Archive of Our Own

Annabeth is almost thirteen when a boy tugs on her hair, making her scalp sting and cheeks flush. She doesn’t cry at the slight pain. Nor at the laughter from the boys behind her that echoes in her ears and hurts her pride. Instead, she whirls around to see Percy Jackson. Maybe if it had been anyone else, the anger in her chest wouldn’t rise so quickly and make her judgment fuzzy.

Her next move is not a reaction. If it was, she’d have done it the moment she felt his fist in her curls. But instead, Annabeth takes a second to think. It’s only the slightest amount of time, but she’s gotten quite good at reading people. When she looks into Percy’s eyes, green and sad as they always seemed to be, Annabeth can only see instant regret. Good, she thinks, swinging her fist towards his face, hopeful it will collide with his cheek.

Her and Percy weren’t expected to take much part in the brutality of war. They had a different role to play, a different thing to give. So they hardly trained at all. Not even to protect themselves. They had personal guards for that. But Luke had shown her how to throw a proper punch. Maybe it wasn’t to leave a bruise on the boy he was supposed to protect, but Annabeth would be damned if she didn’t let him know he would never humiliate her again. She didn’t know much at such a young age, but she did know humiliation.

And when he catches her tiny wrist with his small fingers, she just gasps. She wonders where he’d learned how to do this and figured Luke may have taught him a thing or two as well. But Annabeth was smart enough to figure out that his fast reflexes were learned through instinct, not a couple of training sessions.

She wonders about him once more.

The boys from the Hermes cabin he’d been hanging around just laugh again and Annabeth feels a bit sick. She wants him to feel hurt the way she does now, wants to hurt his feelings. Maybe there was something so wrong and dark inside her for feeling that way. Maybe that’s why her father and step mother had been so quick to send her away.

“You’re mother should’ve taught you better manners,” she spits out, just wanting to see his expression change. It doesn’t. It just remains unreadable, and she feels frustrated and cruel. He lets go of her wrist, and she turns and runs to where her siblings are eating breakfast.
-
Later on, Chiron has them both sitting in the big house. She finds herself staring at the flames of the fire and watching as they lick over one another to quell the dread settling in her stomach. Annabeth just doesn’t want to see Percy’s unreadable expression. She doesn’t want to analyze his features and try to figure him out. She wants to train with her siblings and play capture the flag with the rest of the kids. She wants her father to take her home and pick her up from school everyday when she starts seventh grade. She wants her parents to love her selfishly and unconditionally with their entire beings. She wants and wants.

But all she gets is this boy sitting beside her. This boy who she can’t read.

So when Chiron asks them to explain themselves, she doesn’t speak. Annabeth just keeps her gaze stuck to the fire behind him. Someone had told Chiron about what had gone down in between them, probably Luke who had never seemed to be too far away. It was his job after all to be Percy's shadow. Annabeth didn’t think that seemed fair. Honestly, the older man was smart and strong. He’d always seemed to show compassion towards Annabeth, even though that wasn’t his job. Just the thought made a blush creep up into her cheeks.

Chiron fixes them both with an expectant look. Here he was, supposed to train heroes and shape warriors so they could be strong enough to fulfill their destinies, playing couples counselor to a child bride and groom. Perhaps this would take the same amount of effort.

It wasn’t easy to have your destinies intertwined divinely. How could they possibly understand that here and now.

“I’m sorry,” Percy finally blurts out. But his tone tells otherwise.

“Annabeth,” Chiron says, but she crosses her arms over her chest and continues to look away from them both. She shouldn’t have to accept such a lousy apology. But then again, guilt creeps into her stomach about the comment she had made about his mom. She’d been killed so suddenly. His entire life had changed so suddenly. Annabeth didn’t know what could possibly be worse; the shock or the slow buildup of her own family situation. She didn’t want to know.

“I’m sorry, too,” she says, hoping to leave sooner. But apparently Chiron doesn’t think the apology was as good as Percy’s, which she thought sucked by the way. So Annabeth turns to them annoyed. The apology had been sincere. She was so sorry. And here she was being reprimanded for it. So when she sees Chiron still looking at her expectantly, she responds snidely. “I’m sorry Percy is such a bitch,” she says, not caring that she’s cursed in front of Chiron.

“I’m literally a boy,” Percy scoffs.

“That’s sexist,” Annabeth says back, annoyed.

Percy rolls his eyes and Chiron can see this escalating quickly apparently, because he jumps in before Percy can respond. “Hey! Annabeth. you mustn’t use words such as that.” Annabeth bites her tongue hard. She isn’t old enough to curse but she’s old enough to basically be engaged apparently. And she hardly found it fair that Chiron seemed to care much more about her manners than other kids at camp. “Now you both shall try again.”

When neither of them speak up, Chiron sighs. He has a look in his eyes almost like sympathy. “Children,” he starts. “I know it has been hard these past couple of weeks. I know it must feel like you have no agency.” His words resonate with Annabeth for the first time that day, and she looks at him, listening intently with big eyes. Because she actually had felt that way, but no adult seemed to care much. It had gotten to the point that Annabeth began wondering if maybe she was the problem. She thought perhaps she had no right to complain.

“It is quite hard to force such a heavy burden on the backs of small children and even harder to carry it.” Annabeth peeks over at Percy subtly and sees he’s doing the same. “I’m not asking the two of you to be in love. You’re twelve. I’m not even asking the two of you to be best friends. But you must be partners, and you will be family.” Annabeth hopes her face isn’t as hot as it feels. “And I happen to know the both of you could use some more family.” It’s harsh and it’s true. It doesn’t mean Annabeth is ready to completely embrace their arrangement. Maybe that’s okay.

“My friends, they said you never cry,” Percy blurts out and Chiron looks pleased with the breakthrough. It’s true. She hasn’t cried in front of others in so long. She doesn’t want to give him her tears, or anyone else for that matter. She’ll have to give enough to him eventually. She’s allowed to keep this to herself. He finally looks at her directly, and she can read his expression at last. His green eyes are apologetic and there is shame shining through now. His face is flushed as he speaks. “I just wanted them to stop making fun of me, and calling us boyfriend and girlfriend,” he admits, but quickly continues. “But I know it was mean and stupid. I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry,” Percy brings himself to say, finally sincere. He looked down again and for a second she thought he might cry, which seemed impossible. Perhaps he would want to keep that for himself as well, and she finds she’d be more than okay with it. “My mother didn’t raise me to be like that.”

Annabeth knows she’s a lot more stubborn than Percy, but despite this, she also knows she has to speak. “I’m sorry, too,” she tells him, just as genuine. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to apologize, just that it was hard to express it. “I shouldn’t have said anything about your mom.” For a moment she thinks she sees something like sadness or red hot anger flash in his green eyes. He seems too young to look that scary. After a moment it’s gone, and he becomes unreadable once more. She’s left to wonder if it was directed at her or if she’d made it up all together even.

“Do you think- maybe we could just try to be friends then?” His voice is soft so she shakes the uncertainty away.

“If you ever touch my hair again, I’ll make sure to land a good punch,” she promises him, but nods at Percy’s question. Annabeth doesn’t think about it till much later, but really, this was as close as they would come to a proposal.

He nods, in clear understanding. “Partners,” he says and puts out his hand, wrapped in a fist. For a second she’s confused, before realizing he wants her to fist bump him. She mimics his form and their fists collide. He gives her a lopsided smile that makes him seem like a trouble maker. Chiron is pleased by their interaction, long forgetting Annabeth’s colorful vocabulary.

“Partners.”
-
Annabeth is thirteen years old and she sits in an empty clearing.

There are no trees nor people and Annabeth can not feel her limbs. Unable to move, she watches as the sky remains the same. Suddenly, everything is dark and she’s screaming for help. She’s screaming for her father. But of course, he is not there and he won’t be. She screams till her throat is raw and her head is pounding, and she can’t bring herself to care because the fear drowns out everything else.

Annabeth has never liked the dark.

Then she’s sitting up in bed, panting in and out ragged, deep breaths. She has to bite her lip to stop from screaming out, realizing it was only a nightmare.

Her shoulder length hair is damp from showering and it curls against her neck. Annabeth’s fingers shake slightly, and she looks around the room, almost empty. Something about it doesn’t sit right with her. Perhaps she’d grown accustomed to sleeping in the same room as so many of her half siblings. She’d liked being a year round camper, but Chiron had been insistent on the fact that Percy and Annabeth should go to school, letting them stay in an apartment in the city with supervision. When she steps out of bed, her feet are so cold against the hardwood floor, and the feeling rises to her chest.

She pushes open her door slowly, glancing across the hall to see Percy’s cracked slightly. Annabeth is cautious when she shuts her own, walking down the hall, careful to not make too much noise. But when she reaches the living room, Percy is already sitting on the ground by the tv, eating fruit loops. The room is dark, but the light of the television illuminates his face. When she notices him, she almost jumps out of her skin, already spooked from her nightmare.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, facepalming. Chiron might have a conniption if he’d know how much she’d cursed since being away. One of her teachers made her sit in the hallway for half an hour because of her mouth.

Percy just looks up, eyeing her as if it wasn’t odd that she’d walk in on him eating cereal at three in the morning on a school night. “Hey,” he mumbles with a mouth full of fruit loops. Annabeth doesn’t answer but comes to sit beside him. She’d left her room, because, laying down still, looking up at the plain walls and wondering about her father sounded like toruture. But perhaps, it was nice to not be alone while her heart beat lowered and her own mind was in utter chaos

“What are you watching?” Annabeth asks him, eyes glued to the tv before them. He shrugs his shoulders, taking another bite of his cereal. She looks at the screen where two men are fighting and just rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. “You know eating that sugary stuff before bed will give you nightmares,” Annabeth warns, raising her eyebrows at him.

“You’re so high strung,” Percy retorts and Annabeth doesn’t answer, just turns back towards the tv, letting silence fall over the room. He must find her lack of a response concerning, because he speaks before she does. “Is that what you had?” Percy asks. “A nightmare?” His tone is casual but she wonders if he’a as curious about her as she is about him.

Annabeth doesn’t dare speak out loud in fear that her voice will quake with the loneliness of the nightmare still echoing in her mind. Her expression is so sad that Percy reaches out his hand to awkwardly pat her back. She just reaches into the box of fruit loops and stuffs a handful into her mouth.

The truth was, she felt out of place sitting in this apartment, beside him and telling him of her troubles. She feels like a freak and a nuisance and a mistake. Her nails dig into her palms till they sting. This isn’t how a person was supposed to feel besides their soulmate. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that’s what they were. It must be a mistake that she could have such an important task to complete. The idea of the prophecy made her feel like an imposter in her own life and body. Why did she always feel so intense at one little inconvenience? Annabeth is drowning in her own thoughts till Percy reaches out his hand and pulls her from her own mind with just a sentence.

