
✶ ✶ ✶ ✶
It had been a sunny Saturday July morning at Camp Half-Blood. The calming waves of Long Island Sound would have driven anyone to a siesta were it not for the commotion brought about by the camp’s residents, who were currently embroiled in a game of capture the flag.
Leading one side of the game were the children of Hermes, who had quickly recruited Cabin Three. Opposing them were the children of Ares, who had fought tooth and nail to enlist Cabin Six.
Before the game had even started, the battle had begun. Cheating had been rampant, hexes had been thrown about, and an ancient rivalry had been exploited. Already inflamed campers only escalated their jeers and taunts. Whether one could blame the juicy rivalry or simply ingroup-outgroup bias (or both), an onlooker might’ve thought there were two battles to be waged.
Add the extra rivalry to the inclusion of the Romans, the two added flags in play, and a hefty dose of pride at stake, and you get two hundred and thirteen geared up demigods, satyrs, and nymphs anticipating a war that could get real ugly real fast.
At the sound of the horns, clouds arrived on the scene, turning the sky an ugly gray. With a thunderclap, rain started to pour. As Clarisse coordinated defense south of Zephyros Creek, Annabeth, Frank, and Malcolm headed north. Malcolm—invisible under Annabeth’s Yankees cap—ran towards the edge of the woods, taking down a daughter of Hecate and two children of Hermes in his wake.
Sure enough, Hermes had set down a flag near Long Island Sound. Smart perhaps, but predictable. Now if he could set up traps before anyone noticed his footprints—
A sudden force knocked him to an empty clearing. The Yankees cap flew five meters away.
“What’s up, Malcolm?” a familiar voice called behind him.
Malcolm rose into a crouch and stood to face Percy Jackson. Percy struck first. Malcolm parried his assault—but Percy blocked his counter. They got into the rhythm of a violent dance, whirling and side-stepping, slashing and whacking. Malcolm let instinct take over, catching Riptide’s arc with his xíphos and dishing some blows of his own.
The rain poured on the men and swirled around them, collecting into ropes that encircled the son of Athena. Malcolm dodged the force of water and rolled beneath it.
He rose yet again. His xíphos and wits were enough to handle Riptide, but he still couldn’t dodge all the incoming jets. And what did the water care if it was slashed by a blade?
Percy formed an opaque barrier of rain around them, blocking any chance of Malcolm’s escape.
“Don’t take this personally, okay?” Percy said. He sent ropes of water from all directions towards Malcolm. They circled Malcolm’s body and slid the xíphos out of his hand. “And don’t fight back,” Percy told him.
The water threw Malcolm towards the breaking waves in the beach.
Surprisingly, Malcolm landed softly. But before he could even think, he was pulled by the waves and dragged nearly a hundred meters away from the shore.
Shit.
Disarmed from his xíphos, ensnared by the water, and cold as hell with nowhere to turn and no one to save him, Malcolm was done for—and curious to know just how much Percy held back on all other occasions. He’d never seen Percy fight so dirty. Resigned by the thought that there sometimes was no way to outmatch sheer force, Malcolm tried regardless.
He got his wits about him and took Percy’s advice: don’t fight back. Survival 101 dictates: don’t swim against the current. The only way out was to first swim parallel to the beach.
It wasn’t easy with his cuirass weighing him down, but he couldn’t not try. The rip was about twenty meters wide, narrow enough to escape. Maybe afterwards, he could find his way to the shore. That is, if—a big IF—Percy forgot about him. That didn’t seem likely. Malcolm could see his tall figure approaching step by step on the beach.
Taking a deep breath, Malcolm evaluated his options. He still had his trusty grappling hook. Maybe he could use it to pull himself further away from the current.
As he reached for the device, the thought occurred to him: What if he negligently killed a fish? Or, gods forbid, an endangered turtle? And over what? A meaningless game?
And if it didn’t catch an animal, what was it going latch onto? A wave? What a joke.
And then what? Was he really going to try to outswim a son of Poseidon?
Percy’s distant figure disappeared into the water. In seconds, he rose just a meter away from Malcolm and sat himself cross-legged on the surface, floating like a bored punk Jesus, with Annabeth’s cap in hand.
