Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hello, little brother,” Triton’s head emerged from the sea foam, his grin sly, “How are you?”

“Fine,” Percy answered, kicking at the coarse sand. If his reply was terse, neither of them mentioned it.

“Father expects you at his birthday celebrations tonight,” he added, “You’re in charge of presents.”

Percy gritted his teeth; of course he’d be tasked to find a gift for the god who already had everything. “Fine.”

Triton nodded, sinking beneath the waves wordlessly. Percy sighed, breathing in the salt air of Montauk beach, tracing little circles in the sand. It was just before sunrise, and the coast was empty save for a few gulls hoping to score. He loved these empty mornings, savored them with all his being.

“Hey!” A bright voice jarred him from his thoughts, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a neon yellow flip flop?”

Percy blinked at the girl in front of him, shaking his head with an incredulous glance. “Um, why would you own a neon yellow flip flop?”

She winked, giving him a small smile like his question was the silliest thing in the world. Instead she stuck out her hand, her dark hair whipping in the wind. “I’m Avery.”

“Percy.” He shook her hand, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, but they flickered with mischief.

“Well, I’ll just have to go without it,” Avery crossed her arms, “Care for a walk? I’ll poke around some more.”

Percy, you’re a god. Fate has strung threads for us that can never be intertwined.

Stormy gray flashed in his mind, and anger with the intensity of acid rain. Percy glanced up again at Avery, warring with himself. It’s only a walk. I’m aiding a mortal with the search for her…lost flip flop. Quite a noble task.

“Okay,” he finally said, and her face broke into a grin. They spent the morning walking up and down the dunes, laughing and talking and staring as green met black (they never did find that flip flop).

“So,” Avery trailed off awkwardly, leaning against the door of her car, “You wanna grab lunch?”

I’m sorry, but I’ve given all that I have to give.

“Can’t,” Percy winced, “I have to go see my mom.”

“Can I give you my number?”

“I don’t really use cell-phones.”

“Are you staying with your mom this summer?”

“Uhhh.”

She froze, staring up at him in confusion. “So this was just a walk?”

It’s all just a fucking walk on the beach, isn’t it? You never take anything seriously, and I’m sick of you trying to crawl back.

“Yeah,” Percy paused apologetically, “A really good one, I swear. It’s just that…”

“It’s okay, I get it.” But she didn’t really, and she drove away with a hard lump in her throat.

He had only knocked once before the door flew open, and he was wrapped in a tight hug.

“Hey Mom,” he whispered, taking in her warmth. Her hair was streaked with gray, and her eyes were crinkled, and she smelled like his favorite cookies. Were those glasses she was wearing?

“You look well.” She beamed, gesturing towards the girl beside her, “Caught Estelle just in time, she’s getting ready to move back to college.”

Percy faltered staring at Estelle, his heart sinking. “College? I visited a few months ago, and you were going to start kindergarten.”

“I think it's been more than a few months,” Estelle scoffed, her eyes flashing, “Glad I caught you before I left.”

Percy stared in disbelief at her. “I didn’t realize–”

“You look exactly the same,” she mumbled, “It’s almost like I’m the older one now.”

Percy knitted his brows at that. He didn’t know why his godly form put him at sixteen forever. He didn’t know why it took energy to alter his physical appearance into something impressive. Poseidon hadn’t been worried though; sometimes godly power took centuries to master.

Percy had felt apprehensive though, like his inability to use his magic meant that there was something wrong with him. What if he wasn’t a real god? What if it had all been some sort of a trick?

“What…What are you majoring in?”

“Computer science,” Estelle snorted, “Mom and Dad were convinced I’d do English, though. You should have seen their faces.”

“Huh, I figured you’d be nerdy.” Percy tilted his head. “I was set on marine biology for a while.”

“But gods don’t go to college,” Estelle guessed.

“I actually didn’t think I would be alive,” Percy corrected her, “And college didn’t seem like it was for me, anyway. Annabeth was the one–”

He coughed, shooting a glance towards his mom.

“Why don’t you have lunch with us?” Sally questioned, “Paul’s away at a teaching seminar, but I can totally whip whatever you guys feel like eating.”

At Estelle’s farewell lunch, he realized, I haven’t even been a part of her life at all. He suddenly realized there were two placemats set up at the table, with uneaten sandwiches. Percy suddenly had a vision of her growing up, being told tales about a brother she’d never meet. Maybe Sally had even promised that Percy would show up, but they’d given up long ago. Even now, she was staring at him as though he were an alien. He might as well have been.

“I actually have to be somewhere,” he forced a smile, “I just wanted to drop by and check on you guys.”

“Oh, okay.” Estelle turned away, absorbed within the pages of a book, “We’ll catch you next time.”

Sally’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes, and she lay a hand on Percy’s shoulder. He wondered how long she’d waited for him before she’d given up.

“You are always welcome here.”

“I know, mom,” he added, “I’ll visit soon, I promise.”

She frowned, silent for a few moments. “Well, you know Grover visited me a few days ago? Him and Juniper having kids! Oh, I still remember him from Yancy. I just can’t believe it.”

Percy didn’t answer, he’d fallen out of touch with Grover a while ago. Grover had been traveling the world, spreading Pan’s message, and they hadn’t spoken since.“I didn’t know that,” he finally said, clearing his throat, “I’m happy for him.”

“Percy–”

“It’s fine, Mom.”

Sally squeezed his hand. “Oh, honey. At least take some cookies before you go.”

Percy grabbed a bag, and disappeared before she could see his body shake with sobs.

“Annabeth.” Artemis’s voice was sharp, and she beckoned her forward.

“My lady,” Annabeth bowed low, feeling the radiating waves of power emanating from the goddess. It was always tricky, being so close to them, but Annabeth craved the electric feeling–as though her blessings of immortality grew stronger.

They were in a simple, straw hut, but the goddess was decked in a silvery cloak and gleaming tiara. Her fingers drummed against the side of her throne, one eyebrow raised in a menacing stare.

“Thalia wishes you might accompany her to Poseidon’s birthday soiree.” Artemis frowned, as though the word left a distaste in her mouth, “You are encouraged to bring gifts.”
“An honor,” Annabeth said swiftly, “Though I wonder if my lady might need my services elsewhere. I believe I might aid you better in another area.”

Artemis’s face darkened. “Patience, Annabeth. There are evil things stirring beneath the Earth, and I am called upon to investigate.”

“On Zeus’s orders?” Thalia stepped into the tent, the tips of her spiky hair an electric blue. Annabeth still marveled at the ease of her step, and the grace with which she had taken on the job. Zoë had been beloved among the other huntresses, but they’d accepted Thalia faster than she’d thought possible.

“Zeus believes we may lull the spirits to sleep,” the curves of Artemis’s mouth lifted, “I know better.”

“She’s sending us so Poseidon isn’t offended by her lack of presence,” Thalia explained, “We are to say she’s on a hunt.”

“Indeed,” Artemis said, “My lieutenant and her second.”

Annabeth furrowed her brows, letting out a little gasp. “You cannot mean–”

“Fifteen long years of service,” Artemis closed her eyes, “You have proven yourself, Annabeth. If Thalia should fall–”

“She won’t.” Annabeth said firmly, “I won’t let her. I cannot thank you enough, my lady. I will make you proud.”

Being Thalia’s second was an undisputed honor, and Annabeth could hardly believe it was being given to her. She had never dreamed that Artemis saw her as a potential lieutenant, and the thought made her insides swirl. Annabeth imagined telling her father of the news, imagined seeing his face light up even if he had no idea what was making her happy.

She remembered telling him that she’d been given the honor to redecorate Olympus, that she’d be the one to redesign the pillars.

“My name on all of Olympus,” she’d told him, “Something to last forever.”

“My Annabeth,” he’d said, like she’d brought him all the pride in the world.

It wasn’t too much after that she’d joined the Hunters. Her father’s stricken expression still floated in her mind, even if he had covered it up with a smile. She remembered waving goodbye as Artemis picked her up on a chariot, excited for a new life. But she missed them; she would always miss them.

She hadn’t seen her family in a long time, and she ached to rush to her father with happy news like a small child. To tell everything that she had been through since then. I’m Thalia’s second, she realized giddily, I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.

“Hmm,” Artemis hesitated, giving her a hard look, “I trust that Percy Jackson will not be an issue?”

If the mention of his name threw her off, Annabeth didn’t show it. “My lady,” she bowed again, her face glowing like the moon,“I have made my pledge, and I will fulfill it till the day I fall. Have I ever forsaken you?”

“Fine,” Artemis said, “Go, the soiree is tonight, you mustn't be late. And remember, you are not only representing a goddess, you are representing me.”

“Yes my lady,” Thalia and Annabeth received their blessings, deftly slipping out of the tent.

The tent had been lit by the blazing hearth, and Annabeth shivered as they stepped into the cool night air. The stars glittered like little diamonds, and she fell into sidestep alongside Thalia across the gravelly path.

“A soiree,” Thalia grumbled, “Of course we have to attend a soiree, gross.”

“We haven’t been to Olympus in a while,” Annabeth pointed out, “It might be fun. I do have to update a few buildings while I’m there.”

“Of course, you’re working,” Thalia suddenly stopped, and Annabeth glanced back. “Oh my gods, Percy is going to be there.”

“Okay.”

“Annabeth.”

“I haven’t seen him in fifteen years, Thalia.” Her voice was laced with frustration. “What do you want me to say?”

“He was your best friend.” Thalia waved down a cab. “It’s okay to feel…nervous. It’s okay to feel other things too, you can tell me.”

“I’m not nervous, and he isn’t my best friend anymore.” Annabeth plopped down on the seat, Thalia falling after her.