“I have nightmares a lot too.” Their eyes meet and Annabeth feels a weight on her chest lift. She remembers her step mother reprimanding her for the tears she would shed at night for scaring her brothers. And the way she’d learned to cope on her own, even at such a young age, biting her lip till it bled to prove she was awake some nights. “That’s how I could tell you had one. It must be a demigod thing”

Her face heats up just looking at Percy here and now, and she feels embarrassed, hoping he can’t tell her cheeks are pink in the dark. Her and Percy were becoming fast friends despite their bickering and name calling, but she’d never felt her heart pound so profusely in his presence. She couldn’t pinpoint why or what it was. Something was different. This act of kindness, of vulnerability, made it different. He was offering her something perhaps.

Annabeth always knew Percy was too closed off to be so openly kind. She hadn’t expected a show of decency to make her breathing stutter.

“What are they about?” Annabeth asks, not thinking clearly. She instantly regrets it looking at his face.

“That’s none of your business,” he tells her, voice defensive. Silence settles between them as Annabeth looks at him with wide eyes. He starts to get up, grabbing his bowl and she opens her mouth to apologize, or say anything really, just to get him to stay sitting besides her. But then he’s biting his lip to stifle his laughter. “I’m just kidding,” he says and Annabeth scowls at him. “But you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Annabeth grits out, pulling her knees to her chest.

“You have a cursing problem, you know that?” Percy points out, placing his bowl on the counter before returning back to the living room, sitting with his back against the couch. Annabeth is thankful. She’d been worried she had known the relief of having company only to be alone with her thoughts once more. That would have been more devastating than if she’d never sat with Percy at all that night. “I have nightmares about my mom,” he blurts out then. The weight of the confession nearly crushes her. Annabeth has no intention of telling him about her own. She thinks about last year when she’d practically thrown his mother’s death in his face. Guilt curls in her stomach, wrenching a confession from her throat.

“Mine are about my dad,” Annabeth admits. “Kinda.”

“Your dad?” Percy asks, no longer attempting to mask his curiosity. His question was loaded with so many others. Where was he? Who was he? Where had she come from? Then one that suddenly popped into her mind. A question of her own. Why didn’t he want you? Annabeth had felt so brave, laying on the living room couch and telling Percy about her nightmares, but now, her throat closes up with white hot shame. She doesn’t want Percy to know that not even her own father had wanted her. Then maybe he’d see why. Then maybe she’d lose her friend.

“He’s dead,” she lies, ashamed. He wasn’t dead but sometimes she wished he was. Annabeth tries to convince herself that it counted for something.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, and she can’t respond because his voice is so genuinely empathetic. She’d taken the most traumatic moment of his life and spun a tale almost identical to feel less vulnerable. But that voice is caring and she can faintly make out the look in his eyes in the dim room. She notices the specific shade of green that they are, almost like the sea, and catalogs the memory in her brain.

That night, they fall asleep in the living room, her curled up on the couch and him sitting up against it, head propped up against her leg. It’s too late to put up her walls when Annabeth realizes she may have a crush on Percy Jackson.
-
Percy’s fourteen when he speaks to a goddess for the first time.

He’s walking through the city with Luke on their way back to the apartment they stayed in during the school year; him, Luke, Annabeth, and her personal guard Thalia. She was around the same age as Luke and, honestly, scared Percy a bit. She’d been the first demigod he’d felt power matched his own. The abilities she’d had seemed inhuman. Of course that was because she got it from her father, Zeus. Their similar nature wasn’t exactly what bothered him though.

He'd been reluctant to see the older girl that day. He always felt like she’d wanted more for Annabeth, as if Percy would never be enough. She didn’t want the two of them to share a wedding or a child or a life. Maybe it wasn’t personal, but it still hurt. Mostly because he felt the same sometimes. And walking home now, the lights around him kept the city bright as the sky became dark. He’d been in detention since school ended hours ago for getting into a fight and he’d be there the entire week. He knew Thalia would fix him with a judgmental stare when he walked through the door. Only a car pulling beside them could break him from this thought process; more likely the energy that exalted from it.

And when he discovers a goddess wishes to speak to him, he should feel honored; starstruck even. But he’d never associated those words with the gods much and he wasn’t planning on starting now. Especially not when the annoyance of having to sit still for hours caused frustration to build heavy in his chest already.

Aphrodite is beautiful. She’s just as beautiful as he’d heard, with her pink tinted cheeks and long lashes. For a second she looks a bit like Annabeth, but a few years older, with her blonde curls, tinged golden in the light. His face heats at the thought, and when he looks up and sees the woman’s small smile, he knows she can tell what he’s thinking.

Percy feels more intimidated then he would’ve expected. He hated the gods since his mother died. And when everyone around him, including Annabeth, would treat the feeling like a crime, he’d held the rage inside. Besides Luke of course, who seemed to encourage it. Since that night, anger had taken permanent residence inside his chest. The gods had let his mother die. They’d allowed a beast to tear her apart in front of her son, turning him into a killer at the ripe age of twelve. When the rage clouded his vision and something instinctual rose in his chest. He’d killed the minotaur then, too late and with no help, and in return the gods had asked him to make Annabeth a mother somewhere down the line.

And the thought always made it hard to look her in the eye.

But now this product of Olympus was sitting before him, undeniably powerful and beautiful.

“I can see it now,” she tells him eventually, moving a hand to stroke his cheek. And he lets her without a fight. Something about her is so alluring. The passion in her eyes reminds him of Annabeth’s.“Such a beautiful love story, yet tragic. But isn’t that what makes it so beautiful.” Of course the two of them had piqued her curiosity. All the gods seemed too involved in their lives, even from a distance. So Percy isn’t shocked to know the goddess of love wants involvement in their prophecy. They seemed to be the only ones unable to hear the specific lines of it.

He isn’t supposed to talk back to gods, he knows that. He isn’t supposed to question their actions and use their names in vain. He isn’t supposed to speak of them harshly or criticize their motivation. But his stomach turns at the word tragic. He’s sure he’s had enough tragedy in his short life. He didn’t need anything more. Percy couldn’t handle it.

He’d never get to be a normal child, and Percy knew he most likely wouldn’t get the peace he deserved. Not when every night, nightmares filled his head and left him staring at the ceiling all hours of the night. Watching Annabeth die over and over. He found it odd; that that’s what would leave his hands shaking as the sun rose. Maybe there is something divine connecting them after all.

“I don’t agree,” he blurts out, finding his voice finally. There was nothing beautiful or poetic about tragedy and the pain that lingers afterwards. The only people who believed that were those untouched by it. Annabeth had suffered, Percy knew. He also knew she expected to be hurt again. It's all she'd ever expected again and again, and he'd be damned if he’d let that be the truth. The difference between them was that he had always blamed the gods and she had always blamed herself. “And we’re not in love,” he adds, cheeks pink. It’s childish but he says it anyway.

Aphrodite looks taken aback. As if no one had ever dared to disagree with her in her entire time on earth and olympus; Like claiming they were not in love was blasphemy. “Well- well, you’re mistaken, honey,” she laughs out. The way she scolds him makes Percy frustrated. Could the gods just fucking decide whether to treat them as children or adults. Whatever was convenient for them, Luke had told him and he believes him now, sitting against the fancy seats of Aphrodite’s car, more than ever.

“I’m not,” Percy confirms, holding up his chin. It seems like a simple exchange, but he sees it for what it really is. An act of defiance. Percy had gone to many schools and had been kicked out of many. He’d barely lasted a year at most until Annabeth had come along to keep him out of trouble. But even now, she couldn’t protect him from everything.

Aphrodite just laughs again, ignoring his attitude. Percy knows how lucky he is. He knows how untouchable he is. If he dies, then his future child cannot be born. The child that will supposedly save the Greeks and all of olympus. Percy had seen what the gods could do and how they would punish those below them. Mortals were so small compared to the gods. They were small ants on the ground, ready to be crushed at the first sign of disrespect. But Percy was a special dagger. Still small but sharp and rare and polished. He was a pearl that the gods could not afford to lose.

“Surely, you are. Annabeth is a gift. A gift from the gods to you. And the child you will have will be your legacy,” she tells him. He’d heard their arrangement described in many different ways but never quite so disturbing. And asking children for their futures always seemed that way. “You should be more thankful.” Percy scoffs. He was annoyed before but now he’s actually angry.

“Annabeth isn’t a thing to be given. She isn’t a prize. She’s a person.” Even if Percy wasn’t exactly happy being a pawn to the gods, even if looking at Annabeth reminded him of everything he’d lost, Percy had grown rather fond of her. She was smart and passionate. Nothing was ever as easy as prophesied between them, but sometimes it seemed worth it when she was beside him. That scared him more than anything, the intensity of their friendship. But other times Percy couldn’t bear the burden of his parentage, and it suffocated him profusely. But in spite of all of it, he knew Annabeth. He really knew her, and gods be damned if he’d let anyone treat her like a fucking object.

Something about Aphrodite’s aura changes for an instant and Percy, though he would never admit it, felt a tiny bit of fear curl in his stomach. “An ungrateful child with such a gift,” she says, as if she is talking to herself a bit. “And you will be such a handsome hero too,” she adds, clicking her tongue like it’s such a shame. Aphrodite pushes dark hair out of his face to examine his features and the experience feels violating. Percy’s hands shake, and he shoves them into the pockets of his hoodie. He wants to leave but he can’t move. She doesn’t look so much like Annabeth anymore. Her features are too sharp and her skin so pale. Her eyes are haunting. Annabeth’s were full of life, even after everything she’d been thrown.

“Alright then,” the goddess finally murmurs, releasing Percy from her grasp. “Be on your way.” Percy can finally move and breathe again at her words. “I’ll be watching.” He doesn’t wait another second, leaping from the car and continuing his walk without even checking to see if Luke is following behind.

“Everything alright?” Luke calls from a short distance behind him. Percy’s mind is racing, but he finds the composure to speak anyway.

“Yup,” Percy tells the older boy, popping the p, but really, he’s humiliated. Before, when he’s only met pathetic Mr. D in person and thought lowly of the gods in his mind, Percy had felt invincible. They could never strike him down because he was too important. What a fool he had been. And it only made him embarrassed and ashamed. He’d been a fool to think he was untouchable because he was important. He wasn’t special. Percy was a doll on the Olympian's shelf. He was a painting to be passed around and gawked at and pinned to the wall of someone else’s palace. He would never have anything of his own.

People wanted to matter. They needed to feel useful and purposeful. It made them happy, but that happiness was an illusion. Because anyone who really mattered wasn’t actually happy. Purpose came with a price. The thought mixed with the cold air stung his eyes and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and over his head.

He knows what his step-father would say. He would judge him for the tears he’d spilled, even when he was twelve and it had been Gabe’s raised hand that caused his pain. God, Percy was so small then, sitting with his knees pressed to his chest and his cheek stinging as a bruise formed, holding in his tears like he did now. The thought made him yearn for his mom till his chest hurt from it.

And when he gets back to the apartment, he sees Annabeth sitting on the couch with Thalia. She’s staring down at her homework, procrastinating. She looks so pretty sitting there, her brows scrunched in concentration and when she hears him, she looks up and smiles. Percy doesn't smile back, just finds his way into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The gods thought they knew him. They thought they could take from him time after time. His mother, then his future. They thought they could control him and watch him. They thought they had Percy Jackson all figured out. Let Aphrodite watch, let them all watch. In a small act of defiance, in the darkness of his room, angry tears blurring his vision, Percy thinks something cruel. He makes a promise to himself in a time of devastation.

