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Percy 🩵
Percy Jackson was not one to complain. He liked to think of himself as a…good guy. He was! Relatively smart and talented at sparing. The rich prince of a small fishing kingdom.
Percy did not feel like a good guy right about now. He felt like a tired, half dead guy.
Man.
He was too tired for this.
“Do we really have to do this?” He asked his father.
“Sir Anthony Chase is a perfectly respectable knight, he will do nicely to prevent this from happening again. I expect you to be polite,” Poseidon said, which Percy felt right in his injured shoulder blade. Stupid assassin couldn’t even be bothered to get it right and save him the trouble.
“He will be here soon, so be. Nice.”
“Whatever, Dad.”
“Don’t be rude. I know you’re in a bad mood—“
“I got shot.”
“-But that’s no excuse. Be the prince you are.”
“Okay…love you dad.”
“Love you too, my son.”
His dad departed and Percy was left to wait for this new bodyguard. It felt like hours later that he heard a knock.
Sir Anthony didn’t even wait for the door to open. After those few short raps, the door opened and revealed a boy about his own age, with close cropped blonde hair, fine features, and dusty riding gear. Eyes like storm clouds glinted at him without any hesitation. He didn’t even bow. “Prince Perseus.”
For a moment Percy was a little paralyzed, tracing the man’s face with his eyes like an artists traces his muses face on a canvas. “Are you—“ he swallowed and tried again, embarrassed by the sudden pitchiness of his voice, “Are you to be my guard?”
“If you’ll have me,” The boy replied, taking the seat opposite him and pushing a glass of water towards him. “I believe that I was told you had need of one.”
Percy laughed wryly. “Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “Please just call me Percy. If you are to accompany me everywhere, we should be friends.”
The boy smiled, not directly responding to his request. But there was a hint of mischievous lightning in the stormy eyes. “So the rumors are true. You were attacked. Your father didn’t seem to want anyone to know about that. But if he wanted it to be a secret, why have your arm so clearly bandaged?”
He smiled, genuinely, enchanted by the soft spoken man with a confident air about him. “Keen eye, but I’m not allowed to make many public appearances at the moment. So it’s not a problem.”
“I would say it is a problem. Any other possible assassins are going to think that it won’t take much more to kill you. Think about how it looks:” Anthony said, playing with the water glasses like pawns in chess. “Injured nearly a week ago and still at home licking your wounds. If your father is concerned with appearances, keeping you hidden isn’t the answer.”
Squinting his eyes, Percy considered the man. He sat down and really looked at him. “You are quite strange. Well versed in political science, yet what, only twenty? Twenty-two??”
The boy gave him that coy smile again, and Percy wondered if he would dodge the question once more. “Believe it or not, Percy, I’m twenty-four as well. Besides, you’re only the same and yet you’re the target of assassins. Politics is the strange thing, not us.”
Percy leaned forward. “You are strange,” he said, “Have you ever had fun?”
“Oh, plenty of times. For example, watching the bee in this room try to land in your hair,” Anthony laughed.
Percy squealed like a young girl, batting at his head on reflex.
“See, plenty of fun. Tell me you didn’t make that noise when you were attacked.”
“….no!! I fell over. Like a man.” He folded his arms and winced at the bending of his shoulder.
“That’s the worst lie I have heard in nearly five years. If we’re going to prevent another assassination, we’re going to have to start with your words.”
Percy sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair with a small laugh. “This is gonna be a long day.”
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth watched Perseus carefully from the door of the dining hall. He was eating his food far too eagerly for someone raised by a king, but she found it oddly endearing. She had entered her “interview” fully prepared for a prick of a pretty prince to babysit, determined to remain professional. But the prince, with his messy hair and fidgeting hands and hesitating tongue, had quickly evaporated her pretenses. Well, most of them. She pulled at her shirt.
Thinking of the interview, she reminded herself that this was Percy, not Perseus. That was when Percy finished his meal and waved her over.
“Anthony, c’mere,” the prince said with his ever present, lopsided, sunny smile.
Annabeth chafed at her new name, but that smile fought her annoyance away quickly. What kind of prince was allowed to say “c’mere” like that anyway? “Yes?”
“Will you go on a walk with me? I’ve been stuck doing diplomacy all. Day.” He talked like he was still sixteen.
After checking that everyone was out of earshot, Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “I believe that going on walks with you, is, in fact, my job.”
“Well I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I just made you do stuff,” Percy said, looking offended that she would insinuate that they weren’t friends.
Annabeth mentally shoved herself aside. She had to be careful. Percy wouldn’t punish her for friendship, but would Poseidon? And in a friendship, what would come out? More verbal slips like teases and jokes? She couldn’t risk it. But he was asking. Very nicely.
Just be careful, she thought. She gave him a smile and they walked out of the door together.
The prince seemed happy outside, the faint smell of the ocean washing over the gardens, where peach blossoms were covering half he palace grounds.
Which was beyond unfair, Annabeth thought. Because this boy of black and blue shimmered the same color as the blossoms in the setting sun. Unfair. Beyond so. Annabeth tried to find a more helpful mantra. This can’t be happening.
“Anthony,” Percy said suddenly, “What’s your favorite flower?” He turned to Annabeth, and one could see the masked pain in his movement.
She was strongly tempted to say peach blossoms. She let her next step find one of the fallen flowers on the ground. Also… flowers? It seemed like a strange thing to ask to one of his friends. “I’ve never really thought about it. Have you?”
“My mother plants white roses, so the smell always reminds me of her.” He said, sitting down on a small bench.
Right. The queen. Annabeth couldn’t resist. “That’s a nice memory. If you don’t mind me asking, word of the queen doesn’t escape the palace much. What has she been up to?’
Percy looked surprised, but opened his mouth to answer. Before he could speak, however, he broke into an alarming coughing fit. His body shuddered alarmingly for a moment before he was able to regain control of himself.
“Percy,” Annabeth’s hands were up in a second, looking for something to do. Some way to help. She realized how worried her voice sounded a split second too late. She only had to hope he wouldn’t notice the too high notes, the desperate pitch. She wasn’t quite sure where that had come from herself. She tried to regroup. “That doesn’t seem like a symptom for a shoulder wound.”
Percy waved her off, apparently not taking notice of any of her mishaps. “No, no,” he said, voice a little scratchy, “It’s just a thing that happens. Don’t worry.”
“Now, I thought we worked on lying. ‘Don’t worry’ would’ve been more believable if you had said it was a one time thing,” She studied him carefully. Too honest. Too earnest. Far too self-dismissing. He didn’t seem to recognize what an important person he was. Not just to Annabeth, but not just to the kingdom at large either. He did have an important influence on the people; he was the only one of the royal family who made an effort to connect with the people when he had the chance. Annabeth couldn't help but wonder if he had made some of his “surprise” appearances against the will of his father. “Seriously, Percy. Either tell me the truth or tell me a better lie.”
Percy looked at her with an odd look in his eyes. They were a piercing, unnatural sea foam green, standing out against his shaggy black hair. “It’s nothing,” he said with a finality and tone that better matched his title. Suddenly the shaggy haired prince with the soft smile and easy going air looked almost intimidating and his voice gave orders as easy as anything.
It was a good thing Annabeth didn't care about authority. Not when she cared more about the person underneath it. Not when he was being so stupid as to put himself in danger. So she put it to the test, and started to reach for the water cup he had brought out with him. He would care if it was contagious, wouldn't he? Given, she was assuming he cared what happened to her. A bold thing to assume, when they were barely friends.
“Are you thirsty?” Percy if asked, his threatening demeanor melting away. “You can have some if you want, carrying that sword must be tiring.”
Annabeth felt gears click into place. So it wasn't contagious. But it had been too violent to be a one time thing, a small thing. Not contagious, something he was apparently used to but was clearly harmful. She filed the information away. “Oh, sorry. Left mine inside. But if you wouldn’t mind,” she took a swig. “Refreshing.”
Percy smiled in a way unlike his usual lopsided grin. A little more strained. “Have all you need, Ant.”
He was a little more tense after that, seemingly treating himself like he was fragile or even just tired. It was off putting.
But more off-putting? He had shortened her name. She called him Percy, and he had called her Ant. Her mind felt like a clock face ticking between the same two seconds. Anthony and Percy. Percy and Anthony. Ant, and Percy. Percy, and Ant. Percy and Annabeth. Maybe. Not. She didn't have the words or the daring to try and push him after that. She had just pushed him the one time he had ordered her like a prince, and he had given her a nickname.
A few nights later Percy was laying on his bed, complaining like he usually did at 9:36 pm. “I’m just saying I am the worst diplomat! You know what I’m like, Ant, I can barely even talk to people I like!”
She pointed to the clock. “I don't know about that. You've been going for about ten minutes straight now.”
“Well yeah, but you’re you!” He pouted, putting a pillow over his face.
She was glad he likely couldn't see the five different smiles she had for that comment. “I am constantly criticizing you, blossom for brains. Why does that make it easier?”
“Because you’re….” He seemed to struggle for words for a moment. It was weird seeing the prince of the great sea kingdom look adorable, but here they were. “You’re you.Completely different.”
“Consider this your first diplomacy lesson. Elaborate,” Annabeth hoped that her want to hear him say something more wasn't painfully obvious. Actually, she wasn't sure if it would stop her from asking even if it was showing. “Why does that make it easier to talk to me?”
“You’re my only friend!” He blurted before blushing and rolling over on his bed so Annabeth couldn’t see his face. Then he said, “You don’t treat me like a prince. You treat me like…like Percy.”
Annabeth answered quietly, “I treat you pretty poorly for a friend. Why… No, that's the wrong question. I mean… I'm not used to having friends either.”
Percy turned back to her, with a soft smile that she’d never seen before on his face (but she’d come to learn was just for her). “Then we’ll learn together.” He put out his hand for her to shake.
Friends. “Yeah. We can do that,” she squeezed his hand just a little before letting go.
Percy 🩵
Percy felt it growing in his chest. Felt the bleeding, leaching curse in his heart and his gut. He could feel his body begin to fail as his twenty fifth birthday began to approach. And all his father would say is that he would “take care of it.”
Sometimes he hated his dad.
One day, almost a month and a half after Anthony had started working at the palace. Percy felt paralyzed in bed when he woke up. He was consumed with such gripping anxiety that he couldn’t make himself get out of bed. He needed to get up, he couldn’t let Anthony see him in this state. He could feel the dark magic crawling up his throat, trying to rip his body apart. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let Anthony see this. He hated the weakness he held. Percy prided himself in his ability to hide it all behind an easy smile. This wasn’t something he could hide.
Laying there in his bed, he felt useless and weak.
Right up until Anthony knocked on the door. “Percy, we both know how he is about you being at breakfast.”
Percy tried to respond, wanted to cover for himself, but the only thing that would leave his mouth was a pathetic strangled sound that made Percy panic even more. The thought of his fathers disappointed eyes made his hands shake. He couldn’t move, his airways seemed clogged.
“Hey, are you even up?” Anthony used his key to come in. “Ha, you are. Should I…” His eyes darted across Percy methodically. Did he know? He always looked like he knew. “That's a really intense bedhead you got going on.”
Percy tried to say something, to retort or make some random comment. But instead, to his horror, tears started falling from his eyes unbidden. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see right. Anthony looked at him and suddenly all Percy could see was in his face was disgust. He had so many secrets in his head that Percy wanted to know. But he was too pathetic to be his equal, even if he was a prince. Ant was far too smart, far too handsome, far too good.
And wasn't that proved by the way his hands were already up like they had been in the garden? Clearly searching, unsure of what to do. That had to mean something, someone so sure unsteadied by his pain. “What, I-” he stammered. “I- Percy, what is- Please just tell me, you can't keep lying because-” He stopped rambling when Percy didn't stop crying. “What can I do?”
Percy chocked on his breath, not able to truly inhale. He buried his face in his hands. It was too late, Ant could see him now. Perseus, laid bare behind closed doors. He could feel every part of his existence revolt. His father would tell him to man up and be a proper prince. But Percy’s anxiety ridden mind and curse ridden body wouldn’t cooperate.
Anthony's hands found his and pulled them away from his face. The other man was kneeling, his sword discarded on the floor. He was looking at Percy's eyes the same way a stormy sky in Oregon watches the ocean. “Just tell me. You are really good at telling the truth, when you let yourself.”
Percy was jarred into a sense of calm by the grounding warmth of Ant’s hands. Suddenly he could breathe. He looked at Ant, eith his angular face and stormy eyes. His best friend.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“For you? Of course,” Ant’s voice sounded a little choked, like what he really meant was: For you? Anything.
“Swear on your job.”
“My job? I thought we decided this was a friendship. I swear on us, Percy. You idiot.”
Everything in Percy was screaming at him to stay silent. Every single thing in his brain wanted him to keep the kingdom’s biggest secret to himself. But those storm gray eyes…
They could get any secret.
He swallowed and whispered, “I’m not….I probably won’t be alive in six months.” He looked away from his friend and his voice broke as he said, “I’m sorry.”