“But you’re still angry.” Thalia’s voice was quiet, as though she was bracing for Annabeth’s yells.

“I made a mistake, Annabeth.” They’d been at Olympus, hidden behind a tall pillar. “I should have been there, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“I know you wanted to be there,” she’d choked out, her words bitter, “I also know that you weren’t there, Percy.”

“Look, I swear I’ll make it up to you. We can go to Paris, wherever you want–”

“My birthday,” she’d screamed, “You can’t make it up to me, it comes once a year.”

“Beth-”

“It isn’t just that,” she’d said coolly, “It’s everything else. You’re forgetting things, and I’m not a priority anymore.”

“Annabeth,” Thalia’s voice rang in her ears, “Annabeth, we’re here.”

She forced herself to the present, eyeing the Empire State Building, butterflies fluttering within the depths of her stomach.

Chapter Text

Annabeth followed behind Thalia with a nervous smile, nodding and bowing as they snaked their way through the roaring crowd. Olympus was alive; minor gods and godesses fluttering through verandas, their cheeks rosy from wine. They drank and they danced, eyes glittering gold and fabrics shimmering with the movement. Some were horned and others scaled, but their smiles were cruel in only the way the divine can be. 

Annabeth felt the sharp tug in her stomach before she registered it, and it was only Thalia’s quick squeeze that prevented her from joining the fray. She suddenly felt sick, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

“I almost…” She trailed off, glancing towards Thalia, “I don’t deserve to be your second.”

“It’s okay, Annabeth. It can happen to the best of us if we’re unsuspecting.” She wrinkled her nose, “Although it does feel more nauseating today. Let’s just go the throne room.” 

Annabeth sighed, forcing a smile. It wasn’t like her to lose focus so easily, and she’d have hoped her years in the hunt might have granted her immunity to the worlds ‘temptations’. It was especially dangerous for demigods, who felt a pull but often went insane deep within the circles. But resisting was always more difficult for some, and she hadn’t exactly been in the best mental state. 

The throne room was a lot quieter than the dances outside, and all the gods were seated, engaging in low titters. 

“I announce myself Thalia Grace,” Thalia’s voice rang impressively, “First lieutenant of the Hunters, here on behalf of my lady.” 

“Artemis couldn’t make it?” Zeus eyed his daughter suspiciously, “She isn’t out hunting is she?” 

“I’m afraid she was called upon,” Thalia said solemnly, “She sends her regrets.”

“Artemis does always find a way to avoid the revels,” Poseidon said with a laugh, “Very well, what have you brought me, little ones?” 

Annabeth met his gaze, ignoring the sharp pang that washed over her. His sea-green eyes were calm today, and he looked so much like…

“My lady has gifted you pearls of moonlight,” Thalia answered, bowing low, and Annabeth followed suit. “We hope you appreciate them.” 

Annabeth bit back a snort. For Artemis, moonlight was the equivalent of a gift-card–as she never knew what to get for someone’s birthday. Poseidon thanked them, though she noticed his smile was a little too wide and he quickly tossed the package aside. 

She looked toward her mother, who looked regal as ever. The grin stretched across her face looked more like a grimace, and Annabeth wondered if Zeus had forced her to remain civil. To be fair, all the Olympian gods looked slightly worn, and none of them had joined the revels. Thalia sent her a significant look, and the two of them awkwardly made their way to sit beneath Artemis’s chair. 

“What now,” she whispered, “We sit here for the rest of the night?” 

“I guess,” Thalia shrugged, and then added in an undertone, “You could talk to your mom.” 

“Oh.” 

It wasn’t that Annabeth didn’t want to talk to her mom, it was just that they hadn’t spoken in a long time. But, she could bridge the gap, and it would be easier now that she was sort of immortal. The gods had dissolved into chatter once more, and Annabeth walked toward’s her mother’s throne. She tugged at her silvery parka, suddenly feeling like a twelve year old demigod. I am a hunter of Artemis, she reminded herself, I am Thalia’s second . 

“Mom.” The word felt unfamiliar on her tongue, and she winced. 

“Annabeth.” Athena’s eyes were stormy, “My Annabeth, a hunter of Artemis.”

“I hope to have made you proud,” Annabeth swallowed, “I keep you in my mind so that I may make wise choices always.” 

Athena’s eyes softened, and Annabeth felt her heart lurch for her mother’s approval. 

But then her eyes darkened, and her voice lashed out like a whip. “Proud,” she sneered, “You have failed me Annabeth, and I am ashamed to call you my daughter. They wrong me and you did accept it. I do not know which hurt me more.” 

“Mother?” Hot tears pin pricked her eyes, and she growled in frustration. She was too old to be crying over something like this. 

“Avenge me,” Athena snapped, “Find the mark of Athena and avenge me.” 

Annabeth’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she stomped away to Thalia in anger. 

“My mother is insane.” 

“You get in a fight?” 

“Something like that,” Annabeth frowned, suddenly feeling a little coin within her closed fist, “She seems unlike herself.” 

“Aw, honey,” Aphrodite stood beside them, “She’s been like that for days, I think she couldn’t stand Poseidon getting celebrated for anything. You know how she gets.”

“I don’t think she was mad about that. She was saying how she needed to be avenged.” 

“Hm.” Aphrodite tilted her head. “I bet she really needs one of those spa treatments, I’ve been trying to get her to go–” 

“She’s gone,” Thalia suddenly pointed, and Annabeth looked to see an empty throne. 

“We’ll speak to her when she gets back,” Aphrodite promised, and Annabeth nodded gratefully. 

Her and Thalia were quiet for the rest of the evening, and different gods and godesses popped in to well wish Poseidon. Left alone with her thoughts, she felt herself stew in all that Athena had said. maybe i’m not good enough

Thalia was twirling a lock of her hair, and then blew a tuft out of her eyes. She’d kept the spiky look all these years, though she’d dyed the tips silver recently. 

“I think you should dye your hair,” Thalia said abruptly, as though she knew what Annabeth was thinking, “I hate the grey streak.” 

“It reminds me of when you came to save me,” Annabeth said, “Of the time I first met Artemis.” Although there were other things associated with the streak, those things were better left unsaid. 

Thalia rolled her eyes at that, shooting Annabeth an ‘i’m so bored’ look. 

“Thalia,” Annabeth chided, “You can't–” 

“Dad,” a familiar voice rolled across the room in waves, sending a chill down Annabeth’s spine, “Happy Birthday.”

“Percy!” Poseidon’s voice filled with excitement, and he walked off his throne to embrace his son, “I was worried you couldn’t make it.” 

“Relax,” Percy grinned, “I was just picking up your gift.” 

Percy’s eyes roved over the Olympians, falling upon Annabeth and then widening. He still looked sixteen, with wild hair and green eyes and muscles just beginning to define. She knew she still looked sixteen too, but she’d assumed he’d have found his godly form by now. Sure, she didn’t expect the fangs and the gold eyes, but she hadn’t expected him to look so human. He looked as though he’d walked out of her memories, but she forced a smile. 

His gaze was unrelenting, and he nodded back, his mouth pressed in a hard line. So, they’d be ignoring each other…which Annabeth was completely fine with. 

“Well, son,” Poseidon was saying, “Enjoy the revels, the night is young!” 

“Tired already, Dad,” Percy teased. 

“I am getting old,” Poseidon shook his head with a laugh, though his smile was thin.

Percy noticed it too, and his eyes narrowed. “You are okay?” 

“Nonsense, Percy. Gods do not get sick, as you very well know.” 

“Of course,” he hesitated, “I’m not exactly in the mood for revels at the moment, either. Might I… go to Camp Half-Blood?” 

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at that, already thinking about Chiron and Grover and the other campers. Except, she realized with a pang, Grover was an adult now. She’d gotten the card about his baby a few months ago. 

She looked back toward Poseidon, who was gesturing towards her. She felt her cheeks turn pink, and looked toward Thalia, who seemed oblivious. Percy looked uncomfortable, but he made his way toward her, hands buried in pockets. 

“Hey Annabeth,” he let out a breath, drawing out her name. 

“Hi.” She wanted to bury herself in a deep hole, and suddenly wished she’d never showed up here at all.

“I’m going to Camp Half-Blood, maybe to see Chiron.” 

“That sounds nice,” she mumbled. 

“You could come too,” Percy offered, “I bet you haven’t been to camp in a while. It’s kinda fun to hear all the legends” 

“Oh, I went there recently,” Thalia jumped in, “You know, for the recruitment program.” 

“How’s that going?” He looked toward her seriously. “The whole no-boys thing?” 

“Peaceful. You wouldn’t know how much work we get done,” Thalia stuck her tongue out, and Annabeth felt a stab of envy. 

“So you’re coming,” Percy looked at Annabeth, “Both of you?” 

“Yes, we’re very bored,” Thalia scoffed, “Lead the way Kelp Head.” 

That sent Percy into a long rant about how he wasn’t the god of kelp and that he’d appreciate it very much if Thalia would stop ruining his reputation on her hunts. Thalia promised to do no such thing, and Annabeth stayed silent the whole time. They were riding in a mortal taxi, and she was sure the driver thought they were high on something. 

“Hey,” Thalia tapped her softly, “You all good Annabeth? You let me know if I need to hate him, okay?” 

“No, I’m just being awkward,” she sighed, “He didn’t do anything wrong, you can talk to him.” 

Thalia looked troubled, but she nodded. “If you say so, ‘Beth.” 

They pulled up to the strawberry fields, and the taxi driver looked puzzled. “Are you sure you want to get off, there’s nothing here.” 

“We’re sure,” Percy said coolly, “Thank you so much.” 