Sure, he’d have to marry Annabeth Chase. But he didn’t have to love her.
-
Annabeth is sixteen when her fiance rejects her.

It’s not like they’ve never argued before then. It hadn’t been as if they’re venom filled words hadn't been directed at one another before. And it isn’t like he hadn’t acted so cold for the past couple of years. So, now, why did it hurt so much? So much. Possibly the feeling of being casted away by someone who was born to accept her dug into her chest like a dagger. It made her feel unloveable. But if she was being honest, she knew that was not the case. Percy was born for so much more than caring about Annabeth. But still, the thought made her feel so lonely. Why did he hate her? Why was she so unloveable that he couldn’t even want her.

Annabeth was trying so hard to make this work.

When they were twelve, and Percy and Annabeth had first met, Chiron had told them of the prophecy they’d be expected to take part in. Annabeth hadn’t ever been a part of something before then, not even a family. But instead of comforting her, the knowledge just made her sick. She’d wanted to serve the gods. Wanted to be wanted, badly. She wanted to prove herself. And here it was, the potential for both of those things. Someone would accept her and it was written in the stars and promised by all the gods. But it was all wrong.

The adults in her life. Chiron. The gods. They had all talked about the expectation as if it was some great honor, as if they were giving her something. But instead, with messy curls, chubby cheeks and scraped knees, it had felt like something was being taken from her. An arranged relationship between children. Asking for the promise of a future baby years down the line from babies. Annabeth hadn’t known much about the boy sitting before her then, with dark black hair and deep green eyes. Only that he’d killed a minotaur and his mother was dead. She had nothing to say to him. Nothing to say, because she had no idea what it was like to lose a parent, only to wish one was dead. But his eyes were blank with grief which was something she could understand so profusely. Annabeth never mourned a loved one, only the potential. It was still her burden to carry though. They had both been too young to know that stare, too young to agree to promise anything. But her cheeks had burned anyway.

So, no. She hadn’t known much about Percy then. But now it’s different. Annabeth isn’t dumb enough to deny that. So when he had called her selfish, she’d looked in those same eyes that had been grief stricken when they’d first met and saw hate. That was an emotion she could read clear enough, especially on him. This relationship blessed by the gods was a joke, she thought.

“Annabeth.” She hears a knock on the door she’s sitting against then. They were in their apartment in the city. Chiron always seemed glad to send them away for the school year. Maybe he’d always hoped one of these years the two of them would come back in love. Or at least not arguing every second. Luke and Thalia were asleep so his voice was hushed.

“What’d I do?” Annabeth had asked Percy moments before. She was sick of him and his coldness, but he’d been so gentle and kind that evening, it made Annabeth feel less lonely. Annabeth cared for Percy since they were young, and she was reminded of how much closer they’d been when they were that younger. So much that it stung her chest. And when she had pulled him in to kiss him, to feel closer to him in the lonesome silence of his room, he just pushed her away. He was always doing that, pushing her away. In every sense of the words.

“What did I do to make you hate me so much?” She had asked. It wasn’t the rejection, but rather the way he was watching her. He made her feels so small.

The look Percy had given her is burned into her mind so clearly. The memories were fresh, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t forget it for a while. The same anger had been reflected in his eyes when they were twelve and she’d apologized for what she had said about his mother.

“It’s not about you, Annabeth, not everything is.” He had responded.

She gave up just as much as he had, and here he was, calling her selfish. But then, Annabeth second guesses herself. She hadn’t given up much of anything. Before this, she had no one and nothing. She was nothing. She was this prophecy always. He had a mother and maybe even a chance at a slightly normal life. Maybe he had given up way more than she ever had. And maybe he had the right to judge her because of that.

The words stung anyway, and she had thought Percy might see her cry then and there, sitting on his bed. They’d be married in a couple of years and he’d never seen her cry once. Relief and dread made her head fuzzy from just the thought. “I’m going to sleep,” she tells him as an invitation to leave her alone.

“No you're not. You’re sitting against your door,” he remarks as she hears him do the same on the other side.

“Maybe I’m sleeping here tonight,” she deadpans.

“Your back will hurt in the morning then,” Percy tells her, and he actually sounds concerned for a moment. She laughs, so confused and a bit hysterical. It’s all so ridiculous and serious at the same time. “I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he apologizes again. They always seem to be apologizing to one another. Annabeth didn’t want it to be like this. But she can hear the smile in his voice and is already standing to let him in her room. “I’ll actually sleep here if I ha-” Annabeth opens the door with no warning and he falls back, almost hitting his head on the hardwood floor. It’s her turn to apologize. She’s afraid the ruckus may have woken up Thalia or Luke, but silence just echoes through the apartment.

They lay on her bed on seperate sides, and she keeps her hands flat on her stomach. She tenses up at every small movement, so scared her skin will graze his own by accident, and he’ll take the opportunity to reject her once more. Annabeth doesn’t think she could bear that feeling again.

“I don’t hate you, Annabeth,” he says when the silence of her bedroom begins to feel suffocating. “Sometimes it’s just hard because of our. . . situation,” Percy tells her, speaking slowly as if he’s choosing his words carefully.

Hard to love me? She wants to ask. She needs to know the answer. She doesn’t want to know the answer. Annabeth can’t risk putting herself out there once again, so instead she just looks down at the blanket below them. “I’m sorry I’ve been selfish.” She cringes at the way her voice sounds when she says it.

“Hey,” he says, turning on his side to look at her. “Annabeth, you are not selfish.” She turns over on her side to face him, pulling her knees to her chest in the process. Percy presses his palm against her cheek, and Annabeth has never felt more confused. She thinks about pushing his wrist away but doesn’t. Was she pathetic for feeling comforted by his touch? The thought scares her.

“But you said-” Annaebth starts, but Percy is quick to cut her off, saving herself from repeating the harsh words and him from hearing them once more.

“Annabeth, forget about that. I shouldn’t take my shit out on you.” He studies her face in the dim light of the room and speaks again. But this time it sounds more like he’s talking to himself. “It’s not right.”

“It’s because of the gods,” Annabeth deadpans. She doesn’t have to ask because she knows him. She knows him and she cares for him deeply. So much that she’s scared to admit the intensity of it, even to herself. Especially to herself. Maybe if she was easier to love, Percy wouldn’t be in such mental anguish. Maybe if she could provide the same comfort that he gifted to her, he wouldn’t have such a desperate look in his eyes. As if he was an animal trapped in a small box. But maybe she was just being so fucking self centered once more. Percy had said it hadn’t been about her after all, and even if he was apologizing, it didn’t have to mean he still didn’t feel that way now.

“Annabeth-” Percy starts, but she cuts him off. Percy had always seemed to feel such rage directed at the gods. No one had bothered to help him quell it as a child and it became a part of him. It was so embedded within him that Annabeth sometimes thought he thrived off of it at times.

And really he was such a hypocrite. Olympus wouldn’t care if he was miserable or stubborn. But she did. And it hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

“Don’t,” she says softly, voice defeated and Percy fixes her with a sad stare. He still has his hand resting against her skin and their eyes meet, Annabeth looking at him desperately, searching for some way to understand him better. They’re too close and Annabeth can’t breathe. She thinks he’s about to actually kiss her for one moment before he suddenly stops, pulling away.

“Annabeth, you only think you want me, because the gods say you do.” When the words leave his mouth, Annabeth can’t speak or breathe. How could he think that? How could he think that after she’d cared for him so much. Anger rises in her chest and it can’t be contained. Here he was, laying beside Annabeth in her own bed and telling her how she felt. He’d had no idea how she felt.

“Well, you're really confident over one kiss that didn’t even happen,” Annabeth says. Her voice is still soft but it shakes with anger as she bites her lip to stop it from quivering. She can tell he regrets the way he’d worded his sentence that instant, eyes going wide. Good, she thinks. Let him feel bad. “I never said I wanted you.” A part of her wants to hurt him, but the other won’t look at his face in fear she actually has. She doubts that though. He really never seemed to have needed her. Not the way she had always needed him.

“Annabeth, I-” Percy starts in a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation.

“Get out,” she just grits out, turning around and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Annabeth can feel his weight on the bed as he moves to sit up and lingers a moment too long. Then he’s up, shutting off the light on his way out. Annabeth waits till she hears the door shut softly to cry silent tears.
-
Percy is seventeen and still in the same highschool he’d started ninth grade at.

He knows he should be thankful to Annabeth for that. She’s whipped him into shape more than he’d wanted to admit. Sure, she procrastinated and almost made them late for school everyday, but she’d definitely been helpful too. They’d do their homework together at night and shared earphones while listening to audiobooks when their dyslexia became too challenging.

Percy hadn’t wanted to get into trouble in fear of seeing disappointment in those gray eyes. It’s not like Annabeth ever really judged him, but he fears if she did he’d begin to hate himself. He remembers the look she’d shot at him the night they’d fought in her bedroom. He remembers how the storm raging in her eyes had turned to stone and felt ashamed even a year later. But today, he’s not thinking of her nor the repercussions he’d most likely have to face for leaving school early and without an explanation. It didn’t matter really anyway since today was the last day of school.

He is already down the hall and past all the classrooms leading towards the front door, hand on the handle of the exit, when Annabeth catches up to him. She’d come out of nowhere and he’d almost had a heart attack on the spot. The water fountain had gone off in his fright. Annabeth rolled her eyes at his fuss and passed him on her way out the door.

“And where are you going?” Percy asks incredulously after hearing the door shut behind him.

“Coming with you of course,” Annabeth tells him, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Here he’d been trying to sneak out of the building undetected and she’d been a couple steps a head. Literally. Maybe it would always be that way and he’d just have to get used to it.

She stops halfway down the steps, turning and looking at him with an uneasy expression on her face. “If that’s okay with you?” She looks almost shy for a moment and it makes his heart clench. Some of her curls blow in her face and he feels the urge to push them out of the way but restrains himself. She wants to support him, even now after everything they’d said to one another and the harshness of his words all the times they’d argued.

Of course Annabeth had known Percy was going to pull a stunt like this. And of course she wouldn’t want to leave him alone on a day like today. Not when he was going to the cemetery to visit his mother. Luke and Thalia hadn’t wanted either of them wandering around alone. Recent gossip had been circulating within the supernatural world. Talk of people, even some older kids within the camp who didn’t want to see such a prophecy benefiting the gods come true so soon. Demigods who wanted to see olympus fall, which they were sure would happen if Percy and Annabeth were unable to fulfill their part. Sure, it might have all been speculation, but Percy didn’t care. He’d just wanted to visit his mother before going back to camp for the summer. Before he’d have to walk up half-blood hill and relive her death.

He didn’t care who was right or wrong. He didn’t care whether he was deserving. He’d just wanted his mom.

He walks past Annabeth, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever,” he says in an attempt to mask how pleased he is by her presence. Having Annabeth at his side always made everything seem so much easier. Well, everything besides damning the gods apparently. And that’s why it also hurts to be around her.

She laughs, punching his arm and running ahead.