Ant's eyes seemed to break. The crystal clouds skipped their usual lightning and went into a downpour of their own. Just one raindrop escaped. His hands were shaking around Percy's. “You can't… you shouldn't apologize for dying. But then you shouldn't – you shouldn't care more about what that would do to me, what is… what am I supposed to do? What do I… I…” Ant paused, clearly trying to keep it together, blinking wildly. “You've got to tell me what I can do. Not because you're my boss but you're my friend and you're supposed to tell me what I should do. Percy…”
The sight of his friend so upset made Percy feel ten times worse. He had known he was destined for a painful, slow death since thirteen. But suddenly he had someone he really cared for. Someone who just might care for him. “….stay with me? No matter what happens?” He hesitated for a moment and said, “And lay some white roses for me when…when I go?”
“I wish I could just go with you. But I can stay. For that.”
Percy breathed in shakily. He managed to sit up and pull his friend into a hug with his trembling arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, and truly meant it. Someone would be there, someone who knew it wasn’t an accident, even if he didn’t know it all. He was determined to not let this ruin it all.
It was almost frightening how hard Ant hugged back. Percy felt as if he would break into a million pieces if he ever let go. Maybe if he stayed here in his best friend’s arms he wouldn’t die. Maybe he’d be safe here. Maybe his mother’s grief and his fathers anger wouldn’t slowly leach his life away just like the curse that lived in his fragile heart.
“Of course,” Ant managed.
Percy pulled away and searched his friend’s storm gray eyes for some kind of promise, some kind of reality in which he lived.
He found nothing.
And Anthony, for once, didn't have words.
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth hurt with the thought of him. She tried to refocus on the moment, he was eating lunch and she was supposed to be paying attention. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since that morning, and she still didn’t know what she was supposed to say after that. She ran it over in her mind again, trying to process what he had told her.
She knocked on his door, like she had every morning that month. She wondered if Percy thought that it was her way of staying professional. It was actually her way of avoiding any incidents. It was strange to deal with the fact that Percy didn’t know she was a girl. It was funny that he hadn’t, she hadn’t done anything overly elaborate to disguise herself other than wear baggier clothes. She smiled once more at her subterfuge and knocked on the door. “Percy, we both know how he is about you being at breakfast.”
Nothing. No response. Annabeth felt a slight jolt of panic. Another assassin? She had known, had known, she should've just swallowed her modesty and stayed in Percy's room to make sure he stayed safe and- Annabeth breathed in. No. He might just still be asleep.
“Hey, are you even up?” Annabeth used her key to come in. “Ha, you are. Should I…” She took in the prince, shaking in his bed. He was pale. She had been right: something was wrong. But something in his eyes as they met hers made her pause in speaking up about it. “That's a really intense bedhead you got going on,” She managed.
Percy's mouth opened, but he only ended up choking in a breath before beginning to cry. His eyes met hers, and appeared to be in a level of pain far beyond physical. It was a look that begged her to not give him pity. Not to care. Not to judge him. Annabeth hurt to think that he thought she would judge him, or think less of him because of something he couldn't control. He had done a wonderful job of being a wonderful person despite whatever disease was attacking him, couldn't he see that?
But the tears in his eyes. The pain that she couldn't relieve, even if she tried. But she had to try. Had to. “What, I-” she stammered, staring at his bandages and peaky skin. “I- Percy, what is- Please just tell me, you can't keep lying because-” Because he needed help. How could Annabeth be what he needed if she didn't know what was wrong? She realized that was the real question, and the answer was what she had to focus on. “What can I do?”
Percy choked on his breath, not able to truly inhale. He buried his face in his hands. Annabeth felt like curling in on herself like a dying spider. He had rolled over slightly, away from her. Shame. She could see it in his attempts to hide. Despair. She saw it in his stillness.
She ran forward and threw her sword aside. Hope. She would give it to him, somehow. She knelt by his bedside the way she used to kneel beside a fallen plate. What was broken? What could she do? How could she help? She wanted to see his eyes. How badly she wanted to see his eyes. They always told her the truth. Hardly thinking of what she was doing, she took his hands and pulled them away from his eyes. That was too impulsive for her taste. But today that shouldn't matter: not when he just needed someone to try anything. “Just tell me,” she wasn't sure if that was a command or a plea. “You are really good at telling the truth, when you let yourself.”
Percy tried to breathe. Once. Twice. Three times. Was he even able to tell her? Would he?
He finally murmured, “Can you keep a secret?”
“For you? Of course.”
For her only friend? Her best friend? For someone who was kind and brave? For someone she was desperate to keep? Anything.
“Swear on your job.”
Her heart dropped. Color rose to her cheeks. “My job? I thought we decided this was a friendship. I swear on us, Percy. You idiot.”
He swallowed. Annabeth felt her heartbeat pause with his breath. He whispered, “I’m not….I probably won’t be alive in six months.” He looked away from his friend and his voice broke as he said, “I’m sorry.”
Nothing. There was nothing. There was nothing left to live for, nothing left to die for. Nothing to care about, nothing to save. Her mind was falling into a canyon, pouring into the darkness with all her hopes and dreams. Somewhere over the last month, she had left time behind and begun to feel like she could watch him laugh and smile from across the room forever. She had even thought that they could joke on garden benches until they died. But she couldn't deny that she had been watching him shatter and break like a bone as well. How, how was she supposed to survive this? Only one tear escaped the abyss, but it was only for it to fall from her cheek to their intertwined hands. She wasn't going to survive.
She caught that defiant ledge. Surviving. She always survived. Always. She wouldn't survive if he died. So they would both survive. He wasn't dead yet. But she could tell that his heart was giving into despair long before it stopped. So how did she bring him back? What words could possibly show him that she would help him?
“You can't… you shouldn't apologize for dying. But then you shouldn't – you shouldn't care more about what that would do to me, what is… what am I supposed to do? What do I… I…” Annabeth paused. The question was still screaming: what am I supposed to do without you? “You've got to tell me what I can do. Not because you're my boss but you're my friend and you're supposed to tell me what I should do. Percy…”
He let his hands twist around hers in a desperate squeeze. “….stay with me? No matter what happens?” He hesitated for a moment and said, “And lay some white roses for me when…when I go?”
She had never imagined anything so devastatingly clearly. His eyes closed, focused where they could never try to lie again. His breath frozen where it would never escape into laughter again. Pale skin that would never shimmer like peach blossoms in a sunset again. Her sweet prince, where no one but the angels could wish him good night. She would give anything to rob the angels of that. She would drag herself down to hell if that was what it took to have even one extra night with him. They would never make him rest. Not if she had anything to say about it. She would go with him if she had to. “I wish I could just go with you,” She imagined it, two corpses next to each other. No one would know why either had died. But then she imagined a final breath of his, asking her for his mother’s roses and her ears incapable of hearing. No, she would not go with him if it deprived him of any final joy. “But I can stay. For that.”
Percy breathed in shakily. He managed to sit up and pull his friend into a hug with his trembling arms. She could feel the strength in him being sapped away by the simple act of affection, but she couldn't bring herself to make him rest. Not when she needed, so badly, to feel his heartbeat pounding against hers. No corpses. Not yet. Never.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Annabeth ached to think that she would ever have to keep her promise.
How was she going to survive?
“Of course,” she managed.
Percy pulled away and met her eyes with the empty center of hurricanes in his own. She searched for the sunlight he always had, but there was nothing.
Without him, there would never be anything again.
Nothing.
Annabeth looked at him, resting his elbows on the table. No, she had no idea what she would say when they returned to his room that night.
Percy 🩵
Percy was standing in the middle of a dazzling, twisting spectacle. Champagne made his head feel fuzzy and light. He had been going to these balls since he was born, but lately he had started to dread them. He pulled at the collar of his dress robes and sipped more champagne. His chest ached, though that hadn’t ceased since it had begun a week ago, and he had resolved not to tell anyone.
He could see Anthony blending in with the crowd, keeping a close eye on him yet easily melting to the background. He seemed to notice Percy looking – that made sense, Ant was supposed to watch his every move – and nodded his head ever so slightly. He even seemed to smile.Percy felt his face go hot and turned away, the alcohol making a smile bubble up on his own lips.
Anthony was truly a beautiful man. He belonged in paintings and sonnets. If only Percy wasn’t so terrible with words. If only he had the free will to choose who to marry. How many flutes of champagne made him admit that to himself, he wondered.
Ant’s eyes narrowed, and almost as if he could read Percy’s mind, he studied the glass in Percy’s hand. The look Anthony gave next reminded Percy of the look of a mother with a son who had just grabbed one too many cookies.
What’s wrong? Anthony mouthed next. It was subtle, but clear. He could tell that Percy was thinking too hard. Percy knew he was suddenly grinning like an idiot and waving shakily. The left half of his brain was yelling at him to drink a little water or go sit down. It wasn’t a super great look for the prince to be tipsy, even if all the other guests were dead to the world drunk. Yet all he could do was think of Ant. He watched for a moment, fighting with himself. But Ant’s eyes seemed to see everything he was doing. Percy put down a grin? Ant cocked his head. Put down his hand? Ant seemed… sad. Smiled again with a wink? Ant put a hand on… his hip?
Percy squinted, buffeted by the rowdy nobles. He felt himself pushed towards the corner. Collapsing back into a chair, Percy yawned and rubbed his eyes. He put his empty champagne flute down by the leg of the chair. He was tired. He wanted to go back to his room and talk with Ant. Almost as if summoned, Ant appeared at his side, having found a stealthy way to him along the walls. He grabbed Percy’s glass and placed it on the table with a whisper, “Someone will knock that over. You might even be the one to do that.”
“Hi,” he said softly, eyes trained on his friend, “I missed you.”
Ant blushed. Or was it the lights? “We’ve been in the same room all night.”
”But I missed you,” he frowned, vision spinning a little bit, “I feel…” he paused, unsure of what to say, yet the words fell out of his mouth anyway. “I feel happy around you.”
“We’re friends. I should hope that makes you happy. But I think the happy juice is helping with that effect. You shouldn’t be trying to be political or diplomatic or talking at all right now. Do you need to retire early?” Percy nodded, his heart feeling warm. He stood up, swaying a little bit and rubbing his eyes again.
They spent that night talking, though when he woke up in the morning he didn’t remember most of it. He didn’t remember what time Ant had left or what he had said or what they had talked about. He just remembered such a vivid feeling of longing that he woke up still a bit melancholy.
It was hard to fall asleep that night, his brain buzzed and his heart creating emotions that Percy didn’t know existed. His mind was occupied with him. He tossed and turned, the moonlight that streamed through the window moving slowly across the stone floor. Percy closed his eyes with an exhale. Anthony. Ant. The man who wouldn’t say his favorite flower but still stayed by his side like it was the most important task in the world. As if he was a precious treasure that needed to be guarded at all costs. With his eyes. Oh, those eyes. They held storm clouds and clear skies. Their piercing gaze made Percy jittery.
His blonde hair.
His protective nature.
The way he cared so much but refused to show it.
His face that looked unlike any man he had known.
His pale, moonlight infused skin.
His odd sense of fashion.
His aversion to most hugs.
His small hands that could so easily parry and strike with his sword.
How he was shorter than most men.
His odd mannerisms.
…
Percy sat up in his bed, the heavy covers resisting. He had never sobered up so quickly, the gears in his brain rapidly beginning to turn. Pieces started falling into place, yet he couldn’t see the full picture. Something connected all of it. Anthony’s slightly odd, ethereal physical appearance. The way he sometimes seemed to forget his name. Percy rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Just what was happening with Anthony? Why did he look slightly younger then he was, why did he look drowned in a full suit of armor that wasn’t his own?
Percy looked at his hands, his brow furrowed with confusion, sure he was missing something. Something important. Something that Ant wasn’t telling him.
Then it clicked.
And it was clear.
Anthony was a girl.
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth saw that something was wrong the second she walked in that morning.
Percy was pacing back and forth. Usually he wasn’t even up at this time, but now he was up and fully dressed. His face was all screwed up, unusually serious and thoughtful.
“Have a meeting today?” She asked tentatively. What was wrong? The prince jumped a little and stared at her as if she had never seen her before.
“Percy, are you okay?” Don't be dying. The prince shook his head, staring still. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead nodded. He seemed to be in a contradictory mood.
“Try to articulate for me, yes? You're alright, yes or no?”
“I…” he paused. He didn’t sound sick, just tired. And thoughtful. “I have something I need to ask you, but if I’m wrong you’ll be offended, but I’m pretty sure I’m right but if I’m wrong-“ he blurted, barely stopping for breath.
Annabeth felt warning bells go off in her head. It was rare that Percy was this worried. But she forced her anxiety down. This was Percy. He was likely just overthinking and rambling as he sometimes did. “Percy, you could never offend me. What is it? I'm sure it's a simple question.”
“See, it’s really not,” he said, still forgetting to breathe, his voice straining with slight panic, “It’s actually the opposite of simple. And I don’t want you to not be friends with me anymore or quit your job. If I’m right, know I’m not mad at you and I won’t fire you. Because you’re my best friend.”
“Percy, why would I quit my job? That would be like quitting our friendship. Why in heaven's name would I do that? I’m sticking with you until the bitter end whether you like it or not.” It hurts to think about the end.
“Because you’re a girl!” Percy blurted, then looked shocked with himself. He turned away, hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. A nervous tic of his.
It was worse than she had ever imagined. Her heart hurt. Her lungs were gone, suddenly they were twice the size of her shirt and empty like a gaping void. No air would be enough to give her her voice back. But she had to try. She took a knee and felt herself shaking against the floor. “Don't send me away. Percy, please. Please. Don't send me away.” She bowed her head, crying as she waited for the worst words she would ever hear.