The three of them tumbled out, and Percy fished out some mortal cash to pay the man. Thalia looked wonderingly at her tree, and Annabeth realized how strange it must have been to see the very thing she used to be. As they stepped within the barriers of camp, Annabeth felt a wistfulness for the days of the past. 

A familiar face trotted up towards them, and Annabeth raced to meet her mentor. 

“Chiron,” she gasped, “It has been far too long.” 

“Indeed.” His smile was warm, and his tone steadying. “I have missed you at camp Annabeth, but you have gone on to great things. I tell them stories about you. About both of you.” 

He looked toward Percy with an encouraging nod, and Annabeth felt the corners of her mouth turn up. “We made a pretty good team back then, huh?” 

Percy’s smile was genuine, accepting her peace offering. “Yeah. I remember it all, I remember it all really well.” 

“How long are you two at camp?” Chiron inquired. 

“Probably just today,” Annabeth glanced back at Thalia, “Artemis is away on a hunt, and we probably need to get back soon.” 

“I have a few things I need to deal with,” Percy groaned, with a slight grimace, “Undersea politics are no joke.” 

The three of them had a late dinner by the brazier, singing songs by the campfire with the rest of camp. Annabeth could sense curious stares on her, and whispers that followed her everywhere she went. She caught ‘savior of olympus’ and ‘huntress’ and felt her cheeks warm. Of course, she didn’t feel like the saviour they said she was, but the praise was a welcome ego boost. 

“Percy!?” An incredulous voice came from the Big House, and Annabeth whipped her head to see a redheaded woman wearing paint-splattered overalls.

“Rachel?” Percy looked flabbergasted, but he swept her up in a hug. She was so much older now, her free curls now chopped off into a short bob. Her face was a lot sharper now, and she’d gotten a lot taller. 

“Gods, you’re so much older than us now.” Annabeth was next in the hugging line-up, and Rachel was at a complete loss. 

“Aw, you look like babies.” She nodded at Thalia with a smile. “Hi, Lieutenant.” 

“Hi Oracle,” Thalia grinned, “Make any prophecies lately?” 

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing too crazy for Camp Half-Blood. And no more Great Prophecies, besides that one from like 20 years ago.” 

“It hasn’t come true yet?” Annabeth raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” Rachel shrugged, “Trust me, I’d know. Chiron thinks it might not even be within our lifetimes, but you never know.” 

Annabeth hoped so, one Great Prophecy was certainly enough for a lifetime. Percy looked like he was thinking the same thing, and he peppered Rachel with more questions. She’d gotten her arts degree from NYU, and she was currently teaching it at the local community college. 

“Of course I do my protests too.” 

“You still cover yourself up in silver and gold?” Percy chuckled. 

“Oh my gods, I remember that.” Annabeth closed her eyes, “I was such a bitch back then.” 

“No worries,” Rachel said breezily, “You were what? Fifteen? Besides, I enjoyed the challenge, and you like me now, right? No harm no foul.” 

Annabeth felt like she could have talked to Rachel forever, but Chiron’s call for curfew sent them scrambling towards their cabins. She made her way over to Athena, but Thalia nudged her towards Artemis’s cabin. 

“Oops,” she blushed sheepishly, and Thalia said the ambrosia had gone to her head. 

“ Annabeth ,” Rachel rasped, and she felt her stomach fall. 

“Shit.” 

Seven halfbloods shall answer the call

To storm or fire the world must fall

An oath to keep with a final breath

And foes bear arms to the doors of death 

Percy had caught Rachel as she’d stumbled, and his face was filled with terror. 

Wisdom’s daugher walks alone, the Mark of Athena burns through Rome

Forsake her vows to the goddess of the moon, or the gods of Olympus meet their doom

An enemy awaits as she quests, and she will fall far—

Rachel burst into a sudden fit of coughing, green smoke unfurling from her eyes. 

“I’m…” Annabeth was horrified, “I’m one of the seven?” 

“Correct,” Chiron was grim, “And I believe the second great prophecy has begun.”

Chapter Text

Percy gritted his teeth, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. The sun had barely poked out of the horizon, bathing the camp in a soft, pink light. He and Annabeth and Thalia had agreed to meet to discuss everything that had happened last night. Annabeth had wanted to discuss it then, but she’d been so pale that Percy insisted they speak the next morning. 

“I guess I could wake them up,” he muttered half-heartedly, casting a wary look towards the Artemis cabin. He didn’t trust Artemis not to have cast any anti-men enchantments over them, and he’d rather not spend his energy trying to revert back from a jackalope. 

Just as he was mustering up his strength, he saw the hood of a parka emerge from over the top of the hill. Thalia was grimacing, her eyes crackling with electricity and her fists balled up. 

“Thalia,” Percy frowned, fearing the worst, “Where’s Annabeth?” 

Thalia let out a little gasp, her eyes widened. “Gone.” 

Percy froze, shaking his head. “No, she can’t be…maybe she’s gone on a walk?” 

“All her stuff is still here,” Thalia choked out, as though on the verge of tears, “Her parka, and her bow and arrow. She wouldn’t have gone on a walk, not when we had to discuss something.” 

“I know,” Percy said solemnly, finally grasping the gravity of the situation, “I just wish she’d walk over the Big House Hill or something.” 

“I’ve been looking for her for an hour. It’s like she just vanished into thin air,” Thalia shivered, “I’m really scared Percy, I think something horrible happened to her.” 

“Look, I’m going to go to Olympus,” Percy assured her, “If something’s afoot, my dad can tell me. I’ll Iris Message you.” 

“Okay,” Thalia nodded, “Artemis isn’t back from her hunt yet, but I’ll take a group of Hunters with me to look for Annabeth. With our wolves, I’m sure we’ll be able to find her.” 

Percy furrowed his brows, a shadowy feeling of apprehension crawling up his spine. He knew this had something to do with the Great Prophecy, but he hadn’t expected Annabeth to vanish. Not when she’d just offered him an olive branch, not when she could finally look at him without screaming. Resigned, he walked toward the breakfast hall, trying to ignore the blatant stares that followed him. Camp was different now; no one from the first war was even around anymore, and no one was willing to treat him like a normal person. 

He’d never admit it, but he almost missed Clarisse stuffing his head into toilets. The kids at camp would just stare at him with reverence, and it made him want to scream. Percy still felt sixteen, on edge at the prospect of a terrifying future, but it felt like everybody else had already moved on. 

He muttered a quick good-bye to Chiron, before teleporting back to Olympus. If he’d thought his father looked unwell then, it was nothing compared to the craggy, weathered lines Poseidon sported on his face. His posture was slightly drooped, and his eyes were dull with exhaustion. 

“Dad,” Percy said, rushing to his father’s side, “What happened, are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” he smiled weakly, “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Annabeth’s missing,” Percy said carefully, “I just…I know I’m not supposed to interfere.” 

Poseidon hesitated a moment, so quick that Percy almost missed it. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, son.” 

“You’re lying.”

“He doesn’t trust you not to interfere,” Zeus said grumpily. He was clutching his temples, his outfit flickering between his normal suit and a toga. “I don’t either.” 

“But—” 

“Quiet,” Zeus snapped, “I’m having a massive headache, and that Artemis is nowhere to be found. Anyway, I’m closing Olympus…at least until the gods are restored to

themselves.” 

“Closing Olympus?” Percy raised an eyebrow, “You can’t do that, what about all the promises you made from the first war?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Zeus insisted, “There are bigger things at stake than the feelings of demigods. If we play our cards right, we may lull the evils to sleep. All that is left is you.” 

Percy squinted in confusion. “Huh?” 

“I am shutting Olympus down for all but the twelve Olympians. You may stay with your father, but if you leave now, I cannot allow you back.”

Zeus’s tone was challenging, and Percy glared back. He wasn’t going to get any information out of these gods, and sitting in Olympus wasn’t going to help anyone. 

“Wait,” he paused, looking toward Hera’s throne, “Where is she?” 

For the first time, Zeus looked afraid, but he quickly composed himself. “Who cares? She is one of the twelve and has agency to go where she may.” 

“Alright,” Percy frowned, “I’m heading out, you can’t keep me here.” 

“Very well,” Zeus said lightly, though his eyes flickered with anger, “You may go.” 

Percy cast a wary glance back at his father and Zeus, a swirling pit of anticipation settling in his stomach. Wherever he was heading next, he was heading alone. 

Percy decided to head back to his mother’s house, suddenly dreading the visit. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, raising his hand to knock on the door. 

His mother opened the door, her eyes wide with surprise. She was stirring a bowl of blue batter, her hair pinned up in a bun and face splattered with splotches of flour. 

“Percy?” Sally broke into a grin, setting the bowl down to wrap him in a tight hug, “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” 

“Blue cookies,” Percy guessed with a laugh, shaking his head.

“I was thinking of you,” Sally said ruefully, tousling his hair, “I can’t believe you dropped by. You have to stay and have dinner with me and Paul.” 

“Of course, mom,” Percy took a quick lick of the batter, “Mmm. So good, I think you’ve outdone yourself.” 

It was the three of them at the dinner table, and Percy couldn’t help but marvel at the way Paul and Sally fit. Paul would jump in with one of those jokes only teachers found funny, and Sally would fall into fits of laughter, and Percy sat there, the goofiest smile on his face. Gods, he hadn’t had a real family meal in a really long time. 

Sally seemed to guess what he was thinking, because she patted his hand. 

“You know, your bedroom’s free. Estelle borrowed it for a bit, but she’s off to college now, so it’s all yours.” 

Percy pressed his hands together, his voice earnest. “Really? I don’t exactly have a place at the moment.” 