Malcolm stopped swimming. There was no point anymore.
“You’re in deep water,” said Percy before his lips formed into a triumphant grin. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
As annoyed as Malcolm was at the situation and as disappointed as he was in himself to get kicked out this early, he was impressed. Effective strategy, topped off with a solid pun. Percy had every right to be cocky. But Malcolm held back the compliment. Maybe later.
“You just wanted to take down Annabeth’s right hand, huh?” he accused, meeting Percy’s good-humored, sea-green eyes.
The wind breezed through Percy’s jet black hair as he observed Malcolm. “That’s usually me,” Percy said.
True. But Malcolm could still call first.
“So…” Malcolm said. “Riptide and a riptide? Fancy.”
“It’s actually a rip current,” Percy said. “People mix them up. And undertows, too. Ugh. Trust me, they’re not the same. Natural rip currents are caused by the shape of the shoreline and can drag you into the water up to eight feet a second. Riptides happen in places where flow is constricted and they’re way more predictable, but they’re usually much stronger and they pull you much farther away from the shore.”
Malcolm was barely paying attention. He tried to think of something. Anything. “What a nerd.”
“Coming from a child of Athena?” said Percy. “Thanks.”
“So what are undertows then?”
“Like you can’t Google it later.”
“Why not go with a riptide?” Malcolm asked. “Would’ve made for better theatrics.”
“The theatrics weren’t worth it,” said Percy. “What did you want me to do? Hold back all the flow into the beach? I wasn’t gonna risk drowning you. I’m also not going to risk talking to you until you come up with a plan to escape. I’ve seen Annabeth fight and I’ve rewatched too many Kim Possible episodes with my sister to make that mistake.”
Ya got me.
“I’ve got a challenge for you,” Percy said. “And if you’re anything like Annabeth, you’ll appreciate an interesting challenge.”
Just like that, Percy’s words held him in a vise. Malcolm wouldn’t be able to swim away freely, even if Percy allowed him to.
Percy offered him a deal: “I won’t take you to the jail. You’ll remain in the game if you do me a favor. At no cost to you.”
“No cost,” Malcolm repeated.
“I figured I could trust you.” Percy held out his hand.
A challenge that came at no cost? Percy had practically ensnared him. (And how stupid would he be not to take advantage of the situation? Even KP never got an offer that generous.)
“You can,” Malcolm said, clasping Percy’s hand.
Malcolm was immediately rewarded with dry warmth. An air bubble encased him, shielding him from the water as Percy took them under the surface.
Percy took out a folded up paper from his back pocket. “Give this to Annabeth. Secretly.”
“That’s it?” Malcolm said, more than a little offended.
“That’s part one. Annabeth’ll figure it out.”
Malcolm eyed it warily. “It’s not inappropriate, is it?”
Percy looked affronted. “Bro.”
Malcolm shrugged.
“You can open it,” Percy said. “It’s harmless.”
Malcolm took the paper and unfolded it to reveal a picture of an ancient citadel he recognized. “The Acropolis. Cool. You know, passing notes to Annabeth doesn’t constitute a challenge.”
There wasn’t even any writing—not on the front, not on the back. No marks against the light either. It was just a postcard.
So, why the Acropolis? Why a postcard? Malcolm’s mind whirred with possible answers: Acropolis. Athens. City. Patron. Poseidon. Athena. Contest. Saltwater spring. Olive tree. Rivalry.
“Like I said, she’ll figure it out,” Percy said.
Annabeth. Percy. Argo II. Athens. Acropolis. A promise.
“No, let me guess,” said Malcolm. “You want Cabin Six to team up with you.”
But why a postcard? Why not something as simple as verbal words?
Percy’s lips quirked up. He didn’t even look the least bit guilty.
Oh. To show this was his plan A. Malcolm was intrigued. So, what’s the catch?
No. This was Percy. There was never a catch. So, what was his motive?
“Why?” asked Malcolm simply. “You just don’t wanna fight Annabeth and want us to get the glory of winning together with you, or…?”
“Yeah, me. Not Hermes,” Percy said. “Or Ares.”
A shot of adrenaline flowed into Malcolm’s veins. “You mean…”
Percy grinned. “Yeah.”