“You don’t even know how to get there!” Percy calls, biting the inside of his cheek.
-
Eventually, the two of them find themselves sitting beside one other in the cemetery in silence. It's comforting, just having her besides him. Their hands linger dangerously close to one another and Percy thinks about placing his fingers over hers. He’s thankful for her. It makes him angry to think how pleased Aphrodite would be if he had just admitted that to her all those years ago in the backseat of her car. Just the thought is enough to have him pull his hand into his lap. If Annabeth has noticed the movement, she’s doing a pretty good job of hiding it.

“What was she like,” Annabeth asks, gaze directed in front of them. They hadn’t talked about his mother much. Even after all these years. Annabeth never spoke much of either of their families or asked questions till now. So in all actuality, it surprises him. Sure, they were close. He can’t really remember a time before his mother died when their bond hadn’t been the most intense aspect of his life. But when it came to one another's past, they treated each other like glass. They were supposed to be one another’s future after all. Which is how he excused the bizarreness of it. But really, he was afraid to shatter Annabeth into a million pieces.

Annabeth putting herself out there like this was such a rarity. Especially after he had pushed her away so intently. He didn’t want to hurt her like that again. He didn’t want to use her feelings like a bargaining chip for his own sanity. So instead of shutting down, he tells her about his mother. About how she’d make him blue pancakes on Saturday mornings and bring him home treats from work. He tells Annabeth about how his mother would brush his hair back every morning before school and then give him a kiss on the forehead before sending him off.

Annabeth watches him silently, but he can tell she’s really listening. Something about her expression seems dreamy but her eyes seem sad, and Percy remembers Annabeth has never really had a mother. She’d looked up to Thalia, but the girl was only slightly older and more like a sister. Annabeth hadn’t ever had any parents.

“Ah, so you’ve never learned how to brush your own hair,” Annabeth says with a cheeky smile. “It makes so much sense now.” She’s joking but her voice is sweet and smile is contagious. She’s trying to cheer him up and it’s working. He thinks about sitting in this cemetery alone and recanting distant memories that faded with each year. It makes him feel lonely to even picture it. Was that how Annabeth has always felt? Alone and picturing a life just out of reach.

“Well, it’s not like you could’ve taught me,” he remarks, goodnaturedly.

She punches him in the arm anyway. “Brushing curly hair makes it frizzy, you idiot.” Sitting besides one another in the grass, Percy can feel the shift in Annabeth’s demeanor. But he can not tell what’s going through her head at the moment so he just waits to see if she’ll confide in him.

Part of Percy knows he’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t. But the other part feels nervous at the thought that she might.

“My dad’s not dead,” she says. Annabeth is quiet and speaks in a shameful tone. Her cheeks are a bit pink from the confession and she’s looking down at the grass, twisting it in between her fingers anxiously. Percy realizes she fears he’ll be angry with her.

“I know,” he just responds softly. Percy had asked Annabeth about her dad once when they were children in an attempt to make conversation. Percy always wondered how terrible a parent had to be towards a child to make them feel so ashamed to be a part of them. “Luke told me about him a while ago.” It’s true. Luke had told Percy a lot regarding Annabeth and the child she’d been when she was only that. A child, not a pawn or a painting or a doll or a fiance.

Percy remembers one night when Luke had been showing him how to use a sword. Somehow Annabeth had come into their conversation and Percy tried not to think about how Luke always talked like he would always know Annabeth better. Something like jealousy had risen in his chest and he’d just pushed it down, refusing to believe that that would make any sense. “It’s partly my fault,” he had told the younger boy. “I’ve helped shelter her from things you and I can understand. From how cruel the gods can be. She can only see flaws in people. She’d spent her entire childhood in a camp.”

But Percy doesn’t think Annabeth has been blind to the gods’ wrong doings. It was only that no normal person has ever treated her with unconditional kindness. It was that she knew the real world was cruel. What people did to one another was cruel.

Annabeth looks up so suddenly then, Percy thinks she may get whiplash. “And you weren’t angry? I- I lied, and you’ve lost your mother. And it seems- it just seems so messed up.” She finally spits out the words, voice shaking only slightly. Percy may not have noticed it if he hadn’t spent so much time with her.

Percy just shrugs before falling back. He looks up at the sky, arm against his forehead to stop the sun from burning his eyes. “I figured you had your reasons,” he tells her honestly. He can hear her sigh as she falls beside him, mimicking his position. “I know what it’s like to wish someone was dead,” he confides, in hopes it will comfort her. Annabeth wasn’t cruel. She was kind. She was loving and passionate. But instead it seems to make her more alert beside him, and when he turns his head to look at her, there’s something like fear in her eyes.

He can tell she’s close to pulling away, slipping from his grasp and closing herself back up.

“Do you mean the gods?” Annabeth asks him. Her voice is hushed and possibly a bit incredulous.

“No,” he laughs bitterly. “No. I mean my stepfather. Or he was my stepfather I guess.” Annabeth knew a bit about Gabe. Percy knew she’d seen some of the news when Gabe had claimed Percy had hurt his mother. He’d gone on and on till Chiron had helped cover it up. It hadn’t meant Percy didn’t see true crime podcasts covering his story at times and cry himself to sleep. Annabeth doesn’t say much to his confession, just watches him carefully, as if she was analyzing his expression. Or trying to.

Sometimes when Annabeth gave him that look, he’d felt annoyed. But today, he let her see the look of hatred on his face. Hatred for that man who’d stolen a chunk of his childhood. He’d stolen the time Percy had spent with his mother. God, the thought made him want to throw up. “Sometimes I’m afraid to run into him in the city.” Annabeth nods, waiting for him to continue. “And-” Percy thinks for a long moment. “And it’s not because I’m scared of him. It’s because I think I would hurt him.”

Percy feels gross admitting it out loud, but sometimes he thought about what it would be like to take something from Gabe Ugliano. To take his pride, his time, his life. To just take anything to compensate for what he had lost. Sometimes he thought about it and it made him happy. He was afraid Annabeth would pull away like he’d felt her begin to do moments before. Instead, she reaches out her hand and places it atop his own. Her fingers were dirty from when she’d placed them against the dirt and grass but that hadn’t mattered, because his were dirty as well.

“My father asked my mother to take me back when I was born,” she laughs and her voice is unnaturally bitter to Percy’s ears. “And my step mom hadn’t wanted me either. So when the gods offered to take me back, he’d sent me away for a fucking artifect from the big house attic.” Percy thinks he might finally see Annabeth’s tears for the first time, under the hot sun in front of his mother’s gravestone. And for once his curiosity is dimmed. He doesn’t want to see her cry, he quickly realizes. But when he turns his face, he sees her eyes still dry and staring blankly as if she’s attempting to separate herself from the memory.

For a moment he can’t breathe at her honesty. The person who was supposed to care for her had thrown her away. He’d treated her like an object to be traded and justified it by thinking she’d be with her mother. Annabeth had never even had a conversation with the goddess in her life. And now she had Percy. He was supposed to be her family. Refusing to love her seemed selfish and petty now. And treating her coldly in the name of revenge to some gods who didn’t even care made him feel small.

“Well,” Percy starts, wrapping his fingers in hers. “My mother would have loved you.”

“Oh, really?” Annabeth asks, voice cheeky again. The change of tone was sudden, but Percy was glad to pull her from the past. What was the point of their arrangement if he couldn’t even do that simple of a favor.

“Yes,” Percy breathes out, and he finds he believes it. “She’d like you better than me,” he laughs.

“I’d find that hard to believe. She really loved you. I can tell by the way you talk about her, Percy,” she says with a genuine smile on her face, as if she loved that he had been loved so intensely. “And I don’t know if she’d be happy with this,” Annabeth claims, voice becoming slightly sad.

“With me being a child groom, you mean?” Percy asks, and Annabeth punches him in the arm for the second time that afternoon. “Well, maybe,” Percy murmurs, thinking about it. He thought about it a lot actually, whether his mom would like who he’d become. “But once she met you, she’d go crazy.” Annabeth laughs and Percy’s cheeks heat. He turns his face back towards the sky in hopes she won’t notice. The laugh is just so soft and she actually sounds happy. The sound of her laughter doesn’t belong in a place like this. “No, I’m serious. I haven’t even been kicked out of school yet!”

They talk together for a while until comfortable silence washes over them once more. The sun begins to dim when he tells Annabeth that they better head home soon and she doesn’t respond. He looked over to see her dozed off in the grass, curled on her side with her head resting on her arm, the other still reached out towards his own hand.

And when he sees her brow smoothed out and face untroubled, he doesn’t think he can wake her. Just a couple more minutes, Percy promises himself before settling back once more. The last thing he sees before falling into sleep himself is Annabeth’s pretty face, unburdened.
-
Annabeth wakes up to Thalia shaking her shoulder and it takes her a moment to realize where she is.

“Annabeth,” Thalia says sternly and her face feels hot. She’s glad it’s dark because she doesn’t want Thalia to see the shame written on it. She wouldn’t feel bad for going with Percy to visit his mother. Ever. So she fixes the older girl with a defiant look. “You were supposed to be home hours ago.”

And then everything is drowned out by the noise of a gun going off somewhere nearby. And after that, everything happens so quickly. Thalia is on Annabeth in an instant, and she can’t even look up to see Thalia’s face one more time before a bullet is in her forehead, warm blood splattering against Annabeth’s face.

She gasps out, heart racing in her chest with a ferocity. But she doesn’t have time to think or cry or even feel sorry for herself because she is still alive. Percy is still alive. So Annabeth reaches into the waistband of Thalia’s jeans, pulling out her own gun and shooting blindly till everything goes quiet.

She lays there under Thalia’s body then, shaking. Everything feels numb and she can’t breathe. Her eyes are dry and yet they sting. She can feel and hear nothing but cold and a ringing in her ears and the heavy weight on her chest that makes her sick. Annabeth doesn’t know how many seconds she lays there with Thalia’s blood warming her face and her brains splattered over them both. She wants to get up and move but when she tries a faint pain echoes in her side, proving that this was real and not a nightmare. But nothing besides that pain can possibly ground her, not when she’s trying to find out if she is floating or drowning.

And then she’s being pulled from the ground, grounded by the warmth of another and a steady heartbeat making its way past the ringing.

“Annabeth. Annabeth.” Percy’s voice jolts her back to reality. Thalia’s loss hits her like a truck then, but still, even now, her eyes remain dry. She can’t cry. She won’t fucking cry. Thalia had died protecting her. The act of crying seemed selfish, at least in the moment. Especially in the moment as she can hardly comprehend what is even happening.

“Thalia’s dead. She’s dead,” she settles on, words breathy and panicked and she can barely choke them out. She can’t say anything else. There’s nothing else to say.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, placing his fingers under her chin to examine her face for injuries. He meets her unfocused eyes in the process. “Are you-”

More gunshots ring through the air, and he pulls her tight to his chest, throwing them both to the ground. She whimpers under him, side flaring in pain. Her breath is heavy and ragged against the skin of his neck but he doesn’t dare let go till it’s quiet once more. Percy pulls them both up into a sitting position slowly. She whimpers once more at the movements.