Sally’s eyes shone. “Percy, of course. ”

It only took another hour for the rest of the truth to spill out. He talked about his father’s birthday, about meeting Annabeth again, and about losing her. Everything about Olympus tumbled out of his mouth, of his father’s lies and Zeus’s stubbornness. 

“And I’m just not supposed to interfere at all ,” he sobbed, “I’m just supposed to watch them all die and be okay with it. I’m just supposed to be all alone. ” 

“Oh, baby.” Sally sighed, deeply. Paul squeezed his shoulder, and he let out all the sobs he’d been holding in for days. His body shook with the force, and he was heaving hard, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot. 

“It’s good to have a cry sometimes,” Paul leaned against him, “It’s good for the soul, soothes some of those feelings out.” 

“I just don’t know what to do about the Great Prophecy,” Percy confessed, “I’m just supposed to sit and observe.” 

Sally gave him a sympathetic look. “Percy, I’m not in your world and I’ve never wanted to be. But for what it’s worth? You should always do what you think is the right thing to do, even if that means breaking some rules. Nothing is worth compromising yourself and your values.” 

Percy’s gaze hardened, her words sparking a distant memory. “You think I should look for Annabeth.” 

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Sally reminded him, “Whatever you decide, you can do it after a good night’s sleep, alright?” 

“Okay,” Percy resolved, “Fine by me.” 

The next months were a blur, and Percy could hardly remember them. He would spend his days searching, going to San Francisco awkwardly to visit Annabeth’s parents. That conversation hadn’t been fun, either. He’d compare notes with Thalia, and they’d both turn up empty. Artemis had returned from her hunt heavy-hearted, ordered by Zeus to remain on Olympus. She wasn’t supposed to have contact with her huntresses, but she’d authorized Thalia’s search and guided them as best as she could. Things were stirring under the Earth, Percy knew, and he had a sinking feeling the Queen of Olympus had something to do with it. 

But he was banned from going up to the Empire State Building as a minor god, and he hadn’t heard from his father since he’d left Olympus. Some days were easier than others, but others he couldn’t bring himself to breathe. 

“Your fatal flaw,” Grover had said in the few times he’d visited, “You can’t save everyone, Percy.” 

Percy had snapped at that. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.” 

“Actually,” Grover had paused, “I still have our empathy link…It’s fuzzy sometimes, but it's been stronger the last few months. Maybe because you’re more involved in

everything now.”

His face fell. “What? You still feel my emotions, even if I’m a god?” 

“I guess some bonds are stronger than anything,” Grover shrugged, and Percy gave him a watery smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you as much,” he finally said, “It’s no excuse, but I just…I couldn’t bear seeing everyone move on.” 

Grover nodded. “I can’t imagine what it’s like becoming a god. You hear the legends of Hercules, but you’re real .” 

They’d sat for hours, talking about Juniper and Grover’s daughter, Briar. Percy felt grounded with Grover, but a part of him always felt left behind. His mother would pop in once in a while, and then they’d renew their search for Annabeth. He hadn’t heard from Thalia in a few weeks, which worried him, but he hoped she was busy investigating a new lead. 

Percy had never been the best at using his godly powers, but his sight had completely vanished the last few months. He could still teleport, but he wasn’t able to find Annabeth, Thalia, or Grover by searching. It was almost as if some unforeseen mist was blocking him, and the thought made him shiver. What he really wanted was to go see his dad, but Olympus was still unfortunately closed.  

“I feel useless.” The words floated through his mind, unsaid for the fear that they would only become too real. 

Estelle came home a few times from college, excited and bubbly. She’d been apprehensive the first time he’d been at the apartment, but she’d quickly accepted his presence in their family. Percy no longer felt like the outsider in his own home, which was progress of a kind, but it felt like nothing compared to the rest of his problems. 

He closed his eyes, casting out his sight for Annabeth again. The stubborn mist clouded his mind—something was attempting to block him from seeing. He shifted his sights to Tyson instead, and the image cleared momentarily. Tyson was forging away underwater, humming to himself indisinctly. No sooner had he registered the image did it wash away, and Percy was left with a feeling of longing and wistfulness. 

A pity, you spend so much energy searching and searching when the answer has been in front of you. 

Percy’s eyes flew open, his fists balled up in defense. “Who is that? This isn’t funny.” 

A woman of dirt materialized in front of him, her eyes half-shut. Her skin was a deep green, her hair a braided crown of flowers. Dust swirled about her, and her cruel smile enhanced her deadly beauty. 

I have been watching you, Perseus. I had hoped to vanquish you easily, but it seems you have provided me a challenge. Still, I like challenges.

“Excuse me,” he sent a jet of water at the woman, but it just streamed through her. 

    Do the gods not anger you? They have taken everything from you, and they still do not consider you their equal. They shut you away from Olympus, and they still keep secrets. 

Percy faltered, and then shook his head. “Enough. You can’t poison my thoughts; you’re wasting your time.” 

I may not be able to harm you yet , but I am not wasting my time. In fact, I believe all is going exactly according to plan.

“Whatever, Dirt Lady.” Percy breathed hard, “I’d like to see you try.” 

You have many choices to make, and it is best if you do not antagonize me. Until we meet again, Perseus. And she vanished in a poof, sending dust particles skittering all over his floor. 

Percy felt a stab of worry, and he sprinted out of his room. What if the woman had made her way to Camp Half-Blood? He knew the camp had certain protections, but his experience had left him shaken. With a snap, he teleported to the borders of camp, running towards the Big House. 

“Chiron,” he called, “Rachel!” 

The entire camp was gathered around a trio of teenagers, and Chiron was frowing. “Chiron!” He called again, and the centaur turned around. 

 The teenagers were staring at him funny. One was a short, scrawny kid covered in grease stains. The other was a pretty girl dressed in a sleeveless chiffon dress, her makeup done to perfection, radiating charm. The last one, a tall blond with flashing blue eyes, was brandishing a gold spear. They were standing next to a dragon automaton, who was hissing and puffing smoke. Percy could faintly smell Tabasco sauce, and he threw his hands up in surprise. 

“Let me guess,” Percy glanced at Chiron, “Hephaestus, Aphrodite, and…” 

Percy shrugged, looking over the blond. 

“Zeus,” he answered tersely. He was clutching the remains of a tattered purple t-shirt, and he was casting Percy with a look of suspicion. “I’m Jason.” 

Chiron cleared his throat. “Ahem, yes. Jason is a son of Zeus.” 

Percy knew that Chiron was hiding something, knew from the nervous tap of his hoof or the unnatural cadence of his voice. He decided not to press—what was one more secret in the face of all that was being kept from him? Chiron steamrolled over introductions, and Percy tried not to shrink away at the sudden whispers that emanated from the campers. 

Jason looked panicked. “I’m so sorry. Are you here to bless us for our quest?” 

Percy swallowed, and then nodded. “Um, yeah. I bless your quest with all the, um, appropriate blessings.” 

The girl, Piper, looked less than impressed. “You can’t offer us more than that?” 

The other boy, Leo, nodded. “Yeah, man! I got us a whole dragon and you have some half blessing.”

Maybe it was the stress of the last eight months, or maybe the last fifteen years had made him cynical. Either way, Percy had had enough. 

“Yeah,” Percy said coldly, “That’s all I’ve got. You know how many quests I had to do before the gods gave me anything useful? Come back when you’ve done

something worthy of my blessing.” 

Piper looked taken aback, but the three of them instantly backed away, afraid. He could feel the waves of power ripple off of him, and suddenly felt a knot in his stomach. 

Chiron fixed him with a hard look, but Percy turned away. The camp muttered quiet good-byes to the trio, and Percy watched them fly away with a strange sense of longing. 

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he buried his face in his hands, “Gods, I’m a terrible person.” 

“I think you handled it exactly the way a god would,” Chiron said carefully, “With strength and power.” 

“Like a bully.” 

Chiron didn’t answer for a moment. “No word on Annabeth?” 

“No.” Percy told him about the dirt lady, trying to ignore the stricken expression on Chiron’s face. 

“I fear old patterns begin to repeat themselves.” The centaur’s face was long. “I’m afraid Zeus may not be able to lull her to sleep. Come Percy, now the preparations begin.”

Chapter Text

Annabeth had been running for nine weeks. Her legs ached, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse, but she couldn’t stop. Something was close behind her, all curvy talons and flickering tongues of poison. She felt her feet squelch in something, and winced—but animal droppings were the least of her problems. 

Curse you Hera . The words surfaced into thoughts, but they were gripping memories Annabeth couldn’t reach. She had no idea why she had issues with the Queen of the Heavens, and it didn’t really matter anymore. 

A long dart whistled past her ear, and Annabeth tugged her parka back into place and jogged faster. She was grateful for the silvery piece of clothing and the protection it had offered her, though it was long tattered and grimy. Annabeth shuddered to think what might have happened if she’d been without it. Sharp hisses echoed behind her, and a swirling pit of nausea cemented itself into her stomach. She was reaching the ends of her endurance, and she needed to find shelter before things took a turn for the worse. 

Annabeth willed herself to think positive thoughts, fighting to keep a ray of light firmly in her mind. The image of a boy momentarily flashed, all wild hair and crooked smiles and sea-green eyes. He’d been appearing in her dreams, soft remnants of a reality that seemed too far in the past. 

“Hello, dearie,” an old woman hobbled towards her, and Annabeth threw her fists in a fighting stance. She couldn’t be too careful. 

The woman looked offended at that, though not surprised. “Hmph, I should have known. Perhaps your kindness of spirit shall be better tested in my true form.” 

Annabeth watched the searing golden light envelop the woman in a cloudy mist, her heart pounding. She stepped forward younger, with a perfectly combed updo and a regal toga. 