Percy dropped to his knees in front of her, hands hovering, looking oh so concerned and worried. So caring, sorrow in his eyes. He seemed to struggle for words for a moment before saying, “No, Ant. What did I tell you? I need you. You promised to be here and you don’t break promises. You can’t.” He took her face in his hands, making her look at him. His lips were pursed with worry and there were tears in his eyes.
Annabeth felt everything in her crumbling. The only thing holding her scattered mind together was his hands on her cheeks. Could he feel how warm they were with shame and terror? Her tears on her cheeks were flooding her throat with emotion, and she wasn't sure what to say. “I never told you. I never would have. I would've lied forever. What gave me away?”
He pulled her into a tight hug. “I don’t know,” he said softly, “I just know you.” He paused for a moment, hugging her like he knew that he was the only thing keeping her from crumbling. “What…” he trailed off and swallowed then continued in a whisper, “What’s your name? Your real name?”
“My name is Annabeth. Annabeth Chase. I'm no knight. I'm a kid who got a sword and got better than anyone in town. But I was always just… just Annabeth. But now I'm Ant, too. This life, it didn't feel right until you called me that.”
“Annabeth,” he echoed, as if testing the name on his tongue, rolling it around in his mouth, “That’s beautiful. But I can still call you Ant, if it…if it makes you happy. Please don’t think this changes what I think of you. You’re still my best friend.”
“But things have to change somehow. Lying to you for a month doesn't change anything? Are we both just going to lie and lie until I'm fired and you're… And you're…” Annabeth started to cry again with the thought. He just held her tighter. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Promises go both ways.”
“Why do you trust me? Why?”
He paused and pulled away, staring at her. Then he sighed. “I said it before,” he whispered, “I know you.”
“Then if you figured out I'm a girl, why haven't you figured out that I am terrible at committing? Don't you get that I can't stand when things go wrong? Do you even know the number of times, every day, that I have to force myself not to make everyone tell me what I want to know? I can do terrible things, Percy. And you… you would never do any of it. You don't even tell your father how terrible he has been, or even insult your assassin. You don't even know any of that about yourself. You're good. And I'm prideful and cruel. You… you should be mad.”
“Would you shut up?!” Percy snapped suddenly. He struggled for words for a moment and his voice broke as he said, “You’re- you make me feel like a person. Like somebody cares about Percy. You’re so smart and you’re so strong and I don’t think I could live in a world without you! Please just stop saying you’re bad when you’re the best person I’ve ever met!”
Annabeth looked at the suddenly fierce storm in his eyes. The only time he had ever gotten close to angry, and it was because he wanted to compliment her.“If I'm smart, then would you believe me when I say that I don't understand why there is anyone in the world who doesn't care about you? That I don't know why everyone in the world isn't spending every waking moment trying to make sure that you can stay?”
The storm seemed to cease suddenly, his face paling a little. He let go of her and bowed his head. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, “This is a lot. I’m sorry, Ant.” Percy wouldn’t look at her.
“I am not mad at you,” Annabeth returned his favor, and used a hand to raise his head back to her eyes. “I'm- I'm just sad. There's too many good people who have to leave too early, and you… you're the best person I've ever met too.”
“I’m not—“
“You are. And you're sad too. I see it in your eyes. You can smile all you want, you can eat your breakfast like a dork, but I can see it. And I just want you to be happy. If that means telling you the truth, I’ll tell you everything from day one. If that means stopping assassins? Okay, then I'm a knight in shining armor. What do you need, Percy? How can I make you happy again?”
Percy stared at her. Just looked. Then he opened his mouth. It looked like he struggled to speak. “….there’s a way you could help me live. It’s not exactly concrete and I don’t know much about it but…it would mean I wouldn’t die.”
Annabeth's heart stopped. No white roses. That was all she wanted: no white roses. Hardly thinking of what she was doing, she put her hands on his shoulders, holding on as tightly as she could. “What? How? I don't care how long or how hard, you have to let me try. I'll die with you, you know that.”
“Do you know anything of magic, ant?” He asked, almost out of the blue.
Not much. But enough. Gears turned. Stories were recalled. She studied his eyes warily. “Percy… what in the name of kingdoms come does magic have to do with your sickness?”
Percy 🩵
When the clock strikes midnight on the 25th birthday of the son of the sea, he shall be drowned in his own blood. Pain consume him, a punishment for your crimes. Pain possess him, with no sight of light. Let him drown, unless these debts be paid by his sanity. May pain eat him alive and those he love watch. May he drown, saved only by a storm.
Those words echoed in his mind as he stared at Annabeth. She looked so desperate. “I’m not sick, Annabeth.”
“Then what? What? Percy, please. You can't…you have to let me try,” she swallowed, squeezing his hands tightly enough that he could feel her pulse. “Magic? Start there.” He didn’t want to tell her. He couldn’t , it was wrong. His father would scream at him. But looking into her eyes…he knew he had too.
“I’m cursed.”
Her eyes widened. She blinked. He watched her eyes try to process, figure out the riddle. But the eyes didn't stop darting. They usually landed on an answer. “How long? How… How do you even curse someone? Who?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a punishment for my father.”
Anger. No, fury. Annabeth’s eyes clouded over faster than lightning strikes. “What did he do? And he just let you deal with it? What right does he have to hide whatever he did at the price of your sanity?”
“I don’t know! Do you think he tells me these things?! He barely even talks to me! Every time I ask he says he’s ’working on it.’”
He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, to curl up in Ant’s comforting warmth and forget about his rapidly approaching death, about everything that hurt. The way the curse was carved into every beat of his heart, the taste of blood that never left his mouth. He just wanted to sleep. To go somewhere far away from here.
Ant seemed to know. Suddenly, her arms were around him as if she could keep his descending mind tethered to this room, this moment. The hug seemed half for her comfort as well as his own. She was shaking. Hard. It was like she thought that she was the only thing keeping him here. Maybe she was. “Percy, please just– I am here for you. I can't control your father, or punish him myself, but I can be here for you. That's what matters the most to me anyways. So we don't know how this started. You said you might know how to end it. Will you let me save you? Will you- will you promise?”
He buried his face in her shoulder. She always smelled like pine smoke. “You can’t leave,” he whispered.
He felt her freeze, just the smallest bit. But then she seemed to collapse into his own shattering form and raised a hand to his hair. She even let her head rest on his. “I couldn't leave you,” she murmured in reply. “I think I would die. Just don't- don't leave me either, Percy.”
He began to whisper the words of the prophecy, his voice shaking. Over and over and over he whispered the mantra, his eyes and soul heavy. He could feel the words eating him alive, just like it said. He breathed in her pine smoke scent like he would never be able to breathe again. All he wanted was to live for just a little bit longer, if only to exist in her shelter.
He knew he needed her in a way that he had never known. Was this what it felt like to have a friend?
“A storm,” she, of course, latched onto the chance to save him. But he knew that wasn't all, she had started shaking as he spoke of blood, pain, madness, death. She had started crying. She had broken in his arms. But she focused on the chance. The light at the end of the tunnel. He knew this because he knew her. He knew how her mind worked. “A storm. I'll get the magic it takes to control the ocean if that's what it takes. I'll make a hurricane. I won't lose you, I won't-” She choked on her voice. “I won't let you die.”
Annabeth 🩶
They had planned. They had theorized. Percy had exhausted himself night after night, even though Annabeth had tried everything to make the idiot sleep. But she stayed after he fell asleep every night to put away another memory of him resting and breathing easy, humming an old lullaby she knew from her mother. There were no more attempts on his life, but the king had decided that the prince needed protection despite that, now that he was “soon to become king.” As if he knew how to save him. All he knew was how to save his own face. But Annabeth would save Percy. Even if it cost her everything. And it was time. They would escape. They would find the storm.
They had been packing, preparing maps to lead them to the “pass of a thousand storms.” The best lead they had. Rumored to be home to witches and fae with powerful magic. Maybe someone there knew how to help them.That had to be where his cure was. It just had to be.
The evening of their escape, Annabeth knocked on Percy’s door to no answer. She panicked. She tried again. She tried her key. She could hear the faint sound of panicked breathing. She ran up to his bed, where he was shaking. His eyes were shut tight. He held his hands to his nose, which was bleeding profusely and covering his wrists and hands, holding a rose to his face at the same time. A white rose, dappled with Percy’s crimson blood. He was mumbling incoherently.
It was sad, but just absurd enough to get her to laugh through a few tears. “Oh my, my prince. Are we stopped here by a bloody nose?” She smiled and looked around. She looked down at her ridiculously oversized shirt and ripped off an edge. “Use it to plug it. We don't want your father thinking that an assassin got in.”
Percy doesn’t take it, just clutches his rose. It’s as if he doesn’t even know she’s there. He just mutters something about his mother, tear tracks shining on his face.
Annabeth panicked again. “Percy? Percy, hey. Hey, I can't watch you hurt like this! Please, please, please. What in the world am I supposed to do?” How did she bring him back? “You know you asked me for roses right? Of course you do. Well, I think that it's sweet that you love your flowers.” She ached to see him so close to her vision of his corpse. The only thing keeping her going was his voice, haunting the room like a ghost. “Well, my favorite is peach blossoms. You made them my favorite in the garden. When you called me Ant for the first time. They were growing, and it made me feel like I could grow into a new life here. We're going to go make another new life, Percy. We're going to start by saving yours. And then we can pick white roses and peach blossoms every week. Please?” She brought her hands up to his face. “Please?”
His eyes come into focus. Focusing on her. He drops the rose, which has left small cuts from the thorns. “Annabeth…?” He whispers, desperate.
“Yes, yes, yes. Come here, please. Let me just-” She hugged him as hard as she could.
“How can I leave…?” He whispers.
“Because we'll lose you. We'll actually lose you. She'll be here, Percy. She- she loves you.” Annabeth was not talking about his mother. But they applied to his mother all the same. “She would want you to live. I remember when she stopped joining you on your outside adventures to the cities. She was a beautiful woman who always smiled,” Annabeth remembered the smile spared from the regal majesty in the carriage, given to a wide eyed, wild haired girl with a wooden sword. “She would want you to smile. But what do you want?
“She would be heartbroken,” he muttered, staring at the rose in his hand, “And my dad- he would kill me, Annabeth.”
Annabeth felt his words like a sword slashing her knees out from under her. “Percy, does she love you?” She didn't wait for an answer, it was in his eyes. The tears that welled up said it all. “Then imagine the moment I will have to watch you die. And then imagine the moment that I will have to go to your mother,” Annabeth's voice cracked. “-and ask her for a bouquet of white roses.”
He paused, blinking rapidly. He looked at Annabeth like she was a shining light at the end of the tunnel. Then he began to laugh. Just a little, as tears spilled from his eyes. “I think-“ he gasped, "that's the first time your ‘worst case scenario’ tactic has ever worked. You’re such a weirdo, Ant.”
Annabeth’s cheeks became angry and hot. “You are scaring the living daylights out of me! I'm going to- I'm going to- will you stop laughing this is-” Percy pulled her into a hug, getting blood on her clothes.
It was hard to be serious when he was laughing so hard at such an absurd moment. She just joined him and let herself laugh and cry and lean into him even as he tried to wipe his blood away. “Please just be my friend forever,” she giggled, but she sobbed it too, and what in heaven's name was wrong with her heartbeat right now?
“I’m afraid you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I’m a prince of the sea, y’know. I’m like a barnacle. I stick to you.” He said, a small version of his goofy, lopsided grin on his face.
“You could've just gone with the tide analogy like a normal person, but no,” Annabeth laughed even harder. She hugged him even harder too. She wasn't standing right. She felt her legs giving out under the strain. She was going to break if this kept up, but she almost didn't care. A broken knight and prince. A matching set. Why not?
“Don’t we have a boat to catch and a castle to escape?” He asked, a laugh still in his voice. It sounded like music. It sounded like the sun would when it shone on peach blossoms.
“I'm the knight in shining armor, thank you. I will be calling the rescuing shots, my prince. I say we escape a castle.”
Percy 🩵
Percy sat on the deck of their small rented ship, watching Annabeth confidently steer at the helm. Heavens, she was stunning when she was standing with confidence.
He had known he was in love with her a week into their voyage. He had known, laying in his hammock on deck, listening to her soft breaths in the night. His knight in shining armor. He thought of her always. He was suddenly startled out of his admiring daze by her call,
“Lunch break! What's on the menu?” She asked, tying a knot by the sail. “Only the finest bread, meat, and apple slices for the fine lady.” He called back, smiling. He had gotten her a surprise at their last docking that morning.
“Bread? My favorite. I certainly like it more than bread, bread, and more bread,” she winked. “What would you think if we had fish one of these days?” “Catch anything and we’ve got a deal, Ant,” he teased, watching her hair glisten in the summer sun.
“I consider that a personal challenge, Percy,” Annabeth smirked like she was planning a robbery. Percy chuckled at her determination. “Whatever you say,” he said, offering her the peach he had bought for her, “Surprise.”
She looked shocked for a moment. Her eyes searched the fruit quickly, and then her hands took it gently. “That's nice of you,” she murmured. “It's ripe and everything, even in the middle of the ocean. When did you get this?” He shrugged. “This morning, before we left that port.” He paused, watching her for a moment, lost in her calculated eyes. Then her eyes found his with a look softer than she usually had. “Thank you. I'll have to return the favor.”