Percy wipes sticky blood from her face, trying to ensure it’s not hers. “What’s wrong,” he asks, eyes seeming desperate. Then he sees the blood from her side. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright,” he murmurs, trying to comfort her, but his words just come out breathy and panicked as if he is trying to reassure himself more than her.

“Tell me you love me,” Annabeth shutters out unexpectedly. “Tell me before I die, please.” She’s losing blood fast and she feels a bit lightheaded. Her vision is fuzzy and her eyelids are beginning to feel heavy, but she doesn’t cry. She isn’t scared, just desperate. Annabeth only takes ragged breaths and tries to focus on Percy’s green eyes. The thought might come from her delirious state, but Annabeth feels it is a shame they won’t be married.

Percy looks at her incredulously, but doesn’t say what she wants to hear. “Say it, you ass,” she mumbles. Her words are slurred slightly but she’s sure Percy knows what she’s saying, even if her head is spinning and she can’t stop thinking out loud.

“You aren’t going to die, moron,” he says back, although the last thing Annabeth sees before everything turns to nothing is the look in his eyes.

White hot fear before she loses consciousness.
-
Percy is eighteen and the only sober person at Rachel’s birthday party.

Her father was away despite the occasion, and Percy was sure this party was an effort to piss him off. There were lights practically everywhere and kids swimming in her pool fully dressed. He’d been to Rachel’s house multiple times this past year, but somehow, with it full of kids from his school, it felt even bigger. After convincing a normally level headed acquaintance from his math class he couldn’t jump from the roof into the pool, Percy had made his way to the kitchen for a moment of peace.

He’s wondering where Annabeth has gone at almost the exact instant that she’s falling through the doorway of the kitchen, grabbing onto the frame to steady herself. She giggles in a way he’d hardly heard out of her lately, and the sound makes him feel lighter. Percy had been surprised when Rachel invited Annabeth to her party in the first place, although, maybe he hadn’t been giving his friend enough credit. Rachel was always kind towards Annabeth. Maybe he was more surprised that Annabeth had agreed to come in the first place.

“Hey,” he greets, watching Annabeth carefully in case he has to reach out and steady her. She sits beside him at a stool and he pushes his glass of water towards her. Percy never drank, as he associated it too much with the worst parts of his past. But when Annabeth was drunk, she’d just got giggly and ranted a lot about random things. Percy thinks he’s probably learned more from her in moments like this than all of school. But tonight, he finds she has other things on her mind.

“Do you know what Rachel asked me?” Annabeth asks him, eyes wide. He waits for her to respond but when silence remains hanging over the room, Percy realizes she’s waiting for him to ask.

“What?” Something twists in his stomach, and Percy realizes he’s actually nervous trying to figure out what a conversation between Rachel and Annabeth alone would be like. One where Percy wasn’t there to mediate it.

Annabeth had never been too good at making friends. Something about Percy had always seemed to attract the right people. Annabeth had never really been good at letting anyone in long enough to find the right people.

“She asked if the two of us were dating,” Annabeth tells him, murmuring it as if it’s a secret. Then she burst out into laughter. Like it’s all so funny. Maybe it was a bit funny.

“And what’d ya say?” Percy finally asks her after a long moment of watching her sip his water, curiosity getting the better of him as it always seemed to do with Annabeth.

“Kind of,” Annabeth says, laughing again. “We’re kind of dating.”

Hanging out with Rachel has been easy, Percy suddenly thinks then. Talking to her has been easy too. Especially compared to other girls in his life. He realizes the thought may be unfair but something about the normality of their friendship made Percy happy. He had fun when they were together. A heavy silence hangs over them for a moment before Annabeth breaks it, resting her face against the counter top once more.

“Thalia would be so annoyed if she knew I was drinking,” Annabeth says, changing the conversation so drastically and so quickly. Percy’s heart stops for just a second at her words and shame makes his face feel hot. They had hardly talked about what happened that night or Thalia. That night she'd asked him to tell him he loved her, with her hands twisting in his hoodie as tight as her weakened state would allow. She’d been bleeding out on the grass and he couldn’t even say the words. What a dick, he thinks to himself, still cringing at the very thought of it.

She’d told him about how her father had been the first person to let her down. He was so scared he’d be the last. And he’d cried that night, but when she’d woken up, he hadn’t even had the nerve to be there or come see her till she was well enough to be back on her feet.

“Yeah, probably,” he says, at a loss for words. He knew Annabeth had forced herself to relive that night. He knew she’d have nightmares so bad that he’d wake up and find she’d crawled into his bed the night before. Even despite their disconnect and her fear, she’d still sought out his comfort. Everytime they took a step forward, every single time they opened up towards one another, even a tiny bit, they’d take two steps back. If he’d just woken her up, if he’d just done anything, maybe she wouldn’t have had to live that moment once let alone a million times in her dreams.

Annabeth traces the rim of Percy's drink, staring at it distracted and suddenly she looks sad. “You know. Her dad was so awful to her,” Annabeth starts and Percy is worried about where the conversation is headed. He hadn’t known much about Thalia's past but he did know her father was more involved in her life than most olympians. “And then she died for them.”

“It was never about protecting Olympus,” Percy promises her, voice hushed. He never understood Annabeth’s need to please her mother and make her proud, but now, her sounding so bitter made him nervous. He hadn’t ever wanted Annabeth to lose herself. “It was about protecting you. Because she loved you.” It’s what he’d wanted her to know since the night she’d woken up in the hospital. It’s what he would have told her if he wasn’t such a fucking coward. “You can’t blame yourself for this either,” he warns, knowing her too well. “You have to stop.”

Annabeth looks like she’s thinking about it for a while, what he has said. He thinks she’s about to start a fight, but instead she just presses her cheek back against the countertop, sighing at how cool it feels on her skin. “Will you take me home,” she asks him, eyes big and he nods.

Of course he’d take her home.

On their way out he finds Rachel and pulls her in for a hug, wishing her a happy birthday. They laugh at some joke she makes and Percy doesn’t miss the way Annabeth looks at her shoes throughout their entire encounter.
-
“Here you go,” Annabeth says once there in his room, handing him the jacket he’d placed around her shoulders on their way home. Percy takes it wordlessly, hanging it up in the closet and turning back around to watch her pull her tights off. She has a dagger strapped to her thigh that she takes off as well and Percy wonders if Rachel would’ve wanted it in her house or if Annabeth had been planning on knifing their peers.

But he knew she was so scared since that night. Especially since Luke hadn’t seemed to be around as much, flaking on his duties. He hadn’t been the same since Thalia had died and he hadn’t grieved normally as Annabeth had. Percy found himself thinking about the older boy every once in a while.

Annabeth climbs into his bed still in her dress and pulls her knees to her chest. He sits on the bed beside her, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

Percy pushes curls out of her face and looks down to see her watching him sleepily. He can tell something has been bothering her since the moment she’d followed him into his room, since they’d left the party really. So, of course he isn't surprised when she speaks.“Ya know,” Annabeth says, her words slurred a bit. “If you want to date Rachel then I won’t blame you. You look happy when you’re with her. I want you to be like that all the time.”

“What? Annabeth, we're gonna be married soon,” he says, as if what she has just said is the most incredulous thing he’s ever heard. And maybe it is.

“But that doesn’t- I mean, if you want to see other people-” Percy cuts her off then, before she can get out the words.

“Is that what you want?” He asks her, thinking about the way she would always blush at Luke’s praise, speaking of him so highly since she was young. He knew even the thought was just ridiculous but it still made jealousy arise in him.

“No, no, it’s just that- I- I won’t be another person that takes from you,” she finally gets out the words, clear frustration piercing each of them. His features soften at her confession. She was trying to push him away, he realized then and his heart hurt a bit. And really, he couldn’t even blame her. He’d been pushing Annabeth away for years now because of his own personal vendetta that had nothing to do with her. And she was doing it now to protect herself from that very thing.

He’d hurt her and she was trying to protect him from feeling the same way.

“Annabeth, there’s no other way for me to say it,” he starts, slight annoyance slipping past his calm demeanor. She looks up at him with wide, gray eyes at his change of tone. “I only want you.”

As soon as he says the words, Percy realizes Annabeth is surprised by them. She’s surprised and it makes him feel so ashamed. All this time, he’d been making her feel so unwanted. Sure, a part of him knew that. But it was a small part. Whenever the thought would creep into his mind and guilt would churn within him, Percy would push it down and ignore it. But now, here she was, right in front of him, surprised he wanted her.

“Okay,” she nods, suddenly looking a bit sober and at a loss for words. She reaches for his hand tucked against his lap and curls their fingers together. Percy lets out a surprised breath but tightens his grip.

Then he’s watching her sleep once more, unburdened, just as he had that day in the cemetery. He makes a promise to himself, in the darkness of his room with Annabeth’s hand in between his own. He was not going to let another person hurt her. He wouldn’t let anyone give her a reason to feel unwanted.

Never again.

The problem was, Percy wasn’t so sure he would be able to let go of the promise he’d made to himself all those years ago.

And that uncertainty clings to him like a parasite.
-
Annabeth is nineteen when she gets married to Percy Jackson.

She runs her finger over the scar on her side from where she’d been shot years ago. The pain still echoes in her mind before she pulls her dress up fully and over herself, hiding the scar behind pretty, silky white fabric. Her dress is undeniably beautiful with long sleeves that wrap around her shoulders and wrists in a perfect fit. The back was a lace-up corset, and the bottom flowed out in a gown that made her feel like a princess. She hadn’t felt completely herself in it, but that wasn't what today was about. She had known that for a long time.

Everything feels so superficial now that she was finally in her dress. Before, Annabeth had always known what future had lied ahead of her with plenty of time to accept it. But now, looking in the mirror at this version of herself, it all seems too real. Annabeth wonders what the seven year old girl who’d ran away from home would think now, with a veil tucked into her curls, a braided crown across her head with the rest flowing over her shoulders. She wonders what she would do.

She doesn’t wonder for too long. She knows herself too well. Annabeth would run.

But Annabeth is much older now and more mature too. She has the weight of the world upon her shoulders and if she were to give into her anxious tendencies, it would crush everyone she’d ever cared about and more.

Would her baby feel like that? Would her baby want to run away from the life Annabeth gave them? Maybe trapping a child into a mold and a suffocating, tragedy ridden life of a hero was a small price to pay for the end of the world to be stopped. But to Annabeth, the consequence was devastating. Every morning she woke up, everyday she got a little bit older, it became more real. And it became more evident that she couldn’t do it. But really what other choice was there? Was it selfish to have a child? Was it more selfish not to?

She was stuck in this debate and there was absolutely no relief in sight. The more she thought of it, the more she worried.

Annabeth finds herself sitting down against the wall with her head in her hands, and that’s how Piper finds her a couple of minutes later.

“Hey, Annabeth,” she starts, attempting to sound casual but the nervousness in her voice gives her away. Annabeth is too anxious herself to care. “What’s going on?” She forces a smile, speaking in a sing-song tone, and Annabeth wants to roll her eyes at the younger girl, speaking to her like she’s on the edge of a cliff.