“Hera.” She attempted to hide the malice in her voice. 

“No,” the goddess smiled, as though she were in on a joke, “Not Hera. Juno.” 

Annabeth squinted, but she couldn’t place the name. “I don’t understand.” 

“No,” Juno agreed, and Annabeth resisted the urge to glare at her crypticness, “You have a choice, dear Annabeth.” 

She raised an eyebrow as the goddess gestured towards the river. “Thanks for the cow shit, my lady.” 

“Consider it what you deserve,” Juno said sweetly, her eyes flashing, “Take me across the river to camp, to safety, to the future that awaits you.” 

“And if not?” 

“Oh, then you’ll die at the hands of the gorgons that have been after you. I must say, I didn’t think you’d survive!” Her tinkly laugh sent angry shivers down Annabeth’s spine. 

“The vote of confidence inspires me.” Annabeth’s voice was dry. 

“Indeed, though if you cross the Tiber river you will lose the blessings that have sustained you this far, little huntress.” 

Annabeth wrinkled her eyebrows at that, suddenly unsure. But the gorgons were fast approaching, and she had no desire to become their next meal. “Fine. Whatever it takes.” 

There were two children at the gate, a boy and a girl, dressed in full armor. Somehow, the sight didn’t surprise her. They looked at her curiously, at her frayed clothes and scars. The gorgons hissed behind her and the boy and girl startled with alarm. 

“Come on,” the boy said, drawing his spear clumsily. Annabeth could see him shaking. “We can help you!” 

Juno waggled her eyebrows at that, as though taunting her, and Annabeth was tempted to leave the goddess to the gorgons. 

She scooped up the goddess with strength she didn’t know she possessed, leaping into the river with a splash. The river was icier than she’d expected, chilling her down to the bone. Her breaths grew ragged from the cold, and her teeth chattered as she waded through the water. 

“This way,” the girl called, “I’m Hazel! That’s Frank.” 

Annabeth tossed Juno onto the riverbank, letting her body relax for the first time in weeks. She suddenly felt so much heavier, her movements clunky and breath shallow. Her head erupted into a splitting headache, and she whimpered in pain. 

Annabeth vaguely registered others coming around her, squads in full armor brandishing swords. One girl stood out compared to the rest, her dark hair framing her hard eyes. She wore a purple cape, and she looked at Annabeth as though she were a riddle she couldn’t crack. Her eyebrows were raised, clearly unimpressed. 

Annabeth tried to force herself to stand, but her legs were killing her and her lungs were on fire. 

“Ahh, it isn’t easy becoming mortal again,” Juno shook her head, “Not when immortality is what you’re used to.” 

The words left a sour taste in Annabeth’s mouth, and there were quiet gasps all around. “I’m mortal ?” 

“Hmm. Although, your oath was made upon the river Styx, so I wouldn’t suggest breaking it quite yet.” 

“My oath?”

The boy, Frank, and the girl, Hazel, were frowning and looking between them. The rest of the crowd knelt in respect, but Annabeth could only focus on how all her memories had disappeared. 

“I’ve said too much, blessed of Diana.” Juno shrugged, pausing. “Oh, and one more thing. The Feast of Fortune is fast approaching, and you will need to unleash Death for there to be any chance of your survival.” 

“What!” Annabeth was fuming. “You can’t just say something like that.” 

“Safe travels, Annabeth Chase,” Juno’s voice was pitying, “I really do wish you the best.” 

And then she vanished with a poof, leaving Annabeth coughing and staring into the wide expanse beyond. 

The hills were beautiful, peppered with green from fresh rain. She stared at them a few moments more, muscles still tense from all the weeks spent running. 

“Um.” Annabeth whirled around to see Hazel staring at her curiously, “Blessed of Diana? What does that mean?” 

“Diana doesn’t have children,” Frank said slowly, then flushed, “Not to say…I mean.” 

Annabeth didn’t answer; the truth was she had no idea who Diana was or why she had chosen to bless her. She tugged at the remains of her silver parka, as though the answer was maddeningly close, and the girl with the cape stepped forward. The rest fell into a hushed silence, waiting for her words. 

“Annabeth Chase,” she said slowly, “I am Reyna Ramirez–Arrellano, praetor of New Rome. You have been entrusted to us by a goddess, named the blessing of Diana. Normally good omens, but you also come with a warning of death.” 

She felt her brain on overdrive, and clenched her fists. “Juno is insane, I’m not bringing you death.”  

“You dare blaspheme against a goddess?” Reyna’s eyes widened, “You can barely stand yourself, why should I accept you within our camp?”

“Because…” Annabeth sighed, “ Because I was entrusted to you by a goddess. I can’t remember who I am or where I came from, but I do know that gods don’t just appear for no reason.” 

Reyna nodded, arms crossed. 

“I don’t know what this Feast of Fortune is, but Juno’s words sounded suspiciously like a quest,” Annabeth looked pleadingly towards her, “And I may not be her biggest fan, but we should think about what she’s said.” 

“Fine.” The praetor fixed her with an inscrutable look. “Here in New Rome, we judge you by your merits. You want to prove yourself? Let’s play a game.” 

The camp burst into titters until Reyna raised an arm to silence them. Graecus, outsider, traitor

“But war games are after dinner,” she added, “It’s time you and I had a talk, Annabeth Chase.” 

Annabeth prided herself on being intimidating; she’d been told her stormy eyes were sharper than daggers. But Reyna’s power was quiet, and Annabeth keenly felt her stare. The praetor was sitting on a tall throne, flanked by two dogs, one silver and the other gold. They bared their teeth, pawing the ground as though ready to pounce. 

“Tell me your story,” Reyna said finally, when they were alone, “Aurum and Argentum are good at sniffing out bullshit.” 

Annabeth steeled herself; she could not appear weak. Breathing in slowly, she told her most of what she could. Reyna looked alarmed at the mention of the gorgons that wouldn’t die, and her lips pursed as Annabeth tried to explain Juno’s presence.

The image of the boy with green eyes remained maddeningly firm in her brain, the only thing from her old life she could remember. She didn’t know exactly what he meant to her, but thinking of him sent little pinpricks of anxiety all over her. Needless to say, that was one memory she didn’t want to share with Reyna. 

She seemed to guess Annabeth was holding something back, but didn’t say anything.

“So, praetor,” Annabeth attempted to break the ice, “How did that happen?” 

Reyna’s face fell, and she looked beside the empty chair next to her. “There are always two praetors in Rome,” she said, “My second was Jason Grace.” 

She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. Annabeth could tell that talking about him was killing her. 

“It’s okay,” Annabeth hesitated, then squeezed Reyna’s hand quickly, “I totally get it. Some stuff is hard to talk about.” 

“No,” Reyna shook her head, “Jason and I grew up at camp together, and we were elected praetors last year. We’d always worked well as a team, but eight months ago he disappeared.”

Annabeth gave her a sympathetic glance. 

“I don’t want to believe he’s dead, which is why I’m pushing back the elections,” she continued, “But, some people grow restless. Some people seek to wrestle power away from me.” 

“I get it.” Annabeth nodded, “But you’re stronger than most people, I can tell. I know you’ll figure out what to do.” 

“I hope so,” Reyna’s stare grew cold, “Juno said you were the blessed one of Diana. She said you are immortal.” 

“Artemis,” Annabeth said quickly, “But my blessings were washed away by the Tiber. I am just a regular demigod now.” 

“Still,” Reyna said, “It would do you good to find out who you were.” 

She showed Annabeth parts of New Rome, the college life and city for adult demigods. The thought made Annabeth wistful for a future, as though she’d never thought she could be an adult. Growing up and going to college and not dying sounded like a really good idea to Annabeth, and she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

Reyna seemed to sense her approval, and she smiled too. “I know, it’s beautiful. Let me ask someone to show you around the rest of the city.” 

Reyna assigned Hazel to be her tour guide, and Annabeth had to admit Hazel was extremely thorough. She pointed at different barracks, took her down to different temples, and  introduced her to all kinds of people. 

“The altar of Jupiter,” Hazel gestured to a tall, larger than life statue rendering of the Roman god, “And his master bolt.” 

“I don’t think it looks like that,” Annabeth muttered under her breath, and then furrowed her brows in confusion. 

“O-ok,” Hazel said carefully, going on, “Anyway, this one is Neptune’s altar. Romans don’t prefer the sea as much, so it isn’t as…” 

She trailed off, and Annabeth got the point. Judging by the basket of moldy apples that littered the veranda, no one came to seek Neptune’s blessing. Looking at the altar gave her an uneasy feeling of apprehension, as though her very presence angered the god. 

The sea does not like to be restrained . 

“Right, exactly.” Hazel said with a small smile, “We respect the sea and its power, but it can be scary.” 

Annabeth’s cheeks turned pink, she hadn’t realized she’d said the words aloud. 

“Who’s your godly parent?” 

“Oh, um, Pluto,” Hazel winced, “Respected amongst the Romans, but he is the god of the Underworld. So I guess I kinda understand what it's like to be feared.” 

“And Frank,” Annabeth changed the subject deftly. 

“Frank hasn’t been claimed yet,” Hazel shrugged, “He wishes his dad was Apollo, but he’s also pretty new to the legion. Some things take time.” 

“I don’t exactly feel a pull to any altar,” Annabeth admitted. 

“You probably wouldn’t, not unless you had a super obvious power. You know, like Jason was a son of Jupiter and the lightning thing was pretty easy to figure out.”

“I guess.” 

But Hazel was good natured, and said that they needed to go speak to Octavian. Octavian was a skinny, yellow haired boy that slaughtered teddy bears—apparently the augur of New Rome. Annabeth wasn’t convinced by his yells and dark proclamations, and quickly deduced his ambitions. 