They ate lunch together in quiet company, saying nothing in particular. He found himself watching her. He often did. Annabeth Chase was…a puzzle. A beautiful, intelligent, wonderful, loyal puzzle. Someone who had a kind of innate gentleness and care but also held so much anger and resentment and caution. Percy was still trying to figure her out, even as he dreamed of her, finally safe. Having finally satisfied whatever it was that ate at her like a parasite. She wouldn’t tell him, and it was frustrating.
All he wanted to do was be there with her like she was there for him. And then that uncanny ability to read his mind. She did it again.
“It's weird that you're the one giving me peaches. I'm supposed to be taking care of you.” Percy shrugged and looked out at the sparkling sea, breathing in the salty air that never ceased to make him miss home. “I want to be useful,” he said softly.
“I don't care if you're useful,” she looked off toward the north. “I only care that you're still here,” she didn't give him a direct chance to respond, she escaped back to the prow in a second. Percy watched her go, wanting to tell her just how helpless he had always felt. He hated being a task. Percy adored Annabeth, but she had tunnel vision. Did she even see him anymore?
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth didn't know how to talk to him anymore. When they were at the palace, they could pretend. But here, when their entire life was about saving him, it felt wrong to ignore the fact that he was dying, but then it was hard to talk about it too. She didn't know what he would prefer. She wasn't sure how to ask.
She didn't seem to know much of anything anymore.
Now she was pulling her escape from dinner again, saying she had to check something but really just eating where he couldn't see her. A storm was starting, so even though it made her uncomfortable, she decided to check on him. He wasn't in his room. She went up to the deck. And there he was, in the churning water, with eyes as glassy as a pearl on the shore.
And he was speaking. It was indecipherable, yet he didnt’t seem to even notice as he was sinking into the dark void of the water, about to be swallowed up by the great monster of the sea. His nose and mouth poured blood down his chin, dying the water with dark trails.
“Percy!” Annabeth’s screams were drowning in the thunder, like Percy was drowning in the water, in his blood.
He shall be drowned in his own blood.
This was it, she realized. She was going to lose him. Right here, right now.
She wasn't ready to live without him.
She ran and jumped off the deck into the frigid waves, clawing at the water to bring her closer to him. When she reached him, she tried desperately to move him. “Percy!” She screamed. “Percy, I can't do this!” her legs were going numb in the liquid darkness, her voice was hardly audible. She could taste his blood in her mouth. “Perc- P- Percy…”
He was sinking, buried in the waves, nearly out of reach. He still seemed unknowing to the world, so very unaware. But she could hear his desperate muttering now.
It made no sense.
Words exiting his mouth as if unwilling. Strings of seemingly unconnected words. Percy looked like he was suffering some kind of pain that even the ocean didn’t know. He looked like an injured bird, pale against the waves and helpless to save himself.
“No, please,” she chattered. There was white foam mixing with His red blood. White. Red. Like roses. Roses. She wouldn't ever give him his roses, they were both about to drown alone in the middle of the ocean and no one would ever find them and he would never get his roses.
She reached. She grabbed his arm. She couldn't pull him even one inch. He was even starting to drag her down. She was going to die. “Percy, p-please, Percy…”
He grabbed her back, his jaw snapping shut and his eyes focusing on her in an instant. “Annabeth- Annabeth what’s happening?!”
“You jumped off and-” A wave crashed over their heads. Percy pulled them back to the surface. Annabeth felt him dragging her up like a lifeline. “And we're stuck and we're going to-” Another wave. “Percy, please!”
Percy’s arm locked around her waist like a vice, and he began to swim. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was an excellent swimmer, being a prince of the kingdom of the sea. But he was fast when he wanted to be. And he certainly wanted to be.
He boosted Annabeth onto the deck of their small boat and followed, sprawling on the deck, blood still spilling down his face. It took less than a second for Annabeth to wrap her arms around him in a hug.
“We're alive. Percy, you did it, we're alive, we're alive.”
Once again, Annabeth was comforted by The feeling of his heart against hers. “We're Alive.” Percy held her in kind, his arms tight around her, skin pale and clammy. His teeth chattered violently as he said, “I-I don’t-t-t und-understand-d what-t-t ha-happened.”
Reality set in. She hadn't defied any destiny tonight. Had she completely forgotten that the prophecy had placed Percy's death on a calendar? She hadn't saved him. They were still stuck, trying to find his salvation. It was just going to be even harder than they had thought. She couldn't be so delusional as to assume everything was fixed. “Me n-neither,” she replied. “But what can we do to protect y-you if it happens again?”
Percy just stared at her, gaze unshaken yet so heartwrenchingly sad. “I know as much as you,” he said.
“So for once: we don't know anything.”
He sat up, white shirt dripping, chest still heaving from fear and from exhaustion. Annabeth could barely see, but his outline was white against the dark wood of the ship. “Yeah,” he said.
“Well, I know something, actually,” Annabeth laughed a little as the absurd thought entered her mind. There had been bread crumbs on his face at lunch. Now there was blood. “You're not allowed to say that you're useless after saving my life.” He seemed to pause for a moment, shaking like a leaf. “O-okay,” he swallowed, “okay.” His warm blood was staining her hands. Terrifying, but warm and living. So she let herself push a bit of his soaked hair away from his eyes. Those were filled with water, and she wasn't sure if it was rain or tears. Painful, but still darting over her face as if to be sure that she was alive too.
They were alive, hearts beating together in frantic unison.
Percy 🩵
Percy was, for lack of a better word, sick. When he caught his reflection in the water, he looked thin. He didn’t like it. He could almost feel his skin strangling him. He couldn’t stop thinking about that night. A shadowy, hazy dream interrupted by lightning and terror.
Percy couldn’t make any sense of it. His head hurt constantly, he could barely eat or get out of his cot, and no matter what Annabeth said, he felt useless.
He was lying on his bed, half asleep, half in a nightmare.
And she wasn't letting him get up either. He heard her voice in the fog of his brain, a gentle lullaby creeping into his tormenting dreams. He was in and out, and she was constantly begging him to just rest. He even felt her have to hold him down once, a hand on each shoulder, keep him from… getting up? He didn't know. All he wanted was to float away. Maybe she’d be better off without him.
He knew vaguely they were getting close to their destination. He could hear Ant rambling often, though he could never really focus on what she was saying. He knew she was just trying to fill the silence. She did that a lot. She rarely spoke in just one sentence. She always had a question. But he didn't have many answers or replies or much of anything for her anymore.
She would have told him that was wrong. The rainstorm was still raging, days later. When the thunder started, Percy was jostled out of his half sleep.
“Whoa!” Annabeth was there, holding out a calming hand as he started awake. “Take it easy. For my sake, okay?" Percy jumped, not aware she was in the room. He rubbed his eyes, staring at her. Something felt off. What had she been doing? Why was she awake?
“How are you doing?” She asked, seemingly oblivious (very unusual) to his feelings, his thoughts, and the many questions he had about the fact that she was so close to him. “You've been in and out all week.” He shuffled backwards, confused. “What…?” That was all he could manage with his scratchy voice.
She picked up on his exhaustion. “Not too good. You'd think that with nearly drowning you wouldn't need more water. Oh well,” she handed him a glass of water. “Now drink up. I don't want you to pass out again.” He just stared at her. “Ant you’re acting weird,” he said.
He could practically see her pulling out blueprints for emotional barricades. Her storm eyes became voids. “What makes you think that? You’re the one who's been, quite literally, out of it.” You’re hovering,” he accused quietly, not daring to look at her, “You’re always here, why aren’t you sleeping?”
“And how would you know I've been here all week Sleeping Beauty?” She raised an eyebrow over tired eyes. He couldn’t look at her, couldn't handle the shame she was throwing at him like stones. “Please just go away, Annabeth.”
She looked like she had been slapped. She blinked a little as she tried to speak. “Percy, this is my job. Don't- don't make me go when you could get hurt.”
Percy couldn't do this he couldn’t do this he was just sick and so tired and scared. “Get out,” he said softly. He couldn’t handle it. He had never been as strong as he tried to be. Percy had never been good at handling being upset.
Annabeth was speechless. No words, hardly even an opened mouth before she turned away from him. She looked like she wanted to curl up in a corner. Of course she would never do that, though. She was too strong to surrender. She walked out the door and closed it.
It left Percy feeling so helplessly alone, so angry and tired. He just wanted to feel better, and Annabeth, as much as she tried, couldn’t make that happen.
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth paused in front of his door three times that evening. The first time was right after she closed it. She had wanted to do a lot of things at that moment. Scream. Cry. Punch the door. Open it and scream at him about how it wasn't fair to make her leave after making her care about him staying – or just tell him that he was a jerk, but she wasn't ever going to be able to call him that. You didn't even hear me out. So she walked away.
Then she paused when she had grabbed dinner. She wanted to take him a plate. He probably wouldn't take it. He didn't seem to accept anything from her anymore. So she had eaten dinner alone.
Finally, she wanted to say goodnight. A way of saying she didn't care, all was forgiven, they could move on, and she would do what he wanted. But she did care and she wasn't sure if he would forgive her for wanting to stay with him.
So she ended up doing what she had avoided all evening and started crying. Her hand nearly knocked on the door three times. Each time, she was too embarrassed to even try. She turned away from the door and sat on the deck of the ship, just crying. She was pathetic.
She saw him three times.
The first time he had actually gotten up and gotten outside, staring at the water from a distance with glassy eyes. That had scared her more than she cared to admit. Would he jump? Would he start bleeding and drowning and sinking and sending her back into that nightmare all over again? She didn't know how to ask him any of that, so she had gone on steering the ship.
The second time, he looked…better. It was two days later and he had color in his previously deathly pale skin. He was trying to coax a seagull away from his food on the top deck, smiling a little. He wouldn't even wave it away. He was too gentle. The sun was shining silver on his cheeks. Annabeth had nearly tripped at the sight of him. He hadn't smiled in a very long time. The closest he had come to being happy this week was when he was resting. And he hadn't rested much. He had spent half the time tossing and turning and the other half shaking. There had been the time he had fought her to get up. When she had had to hold him to his bed until he laid back down. He had looked like her hands were burning him. None of that pain was in his face when he was with the seagull.
And the third time he was looking at her. It was only a moment of eye contact, filled with words neither of them could say, before they both turned. And Annabeth couldn't take it. She had started for her own room's door, and then paused. Was she really going to go cry again? Pathetic. Weak.
She whipped around, painfully aware of the tears fighting to reach her eyes. “Can we talk again?” She asked. “I know I messed up, or hurt you, or got too close, or something, but I can't take it anymore! I'm sorry. I don't know what it is I did but I'm sorry because it hurts to see you hurt and it hurts to not even be able to talk to you. So just say something. Please.”
He didn’t look at her. But he did speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. His voice was no longer rough. “I shouldn’t…you were just trying to help.”
“Did I help? At all?” Annabeth was shaking a little. She was supposed to help him, and she had been “trying,” but was she succeeding? He wasn't even meeting her eyes. “You tried,” he repeated, “But Annabeth-“ he said her name like a plea, a surrender, a prayer, “-you can’t fix me. No matter how much you try.” He was staring at her now, his once bright and twinkling seafoam green eyes now dark like a deep ocean in the dim light.
So not enough. It was never enough. No, that wasn't fair. Percy wasn't mad, he had just said so. He wasn't her father, he wasn't the rest of the world. But still. But still. “Don’t you get it? If I lose you, I'm the broken one. I'm not going to survive it.” Percy stepped backward. “Annabeth, what are you talking about?”
“I came to the palace for a job. And then I met you and heaven forbid I started caring. And now I don't even care about the job, heaven knows I'm fired, and I just care about you. You're my only friend. And I'm going to lose you. I've only had you for a few months and now I'm going to lose you. I didn't even know I had invested Everything in you until I realized it was all going with you. I can bring you your roses if you want but I have no idea what I'm supposed to do after that. I don't want to do anything after that because it's wrong that everyone is just going to move on. Losing you should make the whole world crumble.” She took a deep breath. She had just said… a lot. Too much. Way too much. “I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I'm sorry.” She stumbled towards her bedroom, wiping her eyes furiously so she could see the doorknob.
A hand curled around hers, grip tighter then the night in the sea. She turned to find him staring at her in a way that almost tricked Annabeth into thinking he might be in love with her.
She wasn't sure why she wanted that to be true. She wasn't sure why the waves in his eyes seemed to be crashing towards her. “Percy…” She choked out. And then she gave him a hug. She still wasn't used to the fact that she could hug him now, she hadn't been able to risk being discovered. But now she was risking all of her emotions on this, and that was a weakness. A big one. But if she was going to break down, she might as well shatter. So she hugged him as tight as she dared and closed her eyes even tighter and prepared herself for what would happen if he shoved her away.
Yet he still held her. He held her and whispered an apology that fell on her ears like heavenly music. Hand on her back, warm living flesh against hers with a steady rhythm of heartbeats, continuing on between them.