Malcolm couldn’t help but entertain himself with the thought. A short laugh escaped involuntarily before he sobered. “There are only eight of us,” he pointed out.
“And by now only—what, a hundred and fifty of them left max? Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about whether Athena could steamroll the whole camp.”
Yes. Which Athena camper hadn’t wondered about the extent of Cabin Six’s capabilities? It seemed Percy was perceptive enough to figure out that secret (unless, of course, Annabeth had told him about it).
It wasn’t like the hundred fifty or so would be expecting it anyway, right? And with their combined skill and power… Dear gods.
“How in the hell d’you come up with this?” said Malcolm.
“Honestly? People kept making Romeo and Juliet references ’cause of the whole parental rivalry thing, but it seemed stupid to me, since Romeo and Juliet killed themselves,” Percy said. “As Paul likes to remind his students,” he added in a mutter. “So, I thought it’d be better to do a reverse Romeo and Juliet.”
“A what?”
Percy shrugged in his typical easy-breezy nonchalance. “Instead of killing themselves, they kill everyone else.”
And that was something that Malcolm had taken a few years to realize about him. Everyone thought Percy was selfless. They saw him as the ever loyal lover and friend who’d always put his life on the line to save others. But they were wrong. Percy was loyal, yes, but he was also extremely selfish.
How many times had the guy demonstrated that even the wellbeing of the world wouldn’t be enough of a reward for him to counter the loss of his girlfriend? To what extreme lengths had he willingly gone not to cope with that much disutility?
Yeah, no one needed compensating variation or Hicksian demand functions to come to that conclusion.
“See, this is exactly why Athena doesn’t trust you,” Malcolm reminded him.
Percy smiled his trademark troublemaker smile before facing Malcolm with a more serious look. “But it’s also why she does,” he said.
Huh.
“And both her judgments are in your favor,” Percy pointed out. “So, which side do you want to play on?”
Insane as it was, Percy’s plan made sense. Athena would have never approved, no, but she would have probably been impressed. Percy was both crazier and wiser than he was given credit for.
But Percy hadn’t seemed to consider one thing.
“And in the end?” Malcolm asked. “There’s seven of us and only one of you. What makes you think we won’t conspire to take you down?”
“Yeah, my plan only went that far,” Percy said. “If you want to, go ahead. But I’d prefer it if we call truce and build more chariots or whatever than continue this stupid rivalry.” His gaze pierced through Malcolm. “I’m not gonna fight any of you,” he said, speaking with the certainty Malcolm would only trust from his family. It was a promise. The truth and nothing but. “I’ve had enough, even before that Hecate kid tried to brainwash me with that hate smoke potion, whatever that was. And even if you do knock me out, 99% of the time, we’d still be a team.”
Malcolm mouth quirked on a side as he nodded up at Percy. “How many times did you rehearse that?”
Percy cracked a grin, cocking his head in admission. “I guess not as much as I should have.”
But Percy had convinced him enough. Him and the rest of the cabin: Annabeth (no questions asked), Claire (the competitive athlete), Conrad (Claire’s devious twin), Sophie (wary but ultimately undeterred by the calculated risk), Zeke (thankful for finally having the opportunity to try this scheme), and Alicia (the six-year-old duckling who’d imprinted on her eldest siblings).
Through stealthy exchanges of intel and sly manipulations of their unknowing “teammates”, the group of eight executed their plan and did their own part to drive down the active soldier count.
While the Athenians carefully avoided Percy on the battlefield and dragged out Ares’s offense, Percy let Hermes sacrifice eleven to defeat Nico and Hazel alone (which, of course, only meant thirteen fewer campers to deal with) and convinced Hermes to set up a second HQ on a small ship in Long Island Sound.
The battle continued well into the night until the two official sides reached a stalemate and called truce until dawn. The truce wasn’t followed, of course (there was neither enough trust nor enough incentive not to cheat in the case of their prisoner’s dilemma), so each side took turns keeping watch, letting their littlest ones sleep.
By now, Eos had risen, opening the gates for Apollo to soon pass with his sun chariot.
Under Annabeth’s Yankees cap, Malcolm made his way from the Ares base to Cabin Three. He snuck in through the open window and heard snickering coming from inside.