He wasn’t pleased with the lack of a praetor and clearly believed he was the right fit. The thought made Annabeth snort; Octavian was the type to scheme and blackmail influence, but a praetor needed to inspire confidence themselves. 

The mutilation of a stuffed animal was enough for Octavian to allow Annabeth to become part of New Rome, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t conspiring against her openly, yet. Hazel, too, looked unburdened, and Annabeth hid a smile. 

Then Hazel led her through the rest of New Rome, introducing her to Don the Faun. 

“Aren’t satyrs lovers of the wild?” She’d asked Hazel, “Not running around asking for spare change?” 

“Satyr is the Greek name, the Roman name is faun.” Hazel corrected, “And no, not really.” 

“Are war games after dinner? I’m starving.” 

“Yes, but I want to introduce you to someone first,” Hazel pointed toward a hidden shadow, “My brother.” 

When Annabeth first saw him, her brain was instantly whirring. She knew him from somewhere, all of her internal instincts were screaming. He didn’t look like Hazel at all, he was skinny and pale and dark . He was wearing a black hoodie, and twirling a skull ring about his finger. She thought he might be in his late twenties, but she wasn’t sure. When he saw Annabeth, she thought she saw a trace  of alarm flicker across his face. 

“Hey,” he said quickly, thrusting out his hand, “I’m Nico di Angelo.” 

“I know you,” Annabeth insisted, “I’ve met you before.” 

“No, you haven’t,” Nico drawled, “I’m a son of Hades—uh, Pluto. I spend my time in the Underworld, and I doubt you’ve been dead before.”

Annabeth thought she saw Hazel shoot Nico a questioning look, but Nico shook his head subtly. Whatever he knew, he wasn’t going to tell either of them. 

“Annabeth’s lost her memory,” Hazel explained after a moment of silence, “I thought maybe–” 

Di Angelo . The name sent a sudden illumination through her mind. She saw a young girl, curly haired and bright eyed. She knelt beside Diana, her face glowing in the moonlight, smiling in anticipation for freedom. 

“Bianca,” Annabeth said slowly, understanding. Diana might not have been able to restore her memories, but she could at least pass down a clue. “Bianca is your sister, blessed by Diana. She’s my sister too.” 

Nico faltered, his eyes narrowing. “Bianca’s dead,” he said harshly, “A lot of good those blessings did her.” 

“Diana sent me a vision,” Annabeth pleaded, “She wants you to help me.” 

He looked at her helplessly. “It’s too dangerous for me to tell you everything.” 

Annabeth knew she wouldn’t get much  more out of Nico, and so she let Hazel lead her back to the barracks to get ready for dinner. Roman baths were better than anything she’d ever imagined, and her muscles relaxed in the hot showers. She sat with Hazel and Frank at dinner, the three of them alone at the table for the Fifth Cohort. 

No one seemed to want to associate with their cohort at all, and Frank glumly explained that war games often devolved into ‘attack the fifth.’ Their lead centurion was addicted to Kool-Aid, and none of the other cohorts wanted anything to do with the new girl that could barely hold her own weight standing. But Annabeth felt stronger now, more able-bodied. It had taken a while for her body to adjust, but the bath had helped. Reyna caught her eye a few times during dinner, and Annabeth knew she was watching and examining her carefully. 

After dinner the Fifth cohort trudged towards the armory, and Hazel tossed Annabeth the chestplate. Her fingers quickly strapped it on, and Frank looked impressed. “You’ve done this before,” he raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” Annabeth shrugged, “My past is one big blank.” 

“Do you have a weapon?” Hazel grabbed her cavalry sword. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth glanced at her bronze dagger, warily. Reyna hadn’t been too pleased about it not being imperial gold, another sign that Annabeth didn’t belong at Camp Jupiter. 

Their centurion came back with orders from the other cohorts; the fifth was to attack first and breach all defenses. 

“Throw us at them so they can just walk in,” Annabeth said disgustedly, then looking towards Frank and Hazel, “We need a better strategy.” 

“I have one idea,” Frank hesitated, as though Annabeth would immediately dissuade him, but she nodded encouragingly, “We need to get inside without being seen.”

She realized he was looking at Hazel, who sighed. “Fine. Annabeth, I can tunnel under the ground—we might be able to get under their fort.” 

“It’ll still be too loud,” Annabeth countered, “We’ll need a distraction, I’ll stay behind.” 

“How will you get inside the fort?” 

Annabeth’s grinned. “Oh, after I’m done? There won’t be a fort to get into.”

Chapter Text

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the fort. She was crouched, dagger close to her side and panting hard. The cannons that manned the fort’s defense were all connected, and she had punctured the central point in hopes of causing them to explode. She closed her eyes, the count fixed in her brain. Five, seven, nine…

At eleven a sharp hissing emitted from the side of the fort, followed by high-pitched whistling similar to tea kettles. She bit back a grin, and whirled around to see geysers erupt from the cannons and legionnaires screaming in panic. 

It was a good start, but Hazel and Frank needed more time if they were going to tunnel their way in. She walked over to Octavian, adopting her most serious and intimidating stare. To his credit, Octavian appeared unruffled and gave her a slimy smile. 

“Hello,” he hummed, sharpening his knife as though she’d already bored him. 

“Are you just sitting as your cohort fights on?” Annabeth wrinkled her nose. 

“I’d fight,” Octavian snorted, “If I needed to. But, the fifth cohort sabotages themselves quite well without my aid.” 

“That’s disgusting,” Annabeth rolled her eyes, “You shouldn’t get to just sit aside.” 

That barb sent Octavian into a rant about his position and abilities, as well as all the perks he should receive for performing his duties. Lost in another world, it was easy enough for Annabeth to grab one of the masks from behind him and scurry off. She wondered if he’d ever wake up and realize she’d fled. 

With the mask, no one would know she was not from the third cohort—especially because she didn’t have a SPQR tattoo. Annabeth bent towards a girl with fiery red hair currently stabbing at Dakota, the fifth cohort’s centurion, relentlessly. She made a mental note to apologize to Dakota before twisting his arm and slamming him into the ground, hard. She left him whimpering, reaching for long-lost Kool-Aid. 

“Where did you learn that?” The girl looked impressed, “We haven’t gone over it in training.” 

“No, but it does the trick,” Annabeth said breezily, before adding, “Octavian wants us to reinforce the western defenses. Apparently the fifth is attacking from there, but I wouldn’t know.” 

“Seriously? I doubt the fifth warrants reinforcement.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’d rather not deal with an Octavian tantrum at the moment. You want me to spread the word?”

“If you could,” Annabeth said softly, grateful the mask hid her glee. 

Suddenly the battlefield changed, with hordes of legionnaires running towards the western defenses. Annabeth glimpsed Hazel and Frank running east, and then as they disappeared under a pile of tattered branches. She ran back towards her cohort, ripping off her mask and tossing it away. 

Her fingers grasped for an arrow, and she aimed it carefully, the tip aflame. It soared true, into the sides of the forts and exploding. The rest of the fifth rallied behind her, shooting flaming arrows and such. The flames didn’t do much damage inside the fort, but it did confuse the fighters outside enough that she could lead the cohort closer. 

She let her dagger slice through armor, watching their eyes roll back in their heads and stumble backward as they saw stars. A sudden shout left her watching and waiting, and she beamed as Hazel and Frank emerged, the fort exploding into rubble behind them. 

“The game ends…” Reyna said slowly, as though amazed, “Special honor to the fifth and laurels for Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang.” 

Her gaze lingered on Annabeth for a moment, and she knew Reyna hadn’t approved of her trickery. Romans were more straightforward and honorable, but tricks and deceit ran deep in her blood. Still, Reyna was allowing it…this time. 

The war game was the last thing Annabeth remembered vividly. After the feast, Mars had appeared to bless Frank and claim him as his son. He’d also issued a quest, much more straightforward than Hera’s babble, which she was grateful for. Octavian couldn’t wait to be rid of them, and he’d recommended to Reyna that they leave right away and with no help at all. 

“Trickery,” Reyna had mused, “The quest reeks of trickery, which I suppose is fitting.” 

She’d looked so strangely at Annabeth, that she’d felt like she’d been looked at under a microscope. 

“How so?” 

“It becomes clear to me, even as it confuses you.” Reyna said, “Today’s plan was your doing, by the gift of your mother, Minerva, goddess of wisdom.” 

There were nasty snickers at her words, and Annabeth bowed her head, cheeks coloring. 

“Minerva is a virgin goddess,” Octavian sneered, “You shouldn’t exist.” 

“That being said,” Reyna softened, “You are the blessed of Diana, and come to us with a good omen.” 

“Oh sure,” Octavian snarled, “Send them away so they can begin on their quest.” 

“We cannot travel by land,” Frank said angrily, “If Gaea stirs, then it isn’t safe.” 

“We could go by sea,” Hazel suggested, though she looked queasy, “In Neptune’s domain.” 

“The sea will not harm us,” Annabeth said firmly, as visions of warmth flooded her with surety, “We will take the strength of the Roman navy.” 

The Roman navy turned out to be a small tugboat, but she resolved to stay positive. The entire quest was a fever dream of blue butts, rainbows, and apparently Frank becoming a shapeshifter. Hazel was an undead spirit from the ‘30s and could summon cursed gold. Of course, her story had been nowhere near as cool. Annabeth had gotten her memory back after a risky gamble with Gaea, and her past sent shivers of worry down her spine. 