“Don't be sorry,” she whispered back. “Just don't leave me.” He looked as if he was about to protest. But then he looked at the ground. He had left her, for a little bit. “Okay. I promise,” he looked up, a gentle and adoring smile on his face, “You can’t get rid of me.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Percy 🩵
The pass was made or dark craggy cliffs. Percy and Annabeth had to work together for hours just to keep from crashing into one of the sharp sides. They began to see huts constructed into the walls. Carved into the rock. Lights in caves. Wooden structures hanging into the air. Percy had never seen anything like it as they navigated around canoes and boats no larger than their own.
Annabeth stumbled the second they released the ropes. Sometimes he forgot that they were both exhausted. Now her eyes were drinking in their surroundings with calculations and very little wonder. No, now they were awe-filled because of a temple built into a cliff with columns. She went back to observing. Focused.
Percy tied a rope to what could generously be called a dock, connected to what looked like this place’s version of an inn.. He turned to Annabeth. She looked so tired. He guessed they both did. Her strong, tall figure looked strained. He ached for her, wanted to care for her as she had tried to care for him. Percy wanted to tell her that she looked pretty with her hair handing down in strands, stiff with the salty ocean air. His knight in shining armor, paranoid and barely able to stand.
He watched her paint on a smile. She put a hand on the pommel of her sword (hidden under a cloak) and gave him a smirk. “In we go. Stay together.” Percy was slightly taken aback. “Shouldn’t we rest first?”
Her fingers twitched by her sword. They started tapping. “I want to keep moving. But if you need some rest,” concern entered her voice and her eyes paused to study how he was doing. “Maybe we should stop. It's your decision.” He sighed. She did this so often. Put off her own needs. It was horrible to watch. “You look exhausted, Annabeth. I can go in alone if—“
“If I need some rest?” She put her hands on her hips. It didn't offset her dropping eyes. “C’mon Ann, please? For me?” He pleaded
For the first time, he watched his words win her over. She didn't have walls up for once, or was too exhausted to try. Her gaze softened. Her hands fell to her sides. He even saw that her mouth parted slightly in surprise. He hadn't managed to surprise her before.
“I'll rest,” she agreed. “But don't go off alone. Rest with me.” Percy nodded, though fully intending to make sure she stayed asleep instead of sleeping himself.
“Okay,” she shouldered her bag up a little higher. “Let's go mingle.” “No, we’re sleeping.” Heavens she was stubborn.
“We have to find someone who’ll give us a room first, blossom for brains,” she grabbed his hand with a stupid little smile. “If they happen to have other useful information, it is simply convenient.” He furrowed his brow. “You’re hiding something,” he said, not sure if he was right.
But she was just tired enough to prove that he was right. Her hand twitched again, and she looked down to hide from his eyes. “I’m not gonna ask you to tell me unless it’s important,” he said. After all, Percy thought, she’s not the only one hiding something. But if it brings her a little more peace, it’s worth it.
She glanced up and down again. “It's not important right now. We should focus on you right now,” she turned towards the inn. “But… I'm sorry. You don't deserve secrets.”
He didn’t say anything, just followed her.
It was dim inside. It smelled like salt and liquor, candles burning low in iron fixtures. Annabeth took a quick inventory of people at their tables, and how much money was being moved from each hand to the counter. She counted out five coins, two gold and a couple silver, and approached the bartender. “A room for the night?” She asked curtly.
She counted the coins and looked up. “You got another silver pence?”
“Of course. And another if you could bring an extra blanket up,” Annabeth held out both.
The bartender took it, and just said. “Room two. I’ll have someone bring up your blanket.
Annabeth nodded with a slight, formal smile.
As Annabeth had that exchange, Percy sat at the bar, looking around. “What’s a kid like you doing here?” asked a gruff voice. Percy turned to see a man with a scarred face and a salt and pepper beard. He looked like if his dad was a decade older and had become a pirate instead of king. “Just looking for something,” Percy said warily. The man nodded and took a sip out of an iron tankard. “Aye, everyone here is looking for something,” he said. Percy watched him, wondering what his story was.
“That your girl?” Asked the gristled man, gesturing to Annabeth, who was giving another brief but courteous nod to a waiter before taking two mugs from his tray. Her cloak swirled as she turned back to approach the counter. Percy stared, heart speeding up at the sight of how she looked golden in this light. “No,” he said softly. The drunkard laughed roughly, “Aw young love. Ask her while she stays, lad.”
Percy could feel his face heating up. “I’m actually not looking for love advice,” he said and the man laughed again. Percy continued, “I’m actually looking for information about curses. Know anything about that?”
The man stared at him for a moment before downing more alcohol. “You’ll wanna ask Ms Dare about that. She lives in a cave-house just to the north. Comes here often, has unnatural green eyes and the reddest hair you ever saw. She knows more about curses than anyone else in the world, I reckon.”
Percy felt his heart leap. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” The man waved him off, “Yer too loud, lad. Go find yer girl.”
Percy nodded, and got up to look for Annabeth. He didn’t know how he felt about calling her ‘his girl.’
She wasn't far off. She was watching from a shaded corner leaning against a wall with her mug in hand and his beside her. She exchanged a quiet nod with the stubbled local as Percy came to her. She didn't seem to have noticed the undertone in the man's comments. “That looked like he told you something useful, Blossom Brain. What did you find out?”
“There’s a curse expert nearby. Did you notice anyone with red hair?”
“Not yet. But I'll certainly be looking now,” her eyes were already darting. “Did he give you a name or a vague location?”
“Ms Dare. Lives just north of here in a cave but apparently she frequents the bar here. Green eyes, bright red hair,” he said, taking the iron cup of warm cider she’d bought for him and sipping it.”
He saw an interesting look in her eyes. It disappeared in favor of something almost hopeful. “Just north, huh?” She was already glancing towards the door. “Maybe after our drinks-” “Nope!” He said, popping the P, “You agreed to sleep. I’m holding you to that.”
“You agreed too,” she grumbled, putting her now empty cup on the counter, her face scrunching just a little. “I did,” he said simply. “Let's get to our room then.”
Annabeth 🩶
Annabeth nearly blushed the second they walked into the room. There was only one bed. She would've made the same assumption as an innkeeper, she supposed. What was wrong with her today? She could hardly keep herself from talking or making faces anymore. She was beyond lucky that Percy wasn't pushing her on any of the oddities.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said immediately, as if it was obvious.
“Oh no, you won't!” She grabbed a pillow and plopped onto the floor with an almost childish impudence. “You are going to rest in bed whether you like it or not.” He looked as if he was about to protest, but instead began to cough. It was happening more and more often, these coughing fits, and now there was always blood included in those fits. And even if he pretended otherwise, Annabeth could see him losing strength in his body. His once strong build had started to become thin and boney, no matter how much he ate.
She lost the humor of the moment. “Please.” They were saying that word a lot now. Percy seemed to have been humbled by the moment of weakness. “Okay,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she managed. She tried to blink away the feelings in her throat. “I guess it's a good thing I ordered an extra blanket huh…?” Nope. Her voice choked out a bit. “Oh, Annabeth,” he said, sitting next to her on the floor. He seemed at a loss for words, watching her with such deep sadness.
“I'm sorry,” she tried and failed again to banish the emotion in her voice. How embarrassing was this? “I've been very moody lately. Not very helpful.” “Moody? What are you talking about, Ann?” He looked like he wanted to hug her. Maybe, in Annabeth’s wildest dreams and delusions, to hold her.
She wanted that to be true. How pathetic was she to constantly be begging off hugs from a dying man? She had noticed the change in her nickname too. It was Ann now. Like he liked bringing everything he could closer and closer to the core of her.
“I'm pretty sure this is the third time I've made you deal with me crying in the past couple weeks. That's ridiculous.” “You’re–” he struggled with words for a moment before saying, “You’re allowed to be sad, Annabeth!”
“Not if it keeps me from getting things done!” She argued. “Feelings are for after. Feelings are dealt with by doing.” “Will you shut up and listen to me?!” He pleaded, “You’re allowed to be upset. I want you to know that I don’t mind that you’re human! It’s not a bad thing and I don’t know who told you that it was but I’d like to have a word with them because you’re too wonderful to keep hurting yourself like this!”
No one ever said it directly. But they had said a lot of things. Calm down. We don't have time for this right now. That's not my problem. Why can't you figure it out, since you're so smart? She had just… figured out what they were saying. “I…I…” Words were not very good for emotions. Or at least, Annabeth's words weren't used to them. “I'm not good at living in the moment when I know something bad is going to happen. You… you seem to know how to smile and enjoy yourself a little no matter what. How do you even do that?” It was a genuine question. She felt five again. So fragile. So. Fragile.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, fiddling with his own fingers, “I just wish you knew that I don’t mind if you get sad.”
Annabeth wasn't sure how to receive that. So she deflected. She knew it was deflecting, but she did it anyway. “I don't mind if you're sick.” He frowned. “What?”
“I don't mind,” she repeated, finally turning to face him. It was easier to talk about him. “If you're sick. I don't think you're any less strong, or kind, or smart, or capable, or hard-working. You're not weak. Not lazy. I'm just happy you're here.” He sighed, but he was smiling a little. “I just don’t want to worry you. We should sleep.”
“Liar,” she smirked. “There's more going on in your head than you ever let on. But we can go to sleep.”
She slept fitfully that night, but it was still a better rest than she had gotten in a while. When she woke up, though, she was lying in the bed and Percy was awake, fastening his belt.
“Excuse me,” she sat up indignantly. “When did- I don't remember- unless you moved me. But I didn't even wake up. I'm sorry, what manner of sorcery is this?!” He just grinned at her cheekily as he slid his sword into the sheath on his belt.
“Oh, and now you're going to do it again because that's the best I've slept in a while. You are positively the worst.” He just continued to smile at her, which was infuriating because it was stupidly attractive. “We don’t have all day to debate,” Percy said simply, “We have to find that curse expert!”
“We'd already been out there if you hadn't’ve been lettin’ me sleep in ‘tilla third crow calls!” She paused in her rush of putting on her own boots. Of course she would let this slip today. Percy looked at her with a funny expression. “Where’d that come from?” He said, a laugh creeping into his voice. A good night's sleep had done him good, but his hands still shook.
“Nun-your-” She cleared her throat, her voice vaguely improving. “Oh, come on.” “No, no, now you have to tell me why you’ve always had an accent and I’ve never heard it before!” He said, crossing his arms, eyes sparkling. It had been a good few months since she’d seen him in this good of a mood. What was going on?
She forced her voice out of its native tongue. It was hard when he was looking like he could listen to it all day. If he asked, she would go into it again. What was wrong with her? She forced herself crisp again, like ironing a shirt collar. “Well, knights are usually raised in court, and half of politics is your voice. Speech. Impressions. Rural Alexandria wasn't going to cut it.” Percy looked a little surprised. “You’re from the Kingdom of Light?” He asked, as if he could have never guessed. As if she didn’t look like every single girl from the kingdom.
She sighed and pulled on a long tunic over her bedshirt, muttering, “Might'n be givin’ you my birth papers as well. Oh shoot.” When she pulled the shirt over her head (her hair definitely messy now), Percy was smiling like an idiot. He didn’t make any other comment on her origins or voice, just said, “We should get going.”
Percy asked around the few shops and buildings built into the cliffs and was actually able to find a more exact route to the home of the supposed curse expert. They sailed into the afternoon, the sun lowering in the sky when they finally came to what should be Ms Dare’s home. Several other caves around it seemed to be occupied, cloth hung on the entrances, or even wooden panels that had doors set in the middle. Steps were carved into the rock, ascending from multiple small docks with boats.
“Impressive,” Annabeth looked at the building with approval. “It's very creative. Do you think she likes surprise guests?” “She’ll have to deal with us either way,” Percy said, hopping onto one of the docks and tying their boat to it. He held out a hand to help Annabeth onto the dock.
“Gentleman,” she teased as she took his hand. Yeah, she would get every answer she could. When they had walked up what felt like a million steps, Percy knocked on the dark wooden door of what was supposed to be Ms Dare’s home. The person who answered wasn’t at all what Annabeth had expected. Not some kind of witch, not old or even middle aged. In reality, it was a young woman, probably around their age. A beautiful young woman, with eyes that felt as if they could look right through you.
Annabeth looked to Percy, not sure why she cared so much about what he thought of that. Percy smiled politely and asked, “Do you happen to be Ms Dare?” The woman’s eyes scanned him up and down, “Who’s asking?” She asked, with a voice that fell on Annabeth’s ears like honey. “We’re looking for an expert in curses and were told you might be able to help,” Percy responded. “Curses?” Ms Dare said, still staring at Percy in a way Annabeth didn’t like, “Sure, I can tell you about curses. Come in,” she said, glancing at Annabeth.
She wasn't going to stay outside, even if this made Dare uncomfortable. The red headed woman led them into an offshoot of the cave, a smaller room with a collection of odd carpets covering the floor and several mismatched armchairs. In the middle of the room was a low table, which had a steaming pot of tea, as if she had been expecting them.
“Tea?” She offered, sitting down in a blue chair. “Sure,” Percy said, still smiling warmly, watching the woman pour a cup. He sat and gestured that Annabeth should do the same. She did so reluctantly.