Annabeth was peering at the contents on a table as she braided her blonde hair. Her boyfriend, meanwhile, was searching for a shirt, the tattoos he’d gotten in recent years in full display: Aνναβεθ in elegant calligraphy, a drawn-by-Estelle star (for none other than his sister Estelle), a hammerhead shark (he said it was cool), and an anchor (because he was into nautical references, but Malcolm had suspicions it meant some sort of sappy shit relating to Annabeth).
Malcolm took off the cap. “Really, guys?”
“We were actually looking at maps, though,” a now-fully-clothed Percy told him.
“Sure.”
Looking at maps. That had been Percy’s dumb coverup nine years ago. It had become their thing. Red-faced as Malcolm had been when he’d walked in on fourteen-year-old Percy and Annabeth hugging each other, he’d made sure to whip out the phrase and satisfyingly watch Percy turn pink every time he caught the couple sneaking off to do cutesy things. Eventually, Percy had become desensitized and no longer cared who caught them, but it had been fun while it lasted.
“Malcolm, I am literally looking at a map,” said Annabeth, holding up what was indeed a map with what he guessed were markings of the Hermes plan.
“And you can blame Frank,” Percy said. “Dude wouldn’t stop following Annabeth.”
So, Frank knew not to trust her. But as long as Malcolm fed Percy the intel and Annabeth only collected, no one could blame her for the leaks.
“So, your solution was to…?”
“Make out?” Annabeth finished. “It works every time.”
Malcolm supposed he couldn’t blame them. It was the perfect excuse. And that it had been Frank of all people? *Chef’s kiss.*
Malcolm updated them on the developments: “I got Clarisse to reorganize, so the twins are heading to the ship now. For all she knows, it’ll be under Ares’s possession soon. Zeke, Soph, and Allie are still with Ares, but they’re by one of the flags over here by Zeus’s Fist.” He pointed to the west side of the woods.
“So, what are we three doing now?” Percy said, looking to the Athena siblings. “Finally capture a flag or keep kicking ‘em out little by little so no one notices?”
They scanned the map for opportunities.
“Or we go for straight the heads,” Malcolm thought aloud, turning to Annabeth. “Plan 16b?”
“What’s plan 16b?” Percy said.
“Hidden decapitation strike,” Annabeth said. “We isolate the leaders and remove command and control so the teams get disorganized.”
“And they’ll probably fracture and fight for leadership,” Malcolm added, “which makes things easier for us.”
A part of him felt guilty to use nearly the same tactic that had inadvertently helped wreak havoc on his hometown—especially since the exact point of plan 16 was to wipe out as many people as they could with so little effort. But it was effective and efficient.
“But let’s not kill their bases,” Annabeth said. “We don’t need them scattered everywhere. They’d just be more difficult to hunt down.”
Good plan. Another thing his city hadn’t been prepared for. Well, they knew that now.
“So, we go for Ares first,” Annabeth said. “If I have to report to Clarisse at the base in fifteen, we could turn Percy in—”
“Turn Percy in?”
“I didn’t mean actually turn you in, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth told him with her affectionate smile. “Actually, you do it, Malcolm.”
“So,” Malcolm said, “I bring you”—he looked at Percy—“to the base and tell Clarisse that you know who the traitor is but won’t talk. Frank could help, so he’s there, too.”
“Then I show up with Clarisse and whichever Ares/Mars honchos are there,” said Annabeth. “Three of us can take them all down, right?”
“Is there a water supply at the base?”
“Pretty sure.”
Percy smirked. “Then sure we can.”
One sneaky ploy, two busted water tanks, and three wearied demigods later, Annabeth, Percy, and Malcolm restrained an outraged Clarisse, a betrayed Frank, a dumbfounded Sherman, and a disappointed Ellis.
So long, Larry Hoover. Let the chaos begin.
Under her Yankees cap, Annabeth ran off to steal Leo’s comms gear (she was a better hacker than Malcolm) and to aid Zeke, Sophia, and Alicia. If all went according to plan, they’d bring the two Ares flags to the ship, leaving Percy and Malcolm to capture the fourth and final flag from Hermes.
But on their way to the Hermes base, a jet black, winged stallion blocked their path and frantically neighed.