She’d glimpsed a girl with spiky, black hair in her dreams, calling out to her. The girl was called Thalia, and she’d been the first person she could call home. She came from a camp for Greek demigods, and her mother was Athena, not Minerva. Speaking of Athena, the last she’d seen of her mother? She’d gone nuts during a birthday party and disappeared. 

Welp, she wasn’t getting parent of the year.  

The boy that she’d remembered within her dreams was named Percy, and he was the boy she loved. They’d done everything together, and she’d felt as though she could confide anything to him. There were sticky, sweet memories of their relationship too, memories that were perfectly woven and made her want to kick her feet. He’d held up the sky for her.  

She didn’t remember anything about being the blessed of Diana, or whatever oaths Hera said bound her. The last thing she remembered was the end of the Titan War, but Reyna had said that that had happened fifteen years ago. How could she exist as she did, exactly the same as she was in her memories? When did she become immortal? 

“Maybe you died,” Hazel suggested, “And your soul was returned to the living world.” 

“But I knew your brother,” Annabeth reminded her, “When he was younger than you are now. Gods, this is annoying.” 

Hazel had squeezed her wrist sympathetically, and Annabeth had felt grateful for her presence. She was just so comforting it was like getting wrapped in a big hug, and she was really easy to talk to. 

“You’re memories won’t all come back at once,” Frank said pragmatically, “Give it time.” 

So she’d set aside her woes for the moment and focused on defeating the giant. They’d brought the golden eagle crest back to the legion, just before it would have been overrun with Gaea’s monsters. Annabeth bested a giant with the aid of the border god Terminus, and suddenly the entire camp had raised her on their shoulders with chants for praetor. 

That had been three weeks ago. 

Now she stared at herself in the mirror, donning a long purple cape and a light toga. The girl in the mirror looked sterner, hair braided back in a tight updo. She knew her friends were coming for her, and that the worst of the battles were yet to come. But New Rome had provided her with a family, and she couldn’t help looking at the town and thinking that she’d want to live here someday. 

Reyna knocked on her door, eyes wide. “You ready, Annabeth?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She stepped out with her fellow praetor, waving to the onlooking crowd. Frank and Hazel were beaming at her, pride shimmering in their eyes. 

She hadn’t uncovered any more memories, but maybe Hazel was right. Maybe she was an undead spirit and that was why there were gaps in her knowledge. Maybe the end of Kronos was all that there was to remember. 

Whatever the case, the sun glimmered bright across the lush hills, casting an airy glow over the valley. Today was the day she’d meet her friends and gain answers—her memories could wait. 

Percy frowned, tapping his foot impatiently. Jason, Piper and Leo had returned from their quest to free Hera, and were now planning their voyage to Camp Jupiter. 

He hadn’t quite believed that another camp for half-bloods existed, and that they had apparently aided them in the Titan War. The idea seemed too good to be true, especially considering that he’d been to San Francisco before. It wasn’t until Chiron had reluctantly confirmed it with a sigh that Percy realized it was true. 

He wondered why his father had never mentioned the other camp—he wondered if he had other siblings. 

And Jason was from there, apparently, although Percy still didn’t fully trust that he wasn’t leading them into a trap. Percy’s muscles ached to be a part of the crew, as though some invisible string was tugging him into the quest. But ancient laws prohibited him from aiding the demigods, and he knew that there were bitter consequences for defying them. 

“The Argo II,” Leo had crowed, his arms raised in triumph and face covered with soot, “You can thank me later.” 

Percy had to admit Leo’s work was impressive; the ship had a long hull and a gleaming figurehead of gold. Even to a god it seemed monumentous, just as the first Argo must have been to its crew. Chiron nodded with approval, a tentative smile on his face. He’d looked so grim the last few months that it seemed he’d forgotten how to. 

But even Chiron wasn’t so cool as to allow three (potentially seven) teen demigods to roam around unsupervised. Percy had offered, but Chiron had given him a hard look. 

“Do you seriously expect me to believe you’ll keep demigods in line?” His voice had been wry, “Percy, you hardly look older than Jason.” 

“Age is just a number!” Percy protested, “Come on!” 

“I’m sorry Percy,” Chiron sighed, “Even if it wasn’t an issue, I’ve already asked someone else.” 

“Who, Thalia?” Percy said, fighting to keep the jealousy from his voice, “Figures.” 

“No,” Chiron said, “I asked Grover, and he agreed. To be honest, I can think of no one better. But, I do want you to go to Camp Jupiter.” 

Somewhat mollified, Percy shrugged. “I guess I could, if you think it's okay.” 

“Hmm. I think it might help smooth negotiations,” Chiron explained, “But you must return home after, you cannot aid them in the actual quest.” 

Percy had agreed, his spirits bright. Chiron had wanted him to appear godly, so he’d traded his orange t-shirt for a glimmering toga and a smooth staff of stone. There was a pearl set in the center of the staff, and he’d opted for the barefoot look with a laurel wreath atop his head. He didn’t think it was fair that his father got away with bermuda shorts and a tropical t-shirt, but he was meant to be going all out.

He stepped out now, one foot aboard the ship and looking out into the expanse. The camp watched with bated breath as he strode toward the silver throne by the mast, raising his hand in blessing. The ritual felt pretty silly to Percy, and he still wasn’t sure if he filled the toga out nicely, but it was tradition. 

As he sat, Jason stepped aboard brandishing his golden spear (he’d gotten to wear a t-shirt) and knelt at his feet. Percy raised an eyebrow, his face flushing with embarrassment. Then Piper bowed, then Leo, and as Grover boarded, Percy stood up. No way was he going to make Grover bow at his feet, the entire ritual was already weird enough. 

“Having a god with us is a good omen for the successes to come,” Jason addressed the crowd, grinning, “Here’s to newfound friends, and the defeat of our enemies.” 

The camp erupted into cheers, and Percy felt like he should say something. But this wasn’t his quest, so he sat back in his chair, trying his best to appear regal and confident. Here’s to newfound friends, and maybe some old ones too.

And the ship took off toward the clouds, leaving the little people behind as specks in dust. Piper was leaning over the railing, her outstretched hand waving to the people below. 

“They’re so small,” she mused, looking towards him, “But I guess you always feel like that.” 

“Hey!” Percy shook his head in protest, “I used to be a demigod, and trust me, I never wanted to be.” 

“That must be crazy,” Piper squinted, “Your entire life changed.” 

“Yeah…” Percy trailed off, “Some days I wonder…” 

He didn’t finish, but Piper nodded like she understood. Percy liked Piper, she was calm and easygoing and she definitely didn’t act like her dad was a major movie star. She was a daughter of Aphrodite, though she wanted nothing more than to distance herself from the fact. But she reminded Percy of Silena, lively but troubled, eyes carrying a deep sadness. 

“Anyway,” she changed the subject, twirling her knife, “Spar with me? I hear you’re the best.”

It’s an obvious attempt to distract his thoughts, but Percy took the bait. Piper had gotten much better with sparring, and her practice with Jason was paying off. Percy suspected that Piper and Jason were linked in other ways too, judging by the secret glances they shared when they thought no one was watching. 

She made a clumsy side-step, and Percy knocked the knife from her hand. Piper scowled in frustration, clenching her fist. “Ugh, that was stupid.” 

“You’re improving,” Percy assured her, “Just remember not to shift all your weight onto a foot in close combat.” 

“I guess.” Piper groaned, “Who taught you to spar anyway?” 

Percy’s face darkened. “A demigod, but he isn’t around anymore.” 

“Luke?” Piper guessed, and then hesitated, “Sorry, the Aphrodite Cabin told me about the first Titan War. And Luke sorta came up when Jason talked to Thalia.” 

“It’s okay,” Percy looked toward Grover, who was busy chomping on a piece of scrap, “It was a long time ago.” 

Leo’s voice rang through the ship suddenly. “Almost here! Get ready to dock.”

Piper shuddered, and then furrowed her eyebrows. “I feel like we’re being followed. You’d know if we were, right?” 

“Uh,” Percy faltered, “I don’t know, my sights have been awful the last few months. But I’d trust your gut over anything.” 

Piper crouched apprehensively as the California hills rolled in, surprisingly lush and green. Percy walked toward the edge of the deck, where Jason was peering out with a telescope. 

“A little farther north, Leo,” he called, turning around, “Oh, hey, Percy. All good?” 

“You tell me,” Percy shrugged, “Piper thinks we’re being followed.” 

“Impossible,” Leo said confidently, “The Supreme Commander of the Argo II knows what he’s doing.” 

“Dude,” Percy said dubiously, as Jason erupted into fits of laughter, “That is so not catching on.”

“I can do a quick fly over,” Jason offered. 

“Nah, it should be okay,” Percy said, “How are you holding up? Going back to Camp Jupiter?” 

“I think we’ll get along just fine. What’s important is reuniting the two camps,” Jason said diplomatically, and Percy was struck by how flawless he sounded. He could hardly believe that this was Thalia’s brother; Thalia’s spiky black hair and sarcastic smirk couldn’t be more different from Jason’s close-cropped hair and wide smiles. It was part of the reason Percy always felt uneasy around Jason—no one could possibly be that perfect. 

If he’d still been a demigod, him and Jason would have been fighting for control of the quest. It was a Big Three thing, Percy realized, he’d felt the same tension with Thalia when she’d first returned to camp. It didn’t matter how many quests he’d gone on, everyone looked to the daughter (or son) of Zeus. 

But Percy wasn’t a demigod anymore, and he’d been taken to New Rome as an ornament, a token of goodwill. He was there to smile and wave and exchange pleasantries before retreating back to the comforts of home. Not interfering hadn’t bothered him that much before today, but now the thought of just watching was killing him. Stupid ancient laws

Leo hollered again, and Percy adjusted his wreath carefully. He walked toward the rope ladder, making sure not to trip over his toga. 