Annabeth didn't like how readily Percy replied. She didn't like how carefully Ms. Dare was watching his movements. She didn't like this at all. “Percy, you should be the one to explain,” Annabeth suggested, not taking her eyes off of the woman. Percy nodded and said, “My name is Perseus. This is my companion and good friend Annabeth. We need help in breaking a life threatening curse,” he said, summarizing quickly. Annabeth liked the warm smile he gave her on “friend.” Ms Dare nodded, responding quickly as she handed Percy his tea, “You can call me Rachel. Could you give me more details about this curse?”
Percy began to explain, even reciting the curse itself to her. He even admitted his own symptoms. Coughing up blood, trances, weakness. Rachel leaned towards him, legs crossed and chin resting on her hand. “That sounds awful, Percy,” she sympathized, “Do you think you could repeat it again? The words in the curse?”
She kept watching him as he said it again. It was probably nothing. Or not. She was overthinking this. She wasn't going to stop though. “Twenty fifth birthday…” Rachel mused, tapping her fingers on her own cup, “When is that? How much time do you have to break this curse? It sounds like it’s in a late stage.”
Percy went pale and swallowed. Why didn’t he say it? It was then that Annabeth realized she didn’t know. She didn’t know when it would happen. But he was twenty four. He had been twenty four as long as she had known him.
“Percy?” She hated that it came out in a whimper. “…Three days,” he admitted quietly, “I have three days to figure this out.”
That was it. Nothing. Nothing could be done. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. There was no point trying. She was frozen. Dead. Death. Dying. It was everywhere. Rachel and Percy kept talking as if Annabeth wasn’t falling apart right in front of them. He hadn't told her. She hadn't even thought to ask. What was wrong with her? How was the world still turning? How was anyone still breathing? What was wrong with the world?
“So it says you’ll be saved by a storm?” Annabeth heard Rachel say through her haze of pain. Yes. Fixing it. There had to be a way. “Have you considered the storm temple?” “What?” Percy questioned. “It’s a ruin in the more dangerous part of this pass. It’s what this place is named after. I think you’ll find your cure there.”
She couldn't even speak. She couldn't. There was a weight in her bones that was crushing her lungs. She heard them finish speaking indistinctly. Percy asked for directions. Rachel gave them to him. Annabeth couldn't breathe. Just couldn't.
Percy smiled widely, a foolish hope filling his eyes. He looked at Annabeth, but then his face fell. “Annabeth?”
He said goodbye to Rachel, and then waited for Annabeth by the door. She followed him out numbly. He pulled her onto a side street before their dock with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? What’s going—“
Emotion finally came roaring back into her. “What do you think?!” She shouted. She was glad that there was no one near the cave to hear her. Or maybe she wouldn't have cared. “We have three days. How in the world are we going to- going to… You really didn't tell me? What am I supposed to do? What am I- am I…” That was it. She broke down sobbing. “I've told you what it's going to do to me. Why did you think hiding it would help? And I can't do this like this. I can't lose you. I'm not ever going to be ready, but now I might have to say goodbye in just a few days?”
“But you won’t! We can fix it! It- it’ll be okay, Annabeth. I just…I’m tired of being the reason for your stress. You deserve to be happier than this.”
“Well, apparently someone has to worry about this. We wasted a whole month just planning at the palace. I want you to be happy, and if you don't have time to be, I want to give you what I can. You deserve that. But you… you…” She realized that he had said something. We can fix it. “You said- you think-”
“Weren’t you listening?” He asked, nonplussed, “Rachel told us where to find the cure.”
The storm. The cure. Fix it. Survive. She felt more like herself than she had in weeks. “The temple. She said it wouldn't be easy. Do we have enough supplies?” Percy considered for a moment then said, “We should probably stock up.”
“Okay. How much money do we have?” Annabeth asked. Percy just stared at her blankly. “Just checking,” she mumbled. “Um, should we get any gear for climbing? She said they were ruins.” Percy shook his head. “It’s an ancient temple, it’s still somewhat structurally sound…I hope. We can figure it out as we go,” he said with his silly, lopsided, caring smile. The smile Annabeth would do anything to protect.
Percy 🩵
The journey to the temple was longer than he expected. Maneuvering through the narrow rock walls was slow and tedious, and it took them at least half a day to get there. He could tell Annabeth was anxious to get there faster, but Percy just wanted to get there safely. If this was the lead he hoped it was, it would be worth it.
Annabeth was “triple checking” each rope at least five times. Eyeing the sails. In quiet moments he found his eyes tracing their familiar path back to her. The worry lines on her face he wished to smooth with gentle fingers, worried eyes he longed to kiss closed. How pathetic was he?
The temple at last loomed out of the mist that had gathered. Percy stared at them, his mouth falling open. A towering structure of crumbling blueish stone, algae and moss covering the base as the seawater lapped against the foundation.
“You're right about it,” Annabeth said softly, as if her words might fall too heavily on the walls and crumble them. “Walls are standing tall enough. We don't have to worry about it imploding on us,” she winked. “Unless you cough too hard.” She had been trying to manage her despair with humor. It was hard to watch. He humored her and smiled weakly, barely holding himself up. Looking back at the temple, he sighed.
“I suppose there’s no point putting it off,” he said, looking at Annabeth. He almost wanted her to tell him to wait. To stop.
“There never is,” she mumbled. He could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes as they bobbed into the shadow of the ruins. He took a rope and tied it to a jagged stone with a tough knot. Hoping onto the ruins, he felt his stomach lurch and stumbled into the wall of rough rock.
“Whoa!” Annabeth's hands shot out to steady him, resting on his back and waist. “Percy. Breathe. That's not breathing, try again. Breathe. For me.” Percy tried to gulp down air, but the familiar taste of blood was in his mouth again. His chest was tight, he couldn’t breathe.
“Percy, Percy…” her hand raised a little bit to his lungs. She turned him towards her and put her other hand on his heart. “Breathe with your heart. In, two, three,” She looked him deep in the eyes, clearly forcing herself to be still and calm to help him. “Out, two, three. Breathe…please…” Percy focused as hard as he could on the motion, the feeling of his breath and the feeling of her hand. Slowly, he felt air return to his lungs. “Sorry,” he coughed, “That was weird.”
“Liar,” She murmured. She hadn't taken her hands away. “You probably just haven't told me about that yet. And I thought we agreed that you were done with the ‘s’ word.” He smiled at her, unable to resist himself. She tried to be so strong.
“Fine, but you have to go first into the temple if that’s the case. You won’t hear me say sorry if you get eaten by a kraken,” he joked weakly.
“He'll take an appetizer first, fish fry,” She teased back, clearly strained. “You're lucky that there's always a bigger fish. I doubt krakens know how to handle a woman.” She pulled out his sword from his belt and put it in his hands. “Don't drop this,” she instructed. Then she hoisted her own sword and entered the mouth of the temple. After a moment of silence, Percy looked in after her. “Any sea monsters?” He called.
“Well, I haven't checked the closet yet,” her voice rang out with irony, but there was a friendly smile on her face when she reached out a hand to him. “But I think we're safe.” Percy followed her in, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a cavernous room with what looked like three stone doors and two different colored tiles on the floor. What seemed to be glass connected the five fixtures to a stone pillar with a wide, flat top. Percy approached it, starting to make out engravings on the pillars top.
“Strange,” Annabeth mumbled, her gray eyes drinking in the room the same way a storm cloud drank the air. Percy ran his fingers across the inscriptions on the stone. “Annabeth,” he said, brow furrowed, “Do you happen to know anything about old common?”
“Of course,” he watched her face match his as she hurried over. “Oh. Oh my.” “What?” He asked turning to her, her own eyes transfixed on the carving, “You can read it?”
“‘Curse unbound,’” Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder and turned to him with a grin he hadn't seen in months. “‘Storm.’ That's us!” She hadn't said, “That's you!” She'd said, “That's us!” Like they were both cursed. Weak. Hurting. In it all together. “Which door first?” She asked. Her smile made him almost giddy. “But Annabeth,” he said with a laugh, not being able to help a smile at her bright eyes in the darkness, “Aren’t you gonna read it to me? What about a storm and a curse?”
She blushed, barely visible in the darkness. “I didn't already?” Sometimes she seemed as absent-minded as he did. It was adorable. Because it never meant she was behind, it meant she was three miles ahead and hardly had time to call out, “Goodbye!”
She started shakily, “Those who wish a curse unbound
a vengeance and a penance paid,” she was clearly thinking of his father. Percy was too. “Three trials are found:
Truth, for those who feel they know
Strength, for those feel weak
Faith, for those whose true colors must show
Feel the end
Feel the storm
Life, mend.
“See?” She laughed. “Three doors. Three trials. There's only these three rooms and you'll live! We'll leave. The entire world and it gets to have you in it!” Percy knew that Annabeth cared. He had seen it a million times, even as she guarded herself with tall walls and stony expressions. But seeing her this excited about anything was…strange? Exhilarating? Wonderful? He couldn’t describe it.
“Why not the trial of truth first then?” He suggested, “It’s the first on the list.”
“Truth before change,” she agreed with a clever smile. “Alright. You need to let me keep going first though. I'm still your knight.” “Whatever you say, Lady Ann,” he teased, heart lifted with the first real hope he’d had in months, “The doors have inscriptions on them too,” he observed, “Do they match the carving here?”
She… blushed at his nickname? She turned too quickly to the door for him to tell. “Yes,” she said. “Do we see anything else that might be helpful in there?”
Percy clutched the hilt of his sword and approached the door. “Is this the truth door?” He asked.
“Yes. I guess there's nothing to do but go in," she reached for the doorknob. “Right?” Her hand was shaking a little. Was she as scared as him? Would they fail? “Only one way to find out,” he supposed, putting his shoulder against the door and beginning to push. It began, surely but steadily to open.
Annabeth 🩶
She was an absolute fool. Believing. Hoping. But here she was. Mind open. Heart open. Doors open. She hadn't dared to think of anything past today until now. Of a goal after saving him. It had made her realize why she wanted to save him. It wasn't for her job. It wasn't for duty. It was for him. For their friendship. Heaven forbid, it was because she loved him. She loved him. And of course she had to realize it now, when anything could go wrong.
But it could also go right.
The room itself was small, almost cramped. Another pillar with an inscription stood in the middle. The inscription was interrupted in the middle by a raised circle. It was dark and damp and Annabeth could smell the sea salt that encrusted the walls and the moss that thrived in the humidity.
What a place for the prince of the sea. They moved forward together, eyes searching the surface. More old common. “‘Breathe freely when the truth is revealed.’ What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Percy murmured, running his hand across the carving, his face cast into shadow. His eyes looked almost black. When his hand glanced across the circular shape, it sank into the pillar with the sound of grinding stone. “What the-” Percy began, but was interrupted by a much louder grinding sound. Then the walls began to close in, slowly but surely, and the door had shut suddenly behind them. “Annabeth?” Percy looked at her, as if she could fix it. She said a rather unladylike word as the darkness set in. Whatever was coming, they wouldn't see it. She grabbed Percy's hand. She had to at least know where he was. “You there?”
“I’m here,” came his voice, slightly panicked, “How are we supposed to get out of here?! Did we walk into a death trap!?”
It was so dark. She didn't even know where the walls were. “Go to the walls. See where they are. And then… We could climb them. They might not reach the ceiling.” She was shocked by how clearly she was thinking. “They looked like they had some purchase, right?”
Percy’s hand slipped out of hers, away into the darkness.
No more thinking clearly. He had already done that, so many times. And he was going towards greater darkness. She tried to force herself to snap out of it, they would both die right now if she didn't, but for some reason his prophesied death scared her far more than this one. “Keep talking,” she choked out, stumbling the other way. Away from him. Then louder. “Keep talking. What's on your wall?” Not why she wanted to hear him, but close enough.
“Nothing remarkable,” he said, probably only a few feet away. It felt like miles. “It said something about revealing the truth. What could that mean?”
“Something’s hidden. Or- or a trick. A secret, a lie, that we have to fix or find or reveal. A loose brick? A hidden light or door?” Percy didn’t speak for a moment. A heart racing moment as the walls closed in closer and closer. “What if there are secrets or truths about ourselves?” He asked quietly, barely audible above the noise of the room, like he was thinking out loud.
Annabeth knew that. She hadn't told him anything, ever. “Like what?” She mumbled. What she meant, and what she knew he knew she meant, was “What do you want to know?” “What haven’t you told me?” He asked, voice coming closer as the walls closed further.
“I'm a literal bastard.”
“What?” Percy panted, as if he was trying to hold the walls back, “Ann, we don’t have time for this! Just tell me!”
“No, I am a literal bastard! Queen Athena, she's my mother. She and my father had an affair. She's never owned up to me. My father was forced to raise me, to keep me, but he didn't want to. And I didn't want to stay. I wanted to prove it. I can't be a queen? Then I'm a soldier. Blood matters? Then I'll shed it. I became a knight in all but name. And then I ran. For all my talk of fighting, I flew. Right to your palace. I remembered seeing your mother once. I thought she was exactly what a queen and a mother should be.”
A hand landed on her shoulder, warm but shaking, “You’re a princess?” Annabeth could feel the stone pressing too close on both sides, Percy right next to her. He stayed calm anyways, for her.
“I'm a knight. Your knight. I am not my mother's daughter, she made that clear enough.” Light burst through the darkness at her confession, and the grinding of the moving walls stopped. The truth had been released, and they could breathe again.
“Is that…is that it?” Asked Percy, as if she would know. The answer came from the temple itself. The door swung open by its own volition.