Percy faced Malcolm with a wolf stare that could rival those Malcolm had seen in the Great Lakes. “They took Alicia,” Percy said.
Malcolm opened his mouth.
“Ares.”
“Gods damn psychos,” Malcolm blazed. “She’s six!”
Percy relayed Blackjack’s message: “After Sophie got the flag and headed with Guido to the ship, Ares forces split up Alicia and Zeke. Annabeth found him, but they’re stuck chasing the ones who know we’re in on something. They might lead them to Alicia.”
Blackjack, bless him, had already issued an Amber Alert to the other pegasi. Porkpie was apparently leading the search party and called on Guido to alert the other Athenians.
“So, now we get a Hermes flag,” Percy said. “They want one in exchange.”
As what? Ransom? Are they fucking serious? Malcolm held in his protest, took a moment to breathe, and prepared to get to work.
“Also, Blackjack knows where the flag is.”
For a moment, Malcolm actually relaxed. “I love your horse.”
“Tell him yourself.”
Malcolm got a nudge from a pegasus head in response.
Blackjack galloped them away. But with each passing minute, Malcolm’s chest grew heavier. They were getting farther and farther away from the creek.
“Percy?”
“Yeah, I can’t. I’m drained.”
It only got worse. Though they could still see the creek, it must’ve been forty meters behind the flag, which itself was about ninety meters away. Approximately thirty campers stood in between them and their prize.
Malcolm cursed silently. Percy looked equally distraught.
They were in over their heads at this point. Alicia was missing. Who knew if Claire and Conrad had overthrown the Hermes ship, if Sophie had managed to make her way to them with the flag, if Annabeth and Zeke had weeded out those on the Ares team who’d caught on?
Ah. And there it was: Athenian arrogance. Guilty of sipping the Kanye juice.
But it was only arrogance if they couldn’t find a solution. Maybe they still could. Then it was just confidence. Genius, even.
Realistically though…
What were the options? What were the options? Malcolm couldn’t find any winning outcomes.
“Maybe if Tyson were here, we could, but I can’t see how we can do this without backup,” he said.
Percy’s head moved up sharply. “I have a plan,” he said to him quietly.
“What do I need to do?”
“Nothing," said Percy. "We’re calling in the cavalry.”
Malcolm didn’t understand what he meant. It was literally just them. The eight of them were operating as the barest skeleton crews, the pegasi were searching for Alicia, and the hippocampi were protecting the ship. What other tricks did they have up their sleeves?
Percy gave Blackjack all their ambrosia bars and Riptide, and directed him to drop all that stuff into the creek before aiding the other pegasi or Annabeth.
Malcolm’s eyes bulged, but he reined in his gut Percy-what-the-hell? reaction. Malcolm trusted him. Percy was… creative… with his ideas. That some campers didn’t see his smarts was a dismal failure of their evaluation skills.
Soaring as low as he could, Blackjack swooped to dodge incoming arrows and sank their stuff into the water.
“They’re over here!” distant voices hollered. The closest five Hermes soldiers were heading their way.
“Ten seconds, Percy,” Malcolm warned. “Do you have Riptide yet?”
“Let’s stall.”
Guess that’s a no. “Stalling’s not really our decision to make.”
But what he could do was get Percy a sword or two. Malcolm aimed his grappling hook at a camper with a medium-length xíphos that was hopefully a close enough resemblance to Riptide. Quickly disarming the fallen guy, Malcolm threw Percy the sword.
He and Percy held them back, but they were about to be ambushed by over a dozen more opponents. Left and right, the Apollo campers were drawing their bows towards them.
Then, amidst the blur and the noise of Malcolm and Percy’s sparring matches, much too much water rose from the creek and formed into the figures of horses that rushed at the Hermes squad. The equine flood swallowed arrows and felled the soldiers without even a clang of a sword.
Wow, dude. Who knew protein bars could—?
From behind the rush of water appeared a slender raven-haired woman, clad with a loose floral dress. It was a strange sight in the middle of a battlefield, especially considering her generously dipped neckline—hardly an appropriate thought given the current circumstances, but really, only a blind person would’ve missed it. She looked curiously at the flag in her hand brought to her by one of the water-horses.