Her and Piper had become fast friends the second she’d got to camp and it had surprised Annabeth immensely. She’s never been great at making friends, or connections, and she and Piper had practically been a world away when they’d first met. But here she was despite all that seemed stacked up against them, before Annabeth with concerned eyes.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Annabeth replies, not bothering to sound convincing or even look up for that matter, but when she finally does, Piper gives her a knowing smile.

“I’ll be right back,” her friend lies.
-
Percy walks in the room to see Annabeth looking like a nervous wreck. But, for a moment, he can’t fucking breath.

She is so devastatingly beautiful in her white dress, curls flowing over her shoulders. Even with her brows scrunched and her eyes full of panic. He knocks on the door frame, a cheeky smile on his face, hoping to cheer her up. “Hey, Stranger.”

“You, idiot,” Annabeth says in greeting. “This is terrible luck.” Percy laughs but Annabeth doesn’t join in. “Piper, that jerk. I swear I-”

“You look so pretty, Annabeth,” he says, cutting her off and her expression turns soft. She gives him a sad smile, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. He comes to sit beside her against the wall. If life hadn’t fucked them over so ruthlessly, this could have been different. Percy was sure in a different lifetime, they would share a moment such as this one, without all the pressure.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yup,” he agrees, smiling at her. “It’s okay to admit I look hot. I brushed my hair and everything, just for you.”

“And it’s still a mess,” she tells him, tucking some of it behind his ear. He had trimmed it for today, but some of it still fell against his forehead and curled at the nape of his neck. The gesture makes his face feel a bit warm and he finds himself staring at her intently as she concentrates on fixing his hair.

“What’s wrong?” Percy finally gets up the courage to ask.

“Gods, why does everyone think there’s something wrong?” Annabeth grits out, tone frustrated. She lets her forehead fall against her knees and Percy moves his hand to rest on her head, stroking her curls.

“Maybe ‘cause you look terrified,” Percy suggests and he hears her let out a little sigh.

“I am,” Annabeth confesses, suddenly terrifyingly serious. Her voice quivers and she keeps her face hidden in her dress. Percy wants to see her face so badly then, to assure her she doesn’t have to be scared. But, really, he doesn’t know if his promises hold any meaning for Annabeth any longer, after all this time. Sometimes Percy felt like Annabeth would not be able to count on him if it came down to it and it makes him hate himself. “I’m so scared.”

“Because the world will end if we don’t get it on?” Percy asks, and Annabeth laughs out a bit delirious from panic and the ridiculousness of it all.

“Yes,” she says. “I just- I don’t want to bring a child into this world if they’re gonna feel unwanted,” Annabeth rants, resting her head on his shoulder. The act makes his heart flutter a bit, already heavy from her words. “Nobody should be born already with a purpose. I don’t want our baby to be subjected to a life of hurt and now everything feels so- so-”

“Real?” Percy finishes for her, and she nods against his shoulder, defeated. The thought of Annabeth becoming less and less herself over the years and more of a hollow shell makes his blood boil. “Annabeth,” he starts, about to make a promise he would die to keep. He’d been so selfish, thinking about himself, stuck in the past for so long. And while Percy had thought only of himself, Annabeth had been relentlessly torturing herself over the potential anguish of their future child. He should have noticed. He should have quelled her fear. They were supposed to be partners. “No matter how unconventional, we will be a family,” he tells her, pulling away to look her in the eyes and rest his palms against her cheeks. “We’ll be a family, and I promise you I’ll never let anything happen to our child.”

Annabeth watches him speak with wide and loving eyes. She always gave him that look, as if he could do no wrong, and he knew he’d never be worthy of it. He holds out his fist to her, and this time she doesn’t hesitate. They are twelve again and he’s apologizing for pulling her hair at camp, this fistbump to seal the promise and he smiles at her warmly.

Annabeth deserves a family and Percy would give her one. A real one.

“I love you,” she tells him, pulling him close and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. He could tell she hadn’t thought before speaking the words out loud, and when he doesn’t say them back after a couple of moments, she goes to pull away.

“Don’t,” Percy whispers, voice desperate, holding her tighter. “Please.”

He’d never deserved her, never, and it was more evident now than ever, with his hand tangled in her hair and her cheek resting against his shoulder.
-
The ceremony is beautiful. Percy and Annabeth really hadn’t had much of a hand in it nor were they expected to. Their vows weren’t intricate nor were they their own words. But when he speaks, placing his hand against the soft skin of her cheek, flushed, he finds he means every word. And it all feels too intimate.

It feels like something that others shouldn’t witness.

And then Percy pulls Annabeth towards him, and for a moment his lips are against hers. It’s quick and fleeting, and Percy covers her small hands with his, hiding the way they shake ever so slightly from the rest of the room. If he can’t tell her how he feels, he’ll show her in the way he curls his fingers around her own. He’ll show her in the way his lips are warm and comforting against hers. And finally, in the way he pulls away to look her in the eyes, expression like a promise.

He gives Annabeth a warm smile. She just stares back at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

And it isn’t till late that night that things begin to go downhill.
-
Annabeth is feeling light, a giddiness in her chest that Percy hasn’t been able to place there since they were young.

“Where’s Percy?” Grover asks her, where she’s maneuvering her way through a crowd. Their reception was on Olympus and Annabeth had hardly been there in all her life. Before the ceremony, her nerves had taken over. Her thoughts had blurred together, her mind and heart in a constant and suffering battle with no clear end in sight. Now she was taking the significance of it all in. She might as well enjoy herself tonight. All the rest of her days would be spent by them. For them. Perhaps she was overly dramatic or maybe it was only the truth. Harsh and bitter and real, as the truth always tended to be.

“I-” It takes Annabeth a moment to realize she isn’t sure. Her cheeks feel hot from shame. “He’s around here somewhere.” Grover squeezes her shoulder and throws her a grin before making his way through the crowd. Annabeth finds Percy in the garden. She takes a couple steps closer till she’s near enough to see there’s an unfamiliarity in his movements. He’s drunk, Annabeth realizes in an instant. And it makes her heart drop so suddenly. She may not have been so surprised if it wasn’t for the fact that he never drank. Annabeth comes closer till they are facing one another.

“I love your hair,” Percy tells her in place of a greeting. For a second he makes her feel nostalgic, wrapping a curl around his finger. But then, she is back in the present, and he smells like alcohol. Annabeth just cringes and moves back but he pulls her closer. She’s sure if she were to pull away now he’d let her go, but she doesn’t. She just lets him hold her in the stillness and silence of the garden. Something about the atmosphere gives her a hint of clarity. Then she’s drowning.

“Is it really so bad,” she asks, eyes watering. Her words are shaky and muffled against his shoulder, arms hanging limply at her sides. “Marrying me?”

Percy pulls away from her then, placing his hands on the sides of her face, palms pressed to the damp skin of her cheeks. “I’ve never seen you cry before,” he almost whispers, so soft and serious despite his drunken manner. He moves a hand from her cheek to sweep her hair and the veil over her shoulder, brushing a tear from her face in the process. “You look like a painting.” Her heart beats fast at his words and faster at the way he’s looking at her. Those green eyes make Annabeth’s face flush, but she’s too angry to feel embarrassed. Why did those eyes always have to look so sad?

God, Annabeth, it’s not always about you.

His words ring in her ear. But today was her wedding night. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t the only one losing. Losing agency, choice, potential. And she had never felt like she was losing more than now, cradling his wrists in her hands in the garden. She’s never felt more lonesome, even as a child. Perhaps Annabeth had been a fool to even have hope that they could reflect some sort of family. It was sick and twisted.

She pushes him away and turns to go. Percy does not try to stop her. Something like relief floods into Annabeth’s system at the same time as disappointment does. She turns around then, after putting quite a distance between them. Annabeth smooths out her dress and fixes her hair back over her shoulder, wiping her face dry. She straightens her back and lifts her chin before speaking.

“Clean yourself up and get back inside,” Annabeth tells him. It feels like they’ve taken ten steps backwards. She doesn’t wait for his response, just walks away ready to smile when it becomes necessary.

She had cried in front of him then. She didn’t know how she hadn’t cried all those times before when everything had always felt so uncertain. Maybe, because, up until now she had some hope to hold onto. Hope in the uncertainty. That once this day had come everything would work out. But now it was here. Now they were married and everything was still just as fucking confusing.

“I don’t get it,” she hears Percy call after her and Annabeth stops in her tracks at his voice. She doesn’t answer, just waits for him to speak. Her patience is slowly dwindling but it hurts to think she would always have time for him, always forgiving him eventually no matter what he did. “They did this to you, Annabeth. Why don’t you hate them? They’ll make us have a baby and they’ll make us do whatever else they want. They’ll just keep using us.” The statement stings. It’s only words but they make her chest hurt. Annabeth is in a garden surrounded by trees and pretty flowers and the cool night air and she can’t breathe.

He promised he would protect their child and now it felt like he was throwing her fear in her face.

Annabeth is taken back by his bluntness, and she knows immediately he’s talking about the gods. This is how he still thought of her? As some little girl who jumped at any chance to please her mother? Fuck that. Her own father hadn’t wanted her, her step mother treated her like shit and her mother was absent and asking her for so much. Her friend was dead and she’d laid below her with her brains splattered against her skin. And now, her husband was standing before her as a stranger.

“You know what,” she tells him, such real anger filling her words in a way she’d never directed towards him. Annabeth had always thought of Percy so highly, but here, standing before her, the facade was beginning to crack. “A lot of people depend on us having this child, not just olympus. A lot of people will be hurt if we don’t do this. Just because I’m not- not running around all the time blaming everyone else around me, doesn’t mean I’m happy,” Annabeth finishes, letting out her words all in one breath. She can’t help herself once she’s started, the rant making her lighter and heavier somehow. “If the olympians want to- to,” she pulls at the skirt of her gown, “parade us around, then that’s on them. But it’s time to face fucking reality, because this,” she starts gesturing towards him. “This isn’t going to change anything.” And when Percy doesn’t respond she starts to leave again, before stopping abruptly.

“And they didn’t do this to me. You did.”
-
Annabeth makes her way out of the garden quickly, attempting to wipe underneath her eyes to the best of her ability. She wasn’t only angry, but utterly naked. The thought could make her throw up now. She needs a moment still, to herself. To breathe. The cool air on her cheeks helps her to collect her thoughts.

“Oh, Annabeth,” comes a voice from behind her, elegant and silky and undeniably powerful. She wipes a tear away too late and whirls around.

“Mom?” She asks. Her voice doesn’t come out the way she had imagined in her mind. It’s frail almost and she feels small compared to this goddess standing in front of her. Her mother had taken her by surprise.

“I have to apologize. I shall not pretend this is the great honor the rest of them do. A child of Athena’s fate should never be so diminishing.” Annabeth mulls one her mother’s words in her head, hating what she hears. “Perseus Jackson is a terrible hero,” she says plainly. It’s as if it’s the simplest fact in the world. And too think he’d give up so much because of their negligence; for them. Before she can continue, Annabeth interrupts not caring whether it would seem disrespectful or not. Maybe Percy could love this version of her. Somebody willing to stand her ground. She couldn’t stand the person he thought she was.