Annabeth gasped in the free air. He hadn't removed his hand. They were almost there. They would save him. “Yes, Percy. I think that's it.”
Percy 🩵
Walking out of that room into the dim light felt like walking out of an arena having defeated an unbeatable power. He was alive, she was safe, they had made it through the first trial. But when he looked outside, the hope in his gut withered. It was night.
Night?
Hadn’t it just been noon?
“Annabeth, are you…are you seeing this too?”
She cursed again, and it was unfair that it was in her accent again. “That is horrifying. We have to move quickly. The next door: strength. We can expect another trap, I think. And the strength likely won't be about dead lifting.” He looked at her for a moment. The illegitimate princess of the kingdom of light. A knight. She had called herself his knight. “Annabeth, we should talk for a second, rest-”
“There's no time!” She breathed in heavily after the outburst, avoiding his eyes and clutching her sword. “I can't risk it.” Percy watched her. Annabeth didn’t deserve this task. Sometimes he wondered why she had come.
“Fine. Trial of strength, it is.”
She opened the heavy stone door, and they went in. There was another column. Annabeth went to read it immediately. “Strength of body is nothing without strength of mind.” “Strength of the mind?” He walked over to her, looking at the inscription as if he would suddenly be able to read old common.
Strength of body, strength of mind. He considered it, but jumped when he heard the door swing shut. No need to check if it would open. “We really should have propped that open,” he sighed.
“With what? A sword?” She gave him a tired smirk. “At least we can see this time.” Before she finished her sentence, a hissing started to fill the room. Percy’s eyes darted around the room, looking for snakes. He was really starting to hate any sound that came from this place.
“Hold your breath!” Annabeth shouted. “Only breathe through your shirt. I think it's gas.” Of course, the moment it was important to not breathe, Percy began to cough. Uncontrollably, blood spattering onto his chin and the hand he held up to his mouth. The familiar taste of copper filled his mouth as an unfamiliar scent filled his nose. Annabeth dropped her sword and ran up to him, putting her hand to his mouth as well, not caring about the blood as she pulled his collar up to cover it all.
“Just hold it here, Percy. Please. Just get through it. We can do this.”
The scent filled his brain, made the world muddled like smeared paint. He looked at Annabeth, trying to find comfort. Instead he found anger. Anger? Why was he angry? She…she had done this, right? That’s why he was upset. She had cursed him, was trying to kill him. He clutched the hilt of his sword, backing away, teeth clenched. “Get away,” he snarled at the witch in front of him.
She jumped back, eyes confused (how dare she be confused? She knew what she'd done) but her hands still reached out towards him. She was going to attack. Magic, again? No way. He drew his sword and pointed it at her chest. He could barely stand, the world was so fuzzy. Percy wanted this witch to feel the pain and fear he did every time he breathed.
“Percy?” she whimpered. He shook the noise of it from his ears. Manipulation, of course. He had to be strong. That’s why he was here, right? To be stronger than her. He lunged towards her with his sword, snarling.
“Percy!” She screamed, sounding heartbroken, but she slid to the ground for her sword and back up in a second. “Why?” “You’re trying to kill me!” He screamed, blind with rage.
Suddenly, a steely gleam entered her eyes. The tears stopped. Her eyes found the room and took it in. Yes, finally. Here was the clever witch. He lunged once more, determined to plunge his sword straight into her heart. Clearly the only way to break the curse. She slammed her sword into his and let his point slide across her blade as she twirled (an absurdly graceful movement in a duel). Her blade threw his off like a leaf does dewdrops and her hair flared. “You've never fought me before, Percy. We never fight. But don't think I won't fight back.”
“You bewitched me!” He yelled, trying to jab his blade into her throat, “You made me sick, made me think and feel things that- that were never real! I can see it now!”
She caught his blade again and forced the range close with a shove. She was just inches from him now, her pulse visible in her throat. “When? How? What did I trick you into thinking or feeling? When did we meet? When did I curse you? Why would I do that? It doesn't make sense, Percy. What is real? What can you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears that wouldn't go. It got louder and louder and his ears were bleeding and he couldn’t breathe and he needed to kill her to make it stop.
“Get out of my head!” He screamed, dropping his sword and going for her throat with his hands. He actually got them on, and slammed her against the wall. She didn't even have the manners to panic, she just lifted an arm and spun, using the leverage to pin his hands under her arms. Then she threw her entire weight back, throwing them both to the ground. She gained her feet first and put her entire weight on his sickened arms. “You’ve never gotten me to shut up, Percy. Now think. When did we meet?”
“I can’t-” he gritted his teeth and pushed against her, “I can’t remember, I don’t care! I want you dead!”
She drew a sharp breath. “No you don't. I know you don't. Please, just-” He threw her off, picking up his sword again. Standing up made him dizzy, the ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop.
“Stop it!” Percy screamed, clutching his bleeding ears, “Make it stop!!”
“I promised I would!” She screamed back. But then her voice softened to nearly a whisper. “You remember that.” She had come over as she had spoken, and now she kicked their swords aside and put her hands on top of his. Then they fell to his back and she hugged him. “I promised it the first time I hugged you. I walked in on you in an episode in your room, remember? I was joking about your dad at breakfast, of all things. And you were crying. And you thought I was mad. I told you that was wrong. And I promised myself that day that you would never think I hated you again. I could never hate you.”
Percy could barely hear her through the ringing in his ears, but he felt his breath leave him. His vision cleared and the smell left his brain. He hadn’t even realised it was there.
Annabeth?
Annabeth.
His Annabeth.
What had…what happened?
He went limp in her arms.
“My prince,” she murmured, holding him on the floor. One hand was gently cupping his cheek. Her neck was red where he had choked her. “My best friend. My only friend. Breathe. I think it's gone. My Percy…” He felt tears well up in his eyes as he realised what he’d done. What he’d done to the only one who’d ever bothered to care this much. “Annabeth,” he whispered, a supplication for her love, her mercy. It was all he could say, his prayer to the universe.
“Oh, Percy… I know. It's okay. It's okay.” “I hurt you…” He couldn’t look her in the eyes, couldn’t face what he had just tried to do. She drew his face back up and rested her forehead on his with closed eyes and a soft smile. He could feel her tears. “No. You fix me.”
They stayed like that for a quiet moment. She somehow always smelled like peach blossoms. But now it was mixed with seasalt, like a part of him was clinging to her. “Do you think we did it?” He rasped at last.
She glanced at the still closed door. “Do you remember how I had to admit I was still hiding myself last challenge?” He nodded, sitting up. “Then I want you to try something: forgive yourself. You overcame anger. You always do that though. You should be furious at what you have had to suffer, but you are kind anyway. But you aren't forgiving or kind to yourself. That is hard for me to watch, and I think that it is the only strength you have ever lacked.”
“I won’t even try to come up with a counter theory for that, Ann,” he rasped, standing and offering his hand.
She took it with an adoring glow in her eyes, but it was mischievous too. “My ego likes that. But you still haven't said it. You're human. And you're still perfect.”
He laughed dryly, “I am far from perfect,” he said. Looking at the door, he wondered if she was right. Could he release all the guilt? The anger and the resentment? He had always been bad at the whole forgive and forget thing. He swallowed. “I want to be more than this. I want to be more than my anger. My past. I want to live because I have more to feel than that rage.”
It was as if he had said a password. The stone door swung open
Annabeth 🩶
She wanted to hold him again. She wanted to rest her head on his until all her love for him became something he knew as well as his name. What were these trials and survival for if he didn't end them prepared to live happily? They came out, and her heart panicked as she realized that it was morning light stabbing her eyes. Only one day.
But they could do this. Right? He would say that they could. He would always say that because he was Percy Jackson. A man who loved the ocean and loved flowers. Percy stared out at the morning light and swallowed. He seemed to feel Annabeth’s same panic.
“Hey,” she tried to help with a hand on his shoulder. “One more room. What are you going to do first, as a free man?” He looked at her, his eyes filled with thought. “That’s a secret,” he teased after a silent moment, “You’ll have to save me first.” “Suspense. You’ve gotten better with your words, my prince.” “I’ve had a good teacher.
They turned to the last door. “Faith,” Annabeth said. “The first trial was mine. The second was yours. I think it’s safe to say that we’ll face this one together. Heaven knows what having faith is going to mean, though. But all we can do is go, isn’t it?” She reached out with a hesitant hand. Would he… would he take it? The idea of a future where she would always be there for him? Or would he still think he had to prove that he wasn’t scared or hurting? Was she putting too much weight into one touch?
His hand slipped into hers like the tide coming in. “I guess so, wise girl,” he murmured absently.
Another nickname. It was like he was finding pieces of her in a scavenger hunt and collecting them to keep forever. Before she even quite realized what she was saying, Annabeth murmured back, “I like that one, Blossom brain.” She blushed and avoided his eyes. But she knew he wouldn't judge her. She was just shocked that she was pouring so much importance into him just before she might lose him. She hadn’t done anything so dangerous in a long time. She started walking towards the door, still trying not to think too hard about the look on his face at her last comment. She could feel his hand shaking in hers. He felt cold.
The door was heavier, but together they managed to open it. Yet another podium stood before them in the center of a dark stone room. Annabeth heard Percy’s breath shaking with hers as she read the last inscription.
“Faith means nothing if you don’t mean it.” She cleared her throat. “This is going to be bad. Explain to me how we ended up being taught how to communicate by a literally ancient ruin.”
It was almost comical how, when she asked this satirically, Percy began to cough again. To sway and fall to the floor. “No. No, no, no, we are going to do this. Look at me right now, Percy,” She took his face in her hands as gently as she could. “Look at me and breathe.”
Percy shook and clutched as his face, blood bubbling from his lips as cries of pain tore from his throat, ripping at his abdomen with his fingernails. It was a horrifying reminder of how little time they had, how fast things were about to change. Tears streamed down Annabeth’s face silently, and she pulled him into a hug once more. She hated how much of her was covered in his blood now. His death was all around her, choking and coating her – it itched and stung like dried tears. But she stayed still, silent, calm. She rubbed his back and waited for him to breathe.
It took a few agonizing, eternal minutes, but his breathing steadied. The blood stopped and the shaking lessened, though Annabeth noticed it never did stop. Hadn’t in a long time. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I think- did I fall over? What happened?”
“It got worse,” Annabeth answered almost numbly as she realized that he didn’t even know anymore. It had to stop. That was all there was to it. It had to stop or else she would die too. That was the whole mess she hid behind it. “We should start trying to figure this one out. Look around.”
They did. That was when Annabeth saw something. “Well that’s just rude,” she tried to laugh. “There’s another inscription on the other side of the room, look.” She couldn’t read it from here. “It doesn’t fit the pattern, does it?” She started to walk to it, and that was when her foot got caught. She looked down and saw that one of the tiles had dislodged under her step. She shrugged and kept going. That was a mistake. The floor fell out from under her. Funnily enough, she couldn’t even scream. It was silent, so she was able to hear the door slam shut from above. What a strange moment, to hang in the air as she fell just a few short feet. It was roaring wind. It was slamming doors. It was silent. She reached her hand up to the sky. No matter what else they would say about her death, Annabeth Chase would be remembered for still looking up – for never looking down. This was going to be it. No nets to catch her. No stars to see. Just lights going down at the grand finale. Endings were inevitable.
Percy’s hand caught around hers at what felt like the last possible moment. It ripped at her arm and it almost felt like her shoulder had dislocated. For the first time, she cried out in pain. Looking up at Percy magnified that pain into something far too much to bear. Percy, her Percy, looked like he could barely breathe. His eyes were wide with terror but his face was pale and she could feel his grip failing. He tried to pull her up, but it was to no avail. She hadn’t realised just how much strength he had lost until now. Percy couldn’t even lift her an inch.
She tried to find a purchase. Her nails scraped on a sheer rock face, making a sound like the scattering of spider legs. The only sound other than her and Percy’s labored breathing was that of her second greatest fear. She froze. Spiders. She had always hated them, but they weren’t even her first fear anymore. Losing Percy was. Her boots slid on the smooth marble. She couldn’t move. She was hanging in the web. She had jumped into it like a fool. A well-meaning fool. A brave one. She could even justify it with love. But love was foolish when it was hopeless. Why did she always keep trying?
Percy tried to pull her up again. That was why.
“Percy,” She choked out, embarrassed by the terror in her voice. “I’ve had something of a thought. What if Faith isn’t a trait, but an action? What if… what if you let me go?” “What?!” Percy panted, trying to adjust his weak grip with a pained expression, “No!”
“If this is a trick, I’ll be fine. If not, you’re free to go. I believe that you can make it without me. I’ve played my part. Show’s over, Percy. It’ll be okay.” “I’m not- I can’t- Annabeth, I need you!” He almost pleaded, reaching down to grab her wrist with his other hand and slipping a little over the edge.
She stared up at him. “You’re never going to leave me,” she realized, breathless. “You can… You wouldn’t…?” “Why would you think I would?” He half cried, his voice breaking, “What have I ever done to make you think that I would?!”
“You haven’t!” Annabeth wanted to hold his cracking voice together. “I’m just scared, Percy!” She felt like she was five years old. “But I-” She gazed into those desperate ocean eyes. “I- I believe you. I believe in you.” “About time,” he said, voice wobbly, “Because I’ve always believed in you, Ann. But now you have to grab my hands and use them to help you walk back up the wall!”