The troops had diminished to a mere seven.
“Hand over the flag,” a chiseled camper Malcolm knew as Scott demanded.
“No,” said the woman.
“Well, I don’t take no for an answer.” Scott raised his sword and charged.
“Learn to,” she seethed. Another water-horse struck a blow to his head, promptly knocking him out cold before her feet. She rolled her eyes, muttering none too softly, “Rapey asswipe.”
The corners of Malcolm’s lips ticked up. Just who are you?
Together, Malcolm, Percy, and the woman crushed their remaining opponents and cooped them up with a grappling hook and ropes of water.
Percy turned towards their savior. “Thanks, Princess.”
“Anything for my little brother,” she said.
“Younger brother,” said Percy before he attended to their new prisoners.
Malcolm knew a fair bit of Percy’s family tree. The woman was obviously a daughter of Poseidon, and if she really were a princess, her mother must’ve been Amphitrite. She couldn’t have been Kymopoleia, who he knew had been disowned by her royal parents. That left a single option.
“You’re Rhode?” he asked, finally fixing his eyes on the woman. “Or Lady Rhode?” he corrected.
Maybe it was the way she carried herself, maybe it was her dress, maybe both, but this lady did look regal. And dammit, she was gorgeous. (Hey, he might not have dated often, but he had a functioning pair of eyes.) Her hair looked almost blue in the sunlight, all shiny and thick, and as the wind swept locks of her tresses over her shoulder, Malcolm caught a hint of black ink on her tanned skin.
Having to shift his gaze up to meet hers, Malcolm averted his eyes at breakneck speed, feeling like the world’s biggest dirtbag. (It was her shoulder he was looking at, okay? Her shoulder.) When he looked back, her eyes were still on him, holding his gaze challengingly.
“That’s Your Highness to you,” she said haughtily.
Aaaand she just had to ruin it.
Malcolm wanted to roll his eyes. He opted instead to say, “Sorry, Your Highness.” And just maybe he couldn’t completely hide his annoyance. Still, he gave her a small bow. He knew better than to provoke the gods, especially those who were ridiculously touchy about their titles.
“People usually kneel before me,” she responded, carrying the smuggest of expressions.
Seriously? That’s how you’re gonna be?
Rhode’s eyes flashed, and Malcolm figured it’d be better to acquiesce than become the victim of a goddess’s ire. As he dropped a knee, he heard Percy confusingly say, “Dude, what are you doing?”
The princess’s stony expression cracked and morphed into one of mirth as she snickered. “I wasn’t really serious. That actually worked?”
Oh that little… Malcolm huffed as he stood. “Okay, if Ms. Hoity-Toity’s had enough fun, we have work to do.”
Rhode’s eyebrows popped up an inch, but she changed her entire demeanor when Percy introduced him as “Malcolm Pace, Annabeth’s older brother” and recapped her on the game plan.
The children of Poseidon floated their captured opponents to a makeshift jail by the creek, and Malcolm attempted to busy himself with keeping on the lookout for the pegasi who’d bring them to his sister. It was pointless, of course, so he simply third-wheeled, observing the siblings.
Although Percy had grown less boyish and more handsome over the past several years (hello, jawline), Rhode still seemed relatively more mature-looking. The only similar features they shared were black hair, green eyes, and a general sense of good looks that might suggest they were related.
But her hair was bluer, her face rounder, her tan deeper, her eyes more blue? Or more green? Were they brighter? Were they darker? Malcolm couldn’t tell. They somehow… changed. But though the siblings’ looks wouldn’t exactly prove their relation, their interactions certainly did.
“Geez,” Percy said. “You sounded like Triton back there.”
“You take that back, Percy,” Rhode said.
Percy seemed to be holding back a grin. “Hey,” he said with his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t say it.”
“Well, that was the intention,” she laughed. And in milliseconds, she glared. “I’m offended, by the way, that you think I would need an offering to help you.”
“It was just to get your attention.”
“Well, I don’t want it.” She tossed him the ambrosia bars that Blackjack had dropped in the creek.
“What if I replace it with muffins?” Percy offered.
“That I will accept.”
“Yeah, we both know you’re trash at baking.”