“He’s my husband,” Annabeth defends, voice firm and eyes shining. She whirled insults of lost faith towards him a moment ago, and here she was, still defending him. Still putting him first. Perhaps she was a fool and her mother would see right through it. Perhaps she would lose her own mother’s sympathy for someone who didn’t seem to care much about her feelings enough. And that hurt because she loved him terribly.

“And I am sure he will be terrible at that as well.” Annabeth never wanted to be a disappointment in her mother’s eyes. And she never cared that Percy couldn’t understand it. He’d had a mother who loved him deeply and without conditions. She loved him selflessly till the very end. Of course he wouldn't understand. And now, standing before her own mother with tears staining her face, Annabeth knows there was never a point. She was a disappointment since she was born and it had nothing to do with her own actions or choices. It was such a fucking shame that Annabeth had to search for approval in every person she ever cared about. How unbelievably worthless that made her feel.

Annabeth doesn’t deny her mother’s words and guilt starts to curl in her stomach. And it’s not because she doesn’t want to say anything. Annabeth loves Percy still, even now. She loves him. It’s a simple fact. She just doesn’t know what to say. Athena raises a hand and Annabeth’s eyes dry. Her makeup is fixed and her hair is down, falling against her back, wavy and soft and completely perfect.

“Now you should go back inside.”

And when her mother speaks, Annabeth listens.
-
Annabeth doesn’t talk to Percy for days once they are married.

Nothing has changed between them so there is nothing to say. There was no reason to speak to one another. Perhaps it partly has to do with the fact that she’s been avoiding him vimently.

At least Annabeth believes that, and she could be stubborn; was stubborn. She knew that and Percy knew that as well. Perhaps that is why he’s the one to break their silence. Annabeth is leaving when Percy is just coming home. He grabs her wrist before she can walk past. He doesn’t speak for a second and she doesn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he finally tells her, although her back is still turned to him when he says it. She scoffs, trying to pull away but Percy holds on. He must not be used to chasing her the same way Annabeth had to do for him. The thought only makes her angrier.

“I’m tired of forgiving you,” she says, and it’s only taken her multiple years to admit it. Her words sound childish but it doesn’t matter because she’s relieved to have spit them out. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to say the word if their eyes were meeting.

“You don’t have to,” Percy says, and she turns to look at him. “Just talk to me.”

“What is there to even talk about?” She asks, finally annoyed.

“I miss you,” he says, face all sad and eyes wide. She thinks she may give in for a moment, but recoils. “I don’t think we’ve ever not spoken for this long.” None of this was fair.

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t miss me.” Because if he truly did miss her; if he cared enough to long for her presence, then Annabeth would forgive him. She would continue to forgive him and he’d keep on hurting her.

“I do,” he confirms and Annabeth can’t take it. “And I hate that I’ve made you feel any other way.” She laughs then. Actually laughs at him.

“You don’t know the first thing about how I’ve felt,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since we were little kids and all you’ve ever done was make me feel bad for it. When I’m with you, I’m so fucking lonely. So, please. Just-”

“I love you,” he blurts out then, voice steady like he means it. “Sometimes I think you’re the only person who really knows me. And I know you’re the only person I’ve ever really loved, and it scares me to think about it.” There’s a pause in the conversation. Neither of them dare to speak nor breathe. “I never deserved you.”

“I-” Her breath stutters and her words waver. She doesn’t know what to say. This is what she has wanted to hear for so long; I love you. I feel the same way for you as you do towards me. You know me. I truly know you.

Annabeth had pictured him saying the words many times over, and every time she’d felt utterly pathetic. Too pathetic to imagine how she would actually respond. And maybe a part of her is hesitant to believe him. Percy is beside her in a moment, crossing the room and pressing his lips to hers.

His lips on her and her heart thrumming in her ears.

That is all she can focus on. Here and now. The moment itself.

She should pull away now and leave him here like the fool he was. Such a stupid fucking fool. But instead, Annabeth presses her palm against the space between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer.

Annabeth lets him hold her near. She lets herself be vulnerable and lets him make her feel good. She lets him brush his fingers along her scar. Because, after all this time, she trusts him. Of course she trusts him. For as long as Annabeth can remember, he was her closest friend. She wanted to be with him always or at least for as long as possible. She never wanted to be apart. She bares herself to him, completely open for the first time in so long that she almost doesn’t recognize herself. It’s thrilling and freeing and terrifying.

Annabeth doesn’t stop to think if it was a mistake or not.
-
Annabeth is twenty-three when she holds her son in her arms for the first time.

And Percy isn’t there.

She hears footsteps stop in the doorway, and tears her eyes away from her son, looking up to see Percy. Finally.

Their family all together for the time makes Annabeth’s eyes watery and when she meets Percy’s, his are too. She knows he can’t see the little bundle in her arms too far from a distance and wants him to come closer. But Percy doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is soft and it makes her heart flutter. Percy looks heartbroken, as if she had the capacity to be mad at him right now. They could discuss anything later. But now, something was more important.

Annabeth just smiles at him, eyes shining. “You big idiot,” she says, as if they’re still children, arguing at the dining pavilion. Her words are teasing but her face is soft and eyes adoring. “Come hold your son.”

Percy walks over and Annabeth pats the bed, beckoning him to sit beside her. He does hastily but gently and Annabeth can tell he’s nervous watching his hands shake slightly. Annabeth places the baby into his arms, fixing his form and showing him how to support the baby’s neck properly.

When Percy gets a good look at his son’s face for the first time, he gasps. The sound is soft and quiet but she hears despite that. The sight of the two of them together is fulfilling. All three of them seem to come together so naturally. They’re a family and it’s divine. They’re meant to be that way.. She’s just so happy. And when she looks at his face, Percy’s crying a bit with her.

“He’s so small,” is all he can utter out and Annabeth nods frantically, resting her head against his shoulder so they can look at their baby together properly. She moves her hand to rest on the baby and he ends up gripping her finger in his little hand. Annabeth thinks her heart could stop at the mere action. “Annabeth, he’s perfect.”

“He looks like you, fool,” Annabeth laughs, pressing her lips together.

“He has your curls though,” Percy says and she delicately runs her palm along their son’s head, watching the baby pear up at them sleepily. He looks like he’s about to fall back asleep and she feels just as tired. But Annabeth forces herself to stay alert, not wanting this moment to end. “And your eyes too,” Percy adds.

“Well, they’ll probably change,” Annabeth tells him and Percy nods. She yawns, rubbing her own eyes and the guilty expression he’d worn in the doorway returns. “What?” She asks. Annabeth finds herself nervous in fear the bubble they’re in will pop and reality will come back in full force.

“You had to do this all on your own?” Percy asks, phrasing it like a question but she knows him well enough to know it’s actually not. Annabeth lifts her cheek from his shoulder and brings her palm to rest on his cheek, the skin a bit damp.

“I’m just glad we’re all together now,” she promises him with big, honest eyes. “Gods, I’m so glad. I- I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” He asks her incredulously.

“I’m always worried about you,” Annabeth confesses and Percy wraps his fingers around her wrist, holding her hand gently against his face for a moment longer before curling their fingers together. She lays her head against his shoulder once more, and Percy kisses her knuckles. “And now,” Annabeth continues, looking at her son again and watching his eyes close. He really was so perfect. “And now I’ll have two boys to worry about.” She directs this at the baby in Percy’s arms. But for some reason, she sounds happy about it. Having someone to worry about was a privilege, and if anyone knew that, Annabeth did.

“I love you so much,” Percy says. Annabeth thinks she’s a little high from the words, or maybe it’s the sleep that pulls at her eyelids and makes her head fuzzy. She can’t keep her eyes open, but Annabeth fears if she lets herself be pulled into the abyss of unconsciousness, she’ll miss something special. “Go to sleep,” her husband tells her, kissing her on the forehead tenderly. Annabeth fixes him with a stubborn look and he rolls his eyes. “We’ll be here just like this when you wake up,” he promises.

The promise makes it easier for Annabeth to give in, closing her eyes, her son in Percy’s arms the last thing she sees.

And with that, Annabeth finds herself at ease.
-
Percy is the worst father ever and this baby has hardly even had the chance to exist.

And feeling Annabeth’s even breaths against his shoulder makes him think he may be the worst husband as well. Here she was, in the hospital with a complicated delivery, worried about him. And he’d been with Luke. To be fair, Luke had tried to kill him, confessing Thalia’s death was his own fault. Percy had hardly lived to even meet the baby. And he couldn’t bring himself to tell Annabeth any of that now, not when she was so physically and emotionally drained.

All he could think was what if he had died there in the woods at camp. And he would have lost them. He would have never even seen Annabeth once more. He would never know her soft touch again or the weight of her head against his shoulder.

He could help but be taken back to the moment he told her the words he’d withheld spitefully for so long. He knew he would never forget that look on her face; how unwanted she must have felt for so long.

Percy looks up, a bit surprised to see Piper in the doorway. He doesn’t know why, since she’d been so excited for this baby. But he detects nervousness in her brown eyes and holds his breath for a moment. It breaks him from his thoughts. But then, her face abruptly changes, noticing the little human in his arms.

“Oh my gods!” Piper practically shouts before noticing Annabeth is sleeping besides him. “Oh my gods,” she repeats, but this time in a whisper. Whatever he had seen in her face before is gone, now replaced with something like wonder.

“Want to hold him?” Percy asks and she looks like she may pass out right there, nodding frantically. Percy holds in a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek.

Piper comes around the bed where Percy is sitting and holds out her arms eagerly. Percy helps situate the baby in her arms the same way Annabeth had done for him. She giggles a little giddy

“What’s his name?” Piper asks, voice hushed and looking a bit in awe. Percy realizes she’s probably never held such a tiny human in her arms before either.

“He doesn’t have one yet,” Percy tells her, only coming to the realization once she’s asked. Everything had happened so suddenly and he and Annabeth hadn’t had time to decide. They’d been too busy taking in their son’s face.

“I think Piper definitely suits him,” she says, and Percy laughs softly. “Oh, I’m not joking,” Piper adds, but she’s smiling anyway.

“Something simple,” Annabeth chimes in, lifting her head off Percy’s shoulder and rubbing sleep from her eyes. “His life will be complicated enough as it is.”

“Oh, Annabeth!” Piper acknowledges her friend for the first time. “He’s beautiful.” Annabeth smiles up at her proudly. “Like, no really. I came up here totally ready and prepared to lie. Newborns all look the same. But him; he is so cute. Look at this head of hair.” Piper is pretty much yelling in the hospital room and Percy thinks they better tone it down before a nurse asks her to leave. But neither of them can get a word in before Piper is speaking again. “Tell me I can be the godmother, please.”

“Sure, if we were catholic and not actually children of greek gods,” Percy promises, and Piper looks happy with the response despite the sarcasm. Annabeth elbows him right in the ribs though so Percy shuts up.

“Guys.” He looks up to see Nico. And he speaks with an urgency that makes Percy tense. He isn’t sure how long the younger boy had stood there, in the doorway watching their exchange. He’s sure Piper and him had come all the way here together. And he’s just as sure Nico wasn’t here to coddle the new baby.

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, getting right to the point.

“We’re here to warn you not to bring the baby back to camp anytime soon. It’s getting hostile with Luke leaving,” Nico starts, and Percy cringes at his words. “And we haven’t been able to find him yet,” he adds. “More people are coming forward who agree and they want the kid dead.”