She saw something in his eyes: belief. He knew he could do it. She grabbed his other hand and held on as hard as she could. “I’m all yours.” She leaned back, her pulse shooting up as she did. One foot hit the wall. She brought up the other. One. Percy grunted at the strain he was putting on his arms. It hurt to hear it. But she realized that it would hurt him more if she didn’t try. Then the other. One. Then the other. She crested the top and fell onto the floor, shaking with the adrenaline. That close. So close. Too close. His arms closed around her before she could catch her breath, as if he alone could keep her from falling back in. From jumping. Annabeth was sure that he could. He was the only thing that ever stopped her.
“You did it,” She laughed a little. “I knew you could. My ‘sick’ prince, you’re my knight now.”
Annabeth looked over Percy’s shoulder. The door was open. It was a moment before she realized.
“Percy,” she scrambled to her feet. “It’s open. The door. We did it. Percy, we did it! Come on, outside. We have to see!”
What a pity that she forgot to read the final inscription:
When the clock strikes midnight on the 25th birthday of the son of the sea, he shall be drowned in his own blood. Pain consume him, a punishment for your crimes. Pain possess him, with no sight of light. Let him drown, unless these debts be paid by his sanity. May pain eat him alive and those he love watch. May he drown, saved only by a storm.
Percy 🩵
Percy followed her out into the darkness of night, his arms aching and burning. He could barely breathe.
“How do we even check?” Annabeth turned to him. Then he saw her face shatter, her eyes take him in, heard her voice crack with what he felt terrible for hoping was her heart. “Percy?”
The air left his body and he stumbled forward into some kind of darkness. A complete and utter darkness he couldn’t explain. “Annabeth?” He gasped, a sweet scent filling his lungs. Not like the sickly smell in the trial of strength. It enticed him, reminded him of summer days spent in gardens.
She materialised out of the darkness. His Knight, his dearest friend. Annabeth Chase, the only source of light in the darkness. “Annabeth?” He whispered again. “Percy,” she said, her voice far off, her lips in a peaceful smile. She looked different. A white dress swirled around her bare feet, her hair down, much longer than he had ever noticed. She looked radiant, all her jagged edges softened with peace.
“Percy,” she repeated, a slight echo to her voice. She held out her arms and Percy stumbled into them. Her hands were freezing. “Shhhh, Percy. It's okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you,” she soothed, “It’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Annabeth,” he murmured into her shoulder, as if it was the only thing he could say. What a beautiful curse, if it was true. One he would much rather be under.
“It’s time to go, love,” she said back, her voice still soft and comforting. “What?” He croaked, pulling away to look at her. Had her eyes always been that blue? Of course…of course they had. Annabeth had blue eyes, what was he thinking?
“It’s time to go,” she urged, “We have to go now.” He found himself nodding, staring at her too blue eyes. “You called me love,” he whispered, “You…that’s not what you call me.” “Of course it is,” she laughed airily, eyes sparkling. Then she kissed him.
And oh, it was every kind of heaven he could’ve imagined. She tasted sweet, like fresh peaches and vanilla cake. He held her face in that eternal moment. She was so cold, but he could live there in that kiss for a million years. She pulled away before he could get enough of that taste of bliss.
“We need to go,” she repeated, a little more urgently this time, “Come with me.” “Always,” he rasped, staring at her. She took his hand and began to walk towards a faint light. It grew larger and larger as they walked. It was almost the shape of the door.
“Annabeth,” he whispered, “Where are we going?” “Away,” she answered plainly, “We’re going to the perfect kind of Away. You’re going with me, right? You…you’re not leaving me, right?”
Percy started to protest, but the electric blue of her eyes entranced him again. But…that wasn’t right. Annabeth’s eyes were grey, like a stormcloud. And her hair wasn’t gold. She wasn’t that pale, she hadn’t been wearing a dress. She had been wearing armor. She wasn’t soft edges and vanilla cake. She didn’t love him like that.
His heart sank.
“You’re not Annabeth,” he said, letting go of her hand. “Of course I am!” She cried, and it took everything in Percy not to backtrack. “You’re not,” he insisted. She looked at him with an unnatural rage. She began to scream, and it was like his ears were being ripped off. It was so unhuman, so wrong. It filled his mouth once more with the coppery taste of blood, drowning him. The scream filled him and he stumbled back, covering his ears, eyes shut tight.
Then the scream warped around him and dove down his throat. He fell backwards, head hitting the ground, the scream echoing from his own mouth, the perfect version of his knight falling to pieces as the darkness faded back into reality.
Annabeth 🩶
How was she going to survive? He fell right in front of her, but he was miles away. “Annabeth?” he had choked out. She had seen a longing in his eyes, and his hand had even reached for her. She hadn’t been able to catch him like he had caught her. She couldn’t even bring herself to be ashamed of the sob she released now. She didn’t have time to cry though. She had to get to him first. Had to, had to, had to.
But they didn’t let her. They choked the air and his body as they scrambled across the floor to the tiles before her and twisted into a roaring beast of her worst nightmare. White roses. Thorns had left golden cracks on Percy’s agonized face. Gold? To put such a heavenly color to his tortured death was her own hell. White roses. Of course this is what would be sent. She glared and pulled out her sword.
“You said!” She screamed. “You said I could keep him! Labor through your heaven forsaken trials and I would save my angel. My angel…” She started to ramble as she stared at his face. Blood. Tears. Pain. She would not let them stay. “You can’t have him! The angels want him back and death claimed him, but he’s mine. Mine! We are going to live.”
She slashed out at the beast, tearing through its leaves and petals. Thorns dug into her skin, caught at her veins. They burrowed into her with a ferocity that no flower had a right to. She bit one vine off of her arm. She would be worse than the roses thought she was too.
She slashed through layer after layer. She was glad she had thought to wear her armor into the cave, because her sleeves were torn to shreds. She could see the thorns leaving scratches on the metal though. She didn’t have much time. She tore and screamed and fought. It was a moment before she realized what she was screaming.
“Percy!”
She thrust her sword forward, driving a thousand thirsty thorns deeper into her blood. The bravest soldiers bleed. She screamed as her blade pierced the golden light. Then all was dark and quiet.
Except for Percy’s drowning gasps, in an instant turning to terrifying screams.
So everything was just dark. There was nothing left.
But she had to try.
“Percy.”
Percy 🩵
Percy’s limbs were rigid, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could only scream and scream. His fingers spasmed wildly, creating wild, unnatural shapes. His head ached, his throat and nose were full of blood.
And she was there. “Percy, please, Percy-” She was sobbing. She sounded like she was being burned alive and drowning all at once. “Give him back!” She screamed. “Give him back to me. I need him!”
He managed to drain some of the blood from his mouth, enough to whisper, “Annabeth.” His prayer.
But his voice hit his Annabeth like a cannonball. She crumpled over, crushed by helplessness, curling around him, her hand steadying his head. He heard a desperate cry escape her, something between a scream and a sob and a final breath. It was like she was dying with him. “Percy. Not now,” Her voice returned to tears.
“Not when- not when we did it. We stole away from the whole world. We conquered kingdoms by never being found-”
“Annabeth-”
“They don’t get to take you!” She gasped in air as she gathered him into her arms. “Nobody gets to have you. Not Death, not Hell, not Heaven. We’re staying together because we promised-”
“Annabeth!” He choked, “Annabeth, please…” A million things on his mind, yet they were beginning to be snuffed out like candles, his vision was blurry. “Just listen to me,” he pleaded.
She went dead silent, her gray eyes filled with tears and words. But she stayed quiet.
“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you so much, Annabeth. Please don’t forget that. Don’t forget me.”
Annabeth 🩶
Those he loves will watch.
No.
She curled in on herself, pulling him as close as she could. She prayed, but it wasn’t to any sort of god. It was to him.”You love me,” she sobbed, running a hand through his hair and holding him like a piece of driftwood in a hurricane. Her? How long? How at all? Too many questions, and no time. No time for the answer he deserved. He deserved a life where she could give him his answer every day. “You love me?”
“Have for-“ he gasped and it sounded like death itself, “- for months.”
“That’s not- that’s not fair,” she cried for the tragedy of it all. “You should have more time than this. Why would you waste everything on me? You know how stupid I am, I’m too busy hating everything to know when someone loves me. Why would you waste yourself on me?” She knew the answer, it was in his eyes. “Because you love me. Oh my Percy. Percy…” She gave up on strength and let her head rest on his and her tears pour down her cheeks. Her breath shook. “I’ll remember you forever,” Her voice broke. “They won’t ever take that away from me.”
When sea breezes blew. When the sun rose. When she cried in the middle of the night. When tears flooded like ocean tides. He would be there, holding her until she breathed again, the memory of his death choking her with white roses.
White roses. She picked one off the ground and placed it in his hand as she let her lips press against his head. Did she dare to say it? When nothing could happen? But he needed to hear it. “I love you.”
The song came from the words. From the light slowly fading from his eyes yet still shining on her. Her voice was shaky with sobs but it was all she could do. It was too late to save him.
An old Alexandrian lullaby. The only memory she had of her mothers voice outside speeches and imperial holidays.
“When the world is iced over
And there’s frost on your breath
I’ll still love you
I’m here because I love you.
When everything hurts
And there’s no room to move
I’ll still love you
I’m here because I love you
When the lights go out
And there’s nothing left
I’ll still love you
I’m here because I love you,”
The words warbled out of her pathetically, echoing in the cavernous room, the smell of roses permeating every inch. “I love you,” she whispered again, voice breaking into sobs. That song had meant nothing because her mother wasn’t ever there. But Percy was. He had rewritten that song's meaning for her, because now she knew how it felt to want to stay. And now he had gone.
Why couldn't she go with him? The door of the temple creaked open with one last ray of moonlight, as if Percy was walking out, and had turned back to wave goodbye. She broke down sobbing with the sky as it started to rain. There wasn't any sort of peace now that he was gone. White roses. She would lie here and rot with them. He would want her to live but that made her want to die. They could have had everything. He had been everything. She curled up. She heard the temple door creak again. He would be running back to her right about now, she thought. Lifting her up and putting her back together. She was too broken for everyone but him. He loved her. He had loved her. She imagined his arms hugging her one last time, murmuring her name. It made her sob. Then she realized there was more than her tears and the storm. It was not only her arms wrapped around her sobbing body.
Percy 🩵
Percy couldn’t stop shaking. He had died, he had died and she had managed to bring him back. He didn’t know how, but of course she managed. She was Annabeth Chase and he would always come back to her.
“You mean it?” He croaked, barely audible above the crashing thunder outside.
She froze. A broken plea came out of her mouth. “Percy? “Say it again,” he whispered, holding tight to her.
“I love you,” he could tell she meant about five different things. I love you. Stay. Is this real? Never leave me. I'll stay too. She burrowed in his arms. “Say it back,” she begged. Prove that it's really you.
He was alive. Even as he thought it, Percy couldn’t believe it. He just burst into tears, right there on the floor, arms tight around her. “Annabeth Chase, I love you. I love how you braid your hair because its long again and you don’t like it on your neck, I love how you’d do anything for someone you love. I love how you look at me and make me feel like the sun has risen again after an eternal night. I love you, Annabeth, I love you, I adore you, I wish for you with every breath because you saved me.” He had to cut himself off there, too scared to choke again.
“Percy,” he heard something fierce in her voice. She hugged him harder, finally relieved of the fear of breaking him if she held on too hard. “I want to see the whole world with you. You fill it with wonder, and I finally feel like I have somewhere to stay, no matter how far I go. I want to stop somewhere with you every night and watch your eyes catch the sunset like peach blossoms. I want to wake up every morning and know that you'll be right there because I love you.”
He sat up, even with so little strength, and pulled her up with him, clutching at her like a lifeline, face buried in her shoulder. “I’d go to the ends of the earth with you,” he said through his tears. He pulled back and cupped her face. Oh, his Annabeth. This impossible girl with the stormy eyes.
He drew in a sudden breath.
Because she was so close to him. She was looking at him like he was a miracle. Like she could finally touch him without passing through him. Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes. Her storm eyes. “A storm,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his eyes wrinkling up with tears once again.
He realized that her hands were framing his face. “It sounds like a fever dream,” she murmured. “But at one of your galas, I watched you dance. And I wanted to dance with you. And then I was scared that I would never get to, because I was going to lose you one way or another. You were smiling like an ocean in a pool of champagne. And you took a moment to look at me. I didn't know why. First inn we get to, I wanna dance with you where everyone can see and even though they won't know everything, I want them to know I love you.” Her hurricane eyes were spinning with dreams.
He looked at her, still in shock. “A storm,” he whispered, “‘Saved only by a storm.’ You. The storm was you.” He leaned in tentatively, trying to ask the question with his eyes.
He saw the moment her eyes answered. They looked like they couldn't believe it, like they were scared to close because then the vision would disappear. Then they believed. She closed her eyes and buried her hands in his hair. He kissed her.
And it was more bliss then that nightmare ever was. Because she was Annabeth. She was the girl of jagged edges sewn together out of spite. The girl he couldn’t help but utterly and completely adore. He pulled away after a moment and looked at her. Just looked.
“I can’t wait to dance with you.”
She just smiled and hugged him all the tighter.