Rhode responded with a light shove and a chuckle.
Malcolm had known Percy and his godly family were friendly, but he wouldn’t have guessed that he and his immortal half-sister were close enough to tease each other like best friends. His other one, after all, had tried to kill him.
“You know, I’ve been waiting for a call from you,” Rhode said. “When you asked for my help, I first thought it had to do with you finally planning to pop the question. Then I noticed your sword.”
Whoa. “You’re going to propose to Annabeth?” Malcolm asked.
Percy didn’t bother to face him. “I’m not answering that.”
“Which probably means you are going to,” Malcolm reasoned. “I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a massive bet going on at camp.”
From what he’d heard, the odds were around 50-50 on who would propose and a majority of bettors gambled on it happening within the next year.
But if Malcolm were to do some simple calculations, perhaps employ the binomial and geometric distributions… say, a sample size of thirty recent interactions, with a probability of—what was it?—0.65 that Annabeth took the lead…
But binomial probability and geometric probability were only relevant when considering independent events. That assumption didn’t exactly hold in this case. Malcolm threw away the thought experiment.
As though Percy could see him attempting calculations, he shot Malcolm a look. “I’m not going to help you win any bets.”
“Relax,” said Malcolm. “I don’t make bets on your relationship.”
Besides, it would be unethical and unwise to bet with the insider information Malcolm had access to. According to Annabeth, the campers had it all wrong.
They continued walking in silence, but Percy’s curiosity seemed to outweigh his desire for privacy. “If you had to?” he asked.
If he had to? Malcolm had always thought Percy and Annabeth would end up together, married with kids and all, complete with pets (Mrs. O’Leary already counted, right?) and a white picket fence (or whatever Annabeth thought was more chic in landscape architecture these days). It seemed like something they were bound to do, given that they were them. But a conversation with Annabeth a few months back made Malcolm doubt whether they’d tick every single one of those boxes.
What binomial and geometric distributions also didn’t account for was the fact that this was a much, much bigger event. A proposal wouldn’t be equivalent to everyday interactions. In the first place, one of them would have to be willing to take the initiative.
‘It’s not something we’re going to do,’ Annabeth had told him. Malcolm hadn’t been sure Percy at least wasn’t going to ask—to which an irritated Annabeth had insisted, ‘Of course, I’m sure.’
Malcolm totally didn’t get it. Were they waiting on each other? Was this too big a step for Percy at this time? Was he just trying to be some modern feminist and give Annabeth the reins? Was Annabeth hoping instead that he would take the lead? Malcolm didn’t know. This was too much drama for him. If even their love life was that complicated, he couldn’t imagine what other people were like.
So, if he were being honest, he didn’t know if—
Malcolm paused to choose his words carefully. “Percy, have you talked to Annabeth about this?”
“Of course.”
Oh. “And?”
“And we’re on the same page?” Percy said, like there was only a single, obvious answer.
“Are you sure?”
Percy shot him an offended look. “Bro, what are you implying?”
“Look,” said Malcolm. “Annabeth and I talked about it just a while back. She said it wasn’t something you two were gonna do.”
At that, Percy laughed.
“I’m serious,” said Malcolm.
“I know.”
“Well, is that true, Percy?” Rhode asked. “You’re not going to propose?”
“Drop it,” Percy said.
Rhode didn’t drop it. “You’ve told me you wanted to marry her someday,” she said. “And you’re practically married already. I’ve been told you live together in the Poseidon cabin and you literally have her name inked near your heart. You can’t get any more committed than that, so why don’t you just ask?”
“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” he said.
“You think Annabeth doesn’t want you to?” Malcolm said.
So, maybe his first suspicions were wrong. But had that just been Annabeth’s tactic to stop the questioning?
Percy paused for a moment. “I was going to once,” he said. “But she didn’t let me.”
A wave of shock came over Malcolm. But was it actually that surprising? This was Annabeth.
Rhode touched Percy’s arm. “Oh, Percy. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be,” Percy said. “Really. We’re good.”
That seemed true. Still… Malcolm wondered. He wasn’t one to pry, but maybe if he could help his sister, who seemed visibly displeased by the current state of affairs… maybe it was worth getting involved.