Annabeth reaches her arms out to take their son back. And in all this time he’s still sleeping so peacefully, face so young and unburdened. “He hasn’t done anything,” Annabeth says, all defensive. “He’s hardly even been born for a day.” Her hands start to shake slightly and Percy moves his subtly to help her support the baby’s neck better.

“Annabeth, I won’t let anything happen to him,” Percy promises. He keeps his voice serious, hoping his words still meant anything to her at this point. She looks at him, eyes hard and unforgiving. She shouldn’t have to deal with this panic right now. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of it. But it all seems too late. They’re way past that.

“What did Luke do?” She asks him, eyebrows scrunched and breaths coming out uneven. Percy found that Annabeth would cling onto any semblance of a person’s care, no matter how small. She’d hold on tight and try to hide how easily she felt betrayal to protect herself. She was sensitive to others around her. This would be devastating to Annabeth. She deserved to know but he would’ve liked to feel as if he could protect her from it, even if it was only for a day.

“Annabeth,” Piper says, voice all smooth and confident. She moves to brush hair out of Annabeth’s face while she speaks. “You must be exhausted. You should sleep.” And the words settle over Percy so heavily, almost like a blanket and he thinks he may feel asleep right then and there. He could sleep and he’d never have to worry about another thing. Percy knew Annabeth wouldn’t appreciate Piper’s charmspeak being used on her. But for now, it seems she’s close to sleep. “There’s nothing for you to worry about right now. Your son is safe.”

“His name is June,” Annabeth mumbles, before drifting off once more on his shoulder.
-
It’s only a year later when they come for him.

He is still so tiny, with a thick curly head of dark hair and a cute little nose. His eyes are dark brown and Annabeth wonders where he got them from.

Her son isn’t extraordinary. He has no powers and he’s a bit tiny for his age, but still, none of it matters to her. Perhaps he is a disappointment to the gods, but Annabeth can hardly even think of that possibility. She thinks her and June are a bit the same that way. But his mother would never look down on him. Annabeth knows he’s extraordinary just for existing.

She never wanted to be a mother. She knew from a young age what her destiny had in store for her. Still, she never felt the need to bring new life into this world and hold it close till they eventually and inevitably parted. Except when she looks at her son, she can’t feel any regret. And it is a pure relief because, in all honesty, she was afraid she wouldn’t know how to love him properly. Although she doesn’t worry about that now, with the baby on her hip, cheeks tinted pink from the cold. He’s still bundled up in his little bear hat and the thick, warm coat that Percy had picked out for him.

Annabeth puts him down for a nap. She places him into his crib, glancing over his sleeping face. It’s the perfect combination of her and Percy’s. Sometimes she likes to watch him. Annabeth stays for a moment to examine his features and the way his tiny hands curl into fists. She brushes his hair back gently, feeling the texture of his curls against her fingers.

It isn’t till almost an hour later that she hears him begin to fuss from the other room. And she knows there’s something wrong immediately. She’s never heard June cry this way before. The sound is startling, but as soon as she turns the corner into the room, he’s already calmed back to sleep.

A woman stands in the nursery, holding him against her chest with a certain tenderness. Annabeth isn’t scared when sees, because she can tell it’s Hera immediately.

“What are you doing?” She asks, and Annabeth doesn’t mean for it to come out so panicked and nasty.

“He is such a lovely boy,” is all she says. “Not perfect though.”

“What are you doing,” Annabeth repeats, and this time, she’s pissed. She doesn’t like anyone examining her son like this. She doesn’t want him to be perceived negatively by Hera who literally threw away her own child.

“I am here to take him with me. It seems there are dangers that your son must be kept from.” She says the words all calm, like it’s obvious. Annabeth sees red. “A bit small, is he not?”

“What?” Annabeth asks, because she can’t comprehend the possibility of what this goddess is telling her. The breath has been knocked from her chest by a single sentence.

“He needs protection,” Hera says simply, still watching the baby. “He must learn and grow in a place that’s more suitable.” What she really meant to say was that June wasn’t good enough. He is hardly a year old. Annabeth is sick.

“What he needs is to be with his mother,” she tells her, practically hysterical. “He needs to be with us.” The gods could teach June all they wanted of training and honor but he had to know love. He’d think she’d abandoned him.

“Is that what he needs or you need, dear,” Hera asks and Annabeth seethes. Then she takes in a shaky breath. She wants to believe she could protect her own son, but perhaps she really was over her head. Maybe Hera was right. Annabeth never thought she was an indecisive person. She could evaluate a situation and make her choice. But when it came to making decisions for June, Annabeth seemed to panic and freeze. She didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. So much of learning to parent had been following her gut, and working with Percy. Because that’s what they’d been since the beginning; partners. And that’s what they were always intended to be, as people and as parents. And it doesn’t matter that he isn’t here because it’s so undeniably clear what he would think. And she agrees.

“Don’t patronize me,” she says with shining eyes. “I did everything you asked me to.” It’s like a betrayal from an entire system. It’s so sudden and surprising and every word is desperate and filled with hurt. It’s worse than her father’s betrayal or Luke’s. “You can’t take him from me.”

“Do you wish to see the end of the world? Do you wish to see your child dead?” Annabeth suddenly feels like a spoiled child being reprimanded. In her right mind, she knows her fury is justified. Annabeth is scared to admit that, because then maybe Percy was right all along and she’d just been another person to cast him aside.

“Please don’t take him,” she begs, because there’s no way she could go against a goddess. Hera feels so powerful before her, gripping her child as if he belongs to her and not Annabeth.

“You are an ungrateful child,” Hera says, like Annabeth is despicable. Like she’s somebody to look down upon. And all at the same time she holds Annabeth’s baby in her arms with no intent to give him back. She feels tears sting her eyes.

Annabeth doesn’t realize the last time she would hold her son was that day. They’re gone in a moment and a piece of Annabeth leaves with them. June had been there a minute ago, an hour ago, a day ago. And now he was simply gone.

Annabeth pushes a lamp from the dresser in anger, frustrated tears streaking her cheeks.

She screams.
-
Annabeth Chase is twenty-four when she’s stricken by realization.

“You better not, Percy,” she tells him. Her voice is shaky and her eyes are misty. “You better not fucking do this.” She holds his chin in her hand to force their eyes to meet. Still, she’s sure he wouldn’t pull away from her gaze even if she let go. Her grip was light even and still he stayed there, at the mercy of her desperation. “Don’t do this to our family.” Her eyes are determined and there’s a sort of anger in her tone that is meant to push him to see reason. It doesn’t. “Please,” she begs instead. They could get June back. They could keep him safe and be together and nothing would change. Percy wouldn’t have to fight and he wouldn’t have to lose a piece of himself every moment that passed.

There wasn’t enough of that light in his pretty, green eyes to last that long.

“I’m going to do this for you,” he tells her. And there’s no swaying him now. He moves his hand to grip her wrists gently. He seems so serene now, here and like this after what they’ve been through the past couple of weeks. “And for June,” he adds and anger flares in her eyes. Annabeth loved her baby more than anything. He was perfect and cared for and such a happy child. And she loved him. She cherished his life more than her own Annabeth knew she’d surely die for him. It was a fact as simple as grass being green or the sky being blue. Percy’s agenda interwoven with the gods had been thrown in her face her whole life like some sick joke. Like she was a passing side character in his story.

She didn’t want to accept that anymore. It was making her bitter.

He needs to see reason. He needed priorities. Percy had such a huge heart and he always felt so strongly.

“Don’t,” she grits out. She thinks she might hate him now. She thinks she might resent him for all his selfishness. For breaking his promise. “Don’t use us as an excuse. I should have known better.” Annabeth sucks in a deep and shuddering breath. “You’ve only ever devoted yourself to your anger.” But there isn’t any fury in her voice. She’s not mad, just sad and a bit lost. All her life Annabeth was meant for this, to be theirs. And now that they’re gone, she is nobody. All Annabeth wants now is to protect her son, even if that means being away from him.

She is sure her words hurt him, digging into his flesh all jagged and dull. The dread had been building up underneath the surface for so long that now that the words were out, there was nothing left to feel besides devastating emptiness. Emptiness like she’s never felt before. Not when her mother left her or her father traded her in. Not when he started his new family or when she was a child, all alone with nothing but the cold steel of a hammer to keep her company. Not when Thalia had died and she’d laid under the corpse, still warm and heavy against her.

“Nobody is looking out for our family,” he tells her. He doesn’t have to, because of course she knows that already. “There’s only us. And if I have to work with Luke to get him back, then I will.”

“And then what?” Annabeth asks. It wasn't as if Luke cared for their baby. They’d all much rather see him dead. Couldn’t he understand how horribly impulsive this would be. Only Percy and Annabeth cared for June as an individual.

Annabeth will never be enough for him. Nothing and nobody would.

It didn’t matter that he loved her and it didn’t matter that he would protect her with his life. It didn’t matter that he told her he wanted her and only her over and over again. Annabeth would never be enough and she knew that with each ache of her pounding, tired heart. She was too old to keep chasing this. To keep chasing him. She knew all of this.

How could one person be enough for somebody who’s happiness derived from tearing down the very heavens that she had been born from.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, pulling her close by the wrist. Annabeth thinks about pulling away. Surely, he would let her go now if that’s what she wanted. Because Annabeth has always been so strong-willed and independent till it came to him. Here she was, talking him off this high ledge, and he seemed so calm to her hysterical pleas. “I’m going to get our baby back.”

In all this time, Annabeth had always put her child before herself. Even when he was nothing more than a mere prophecy and a troublesome thought that hung over her head. He was meant to save Olympus, and maybe Percy was meant to destroy it. She couldn’t see an outcome where she would be able to protect them both. It seemed too terrible to contemplate.

She’s sure he’ll lose if he goes against the gods. He could die and be sent to hell or he could win and become a king of sorts, still, that was unclear to her at this point. What he’ll truly lose was himself, of this she’s certain. Annabeth had tried to keep him together all this time and maybe she had neglected herself. She’d forgotten to put up walls in such a desperate attempt to tear his own down; in an attempt to hold him together. Annabeth has never known a version of Percy who hadn’t been so consumed by hate. And at the same time, he’d still been caring and loving and sweet. He was a good father and husband and her mind couldn’t be swayed on the subject. She loved him despite his hate.

“Don’t,” she tells him, voice hushed. She thinks about begging and knows her voice already sounds desperate enough for the situation to be defined in that light. She is hardly above any of it at this point. “Please. Please. We’ll figure this out together.”

“It’s okay,” he just says again, almost like a promise. Like a goodbye. Annabeth can’t stand to hear it. She had been a child once. She was a mother, and she was a wife. She was a daughter of a goddess. And in all this time it was so fucking hard to decipher her individuality. Who was she if all these people left her behind?

And even now, the steady tone of his voice and the way he holds her with a hand pressed against her spine, she already knows she’s lost him.

They had been strangers. They were partners. They were friends then something more. They were lovers and fiancés and husband and wife. They were parents. And now, it seemed they would be enemies.

Annabeth doesn’t cry.