“Did she tell you why? If you don’t mind me asking.”
What had been the problem? Timing? Hera? A general distaste for marriage on Annabeth’s part? Something else?
“It’s just… you know how stubborn she can be,” Percy said, but he seemed content. “It’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about, okay? We’re on the same page, we’re good, and that’s all you need to know. Now, can we please focus on our plan? We’re in the middle of a child hostage situation right now, and if my ears are working, the pegasi are about to arrive.”
Malcolm stashed the matter as a topic to be revisited at some point.
Soon enough, Blackjack, Guido, and Porkpie flew the trio to a clearing south of the creek and took off yet again to help Malcolm’s siblings.
Hermes flag in hand, the plan here wasn’t to infiltrate the new base. A trade was a trade, as ridiculous and unfair as it was. Alicia was obviously worth way more than a flag. That the Ares team gave them such a shit offer on their part was mind-boggling.
“We’re not here to fight,” Malcolm reminded Percy and Rhode. “We’re getting Alicia out. But this could be a trap, so let’s just be ca—”
Rhode strolled over to a pair of soldiers—Laurel, a daughter of Nike, and Mark, a son of Ares—and cheerfully greeted their astonished faces. “Hi! Excuse me, I’m new here,” she said. “Can you tell me where I can find an abducted child?”
Laurel took a moment to recover from her shock, ultimately giving not a single hoot as to who Rhode was. “The flag,” she demanded.
Percy rolled his eyes. “Have your dumb flag,” he said, throwing it to them. “Give us Alicia.”
“Put down your weapons first,” said Mark.
“When you lead us to Alicia,” Malcolm said. “We’ve already given you the flag.”
“We won’t hurt either of you,” Percy said.
Laurel nodded at Mark. And the two of them took off running.
A jet of water burst out of a petrified seashell in Rhode’s hand, and she willed the water to slip their opponents’ weapons from their grips—but Laurel and Mark escaped nonetheless. Malcolm and Percy came to Rhode’s aid as more soldiers attacked. Springs of saltwater shot out of the ground to restrain or shoo away the approaching soldiers.
“What was that?” Malcolm rounded on the goddess.
“They’re were being dishonest,” she said.
“You jeopardized the mission. I’m trying to get my sister out of here.”
“As am I,” she retorted. “But you’re doing it so slowly, so I’m helping.”
“In the short term, sure. Now, they'll just end up scattered everywhere and it's going to be infinitely more difficult to track them all down later,” he hissed to her.
Cabrini-Green all over again.
“Malcolm, over there!” Percy exclaimed.
For now, Malcolm set aside his irritation as he caught sight of a blonde girl with the messiest ponytail he had ever seen. Alicia put on a brave face but was clearly a bit shaken. Like she needed more to deal with than losing her dad to a drunk driver's fuck-up. Did they have no conscience, isolating a child from her siblings?
Malcolm rushed towards her. “Hey, Allie. Are you okay?” He crouched to her level, scanning for cuts and bruises.
Alicia nodded. She didn't seem physically hurt, but her gray eyes were watery. She barely looked at him. “I'm sorry I got caught.”
Malcolm tried for a gentle voice. “Hey. No. Don't worry about that. You did great, Alicia. They just didn't play fair. Stay close to Percy or me, okay?”
“Who is that?” she asked warily.
Malcolm followed Alicia’s struck gaze and saw the Atlantian princess at the end of it, decking yet another of their opponents. “That would be Rhode. Don’t worry. She’s on our team. Now, we’re getting out of here and we’ll win this thing. Ready?” He offered Alicia a smile and a fist bump, which his sister hesitantly returned. “Come on.” Malcolm gave her the extra knife strapped to his leg.
Together, he and Alicia and Percy and Rhode pummelled the remaining players until not a single remaining soul there stood.
They made their way to the beach and just about whooped upon seeing the small ship resting on Long Island Sound, proudly hoisting three flags. Rhode stayed by the beach to recruit sea friends as spies and allies, and in the tranquil underwater air bubble Percy made for the Athenians, Malcolm could finally redo his sister’s hair.
With their Amber Alert cancelled, three flags captured, and dozens of enemies defeated, it seemed the tides were turning in their favor.