“You first,” Jason gestured, bowing his head slightly. 

Percy’s mouth went dry, as he stared at the crowd below the ship. Annabeth 

He’d been imagining this moment for months, but now the idea seemed too painful. There was a reason he hadn’t seen her in fifteen years, and now he could feel everything dredging up again. Their reunion at camp had been a nice reminder of their past, but it wasn’t like they could actually stay friends. She’s a hunter and I’m a god. 

Grover squeezed his shoulder in solidarity, and Percy let out a breath. “We’ll go together,” he said firmly, “You and me, Jason. And then the rest of you follow. ” 

Jason looked up at him in surprise, and smiled. “Okay.” 

They descended down together, and Percy forced his face to be stoic. There was a girl ahead, flanked by two dogs. She looked at Jason fondly, and then her expression grew fearful as the realization set in. 

“Reyna,” Jason stepped forward, addressing the girl, his expression unreadable, “It’s been some time.” 

“It has,” her tone was cold, “You bring a warship into our home, Jason.” 

“These are friends, come on Reyna.” 

“I will have to confer with my praetor on this.” 

Her words lashed out like a whip, and Jason stepped back in shock. Percy felt bad for the dude, it couldn’t have been amazing to hear you’d been replaced. 

“You may hold your judgement on Jason,” Percy tightened his grip on his staff, “But you will answer to me.”

Reyna’s eyes flashed, she didn’t like being undermined, but she also couldn’t order an assault on a god. Percy watched the crowd part and saw another girl in a long purple cape emerge, her blonde curls tied up and her eyes stormy. 

“Annabeth.” He could only look at her in shock. 

She looked so different, so Roman . Annabeth was dressed in the purple camp shirt, and the rest of the camp was looking to her for guidance. He could tell she wasn’t immortal anymore, and she was looking at him with confusion. 

“The Prophecy of the Seven has begun,” Percy continued, “I come to bring you half of the demigods, but Gaea can only be defeated if the two camps work together.” 

The entire camp burst into titters, and Reyna dismissed them with a wave. “Go, the praetors will discuss this on our own.” 

Annabeth seemed as though she’d seen a ghost, and she reached out to touch his hand. “You’re the boy I keep seeing in my dreams. The one I baked a blue brick cake for.” 

“Uh, I don’t–” 

“But you’re a god, I don’t understand.” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Percy started, “And you never gave me blue cake.” 

“I did,” Annabeth insisted, “I baked it with Tyson but we both can’t bake, and then you told me it looked like a brick, and then I told you I liked you. And then–” 

She suddenly stopped, as though she had nothing else to go off of. “I don’t remember.” 

“Because it never happened.” Percy said, cheeks flushing, “We…we were…” 

He felt awful saying the words, and could feel the angry stares fall upon him. Annabeth staggered back, as though a sudden arrow had pierced her reality. Confusion flickered across her features, grappling with this new piece of information. He hated that he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking—even as a huntress Annabeth had been easy to read—but New Rome had clouded her in different ways. She was across from him, but Percy still felt like there were oceans between them. 

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice hollow, “My mistake—another trick of Hera’s I suppose.” 

“Yeah.” 

Reyna looked between them with her gaze narrowed and then clapped her hands.

 “Fine, if Jason speaks the truth, then we have found new comrades, If not…” she paused, eyes blazing with fire as the onlookers roared, “then they will be sacrificed to the legion.” 

Chapter Text

As Reyna led the Greek demigods into the senate hall, Annabeth stayed behind with Grover. He was kicking at the rubble, his wide-eyed stare taking in every inch of New Rome. 

“Gods,” he muttered, “This is insane. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You don’t like it?” Annabeth’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“No, it’s cool, just insane. I think the empathy link is messing me up.” He assured her, nodding towards Percy. “He’s nervous about something.” 

“Probably me.” Her voice felt hollow. 

“Yeah.” Grover winced, staring into the space ahead. “It sorta feels like when you guys first broke up, all fractured and messy.” 

“The first time—” Annabeth trailed off,“I don’t remember much after the Titan War. Those memories are coming back slower.” 

“Maybe you don’t want to remember them.” 

Annabeth stared at him for a second, feeling her stomach sink. Then Reyna called her to the front and she sprinted up, adopting a stoic, Roman expression. She wasn’t exactly qualified to be giving the mini tour, having only been here a short while, but she was praetor. Annabeth felt Percy’s eyes on her, carefully watching her like she was a dead ghost come alive. 

She was only half-listening as Reyna detailed the histories of New Rome’s origins and the safe havens the city provided. Percy looked upon the town wistfully, clear longing on his face. Once upon a time, she’d felt the same way—but she was mortal now, and everything had changed. 

Annabeth wondered what the policies were for rejoining the hunters; the line about forsaking her vows didn’t bode well for her future. She forced her thoughts toward Hazel and Frank, who were nervously glancing about the group. Hazel in particular, seemed fixated on Leo, and Frank didn’t seem to like that. 

“So…” the girl with long dark hair, Piper, said, “Are we on your kill list yet? Because as much as this city is beautiful, we have an earth goddess to stop.” 

Piper was beautiful, with her glossy hair and glimmering eyes that seemed to change color. Her words radiated confidence, and her smile was dazzlingly bright. Daughter of Aphrodite, maybe . 

But Reyna didn’t crack a smile. “No, my praetor seems to trust you, and that is enough for me. Still, you will now have to face the senate, and I would not recommend that honey voice, daughter of Venus. Romans despise trickery.” 

Annabeth guessed that last comment was directed towards her; Reyna probably wasn’t totally okay with her tricks. But Piper stepped back, her face tightening—she hadn’t expected Reyna to see through her charmspeak. 

“In fact,” Reyna added, “We should limit our numbers to the praetors and Jason. And of course, the god who blessed your travels.” 

Piper looked sour about this, but she and Leo agreed to stay behind with Hazel and Frank. As they went on, Percy strode beside Annabeth, glancing towards her like he wanted to make conversation. She wanted him to say something, to break the silence that hung between them like twisted thread. But then they arrived in front of the senate and they lost their chance. 

Inside the senate house, Octavian stood, ridiculously tall with a pompous grin. “Order!” 

Jason rolled his eyes, and Annabeth stifled a laugh. Maybe the two of them could find something in common. She couldn’t really figure out Jason well; his perfect-teeth smile made her feel a little nervous. But he radiated power, and Reyna trusted him, which was all that mattered. He launched into his speech, so perfect that the senate had risen to its feet in applause. 

He finished triumphantly, “That’s when I knew that these were friends for generations. S enātus P opulus q ue R ōmānus.”

Annabeth was impressed and Reyna was beaming, which Annabeth had never seen her do. Octavian looked miffed, but he raised his gavel and rolled his eyes. “Ah, I suppose we might let it slide—” 

A sudden thump had them looking skyward toward the thin spiral of smoke emanating from the place the Greek demigods had landed. Annabeth wrinkled her nose as the sulfuric smell grew more concentrated by the minute. Reyna cursed under her breath, and spun on her heel towards the scene. Percy and Grover exchanged wary looks of suspicion, and Annabeth followed them as they ran after Reyna. 

The center square was chaos; Romans were brandishing spears and yelling and running left and right. The coppery smell of blood jarred her alert, and she curled a finger around her dagger. Piper looked terrified, and she was slowly backing towards the Argo II as Frank and Hazel glared at her. Leo was at the top mast, setting off cannons…

Wait, setting off cannons? Leo was attacking the legion? Reyna looked livid, and she practically spat at Jason with venom. Percy and Grover looked angry too, their fists balled as though ready to fight. Reyna looked to Annabeth for support, but she felt herself shrinking away from her glare. 

“Annabeth…” Reyna was aghast, “You swore your loyalty to the legion!” 

“I’m a member of the seven,” Annabeth frowned, “Stopping Gaea is the priority, I’m so sorry.” 

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed Frank and Hazel and started climbing the rope ladder up the Argo II. 

“We are not doing this,” Hazel glared, “Annabeth, they’re attacking the legion.”

“There’s an explanation for this,” she insisted, “You have to believe me.” 

“She’s right,” Percy broke in, his eyes glinting, “You’re part of the seven, you have to come on this quest.” 

She’d never been more grateful for his aura of power, quietly menacing. Frank gulped slightly, and he and Hazel quickly scurried up the rungs. 

Jason was looking towards Reyna with a sudden realization. “Oh gods. That’ll make seven.” 

“What.” Reyna’s spear lowered slightly, though her words were hard. 

“You have to come with us,” he said, his voice low. 

Reyna squinted, but Annabeth nodded. “He’s right, Reyna. The seventh demigod is you!” 

“I cannot betray…” she trailed off, her voice weak. “Octavian will rule the legion. Annabeth, you can’t ask me to—” 

“Octavian is a problem,” Annabeth agreed, “But there won’t be a legion if we don’t stop Gaea. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for, the quest of a lifetime.” 

“It’s you, Reyna.” Jason was pleading. 

Reyna looked as though she wanted to argue, but her resolve was faltering as the crowd drew closer, and she closed her eyes. “May Jupiter bless the Twelth Fulminata. Here we go!” 

As the last of them piled aboard the ship, Annabeth angrily glared at Leo, whose eyes had glazed over. “How dare you set off the cannons!” 

“We’ll have time for questions later,” Piper insisted, looking at her pointedly, “How are we going to escape the legion? They’re catching up! Percy, do something.” 

“I have no control over the skies,” Percy shrugged apologetically, “Plus I’m not supposed to intefere.” 

“Percy,” Piper gasped, exasperated, “I swear to the gods…” 

“I’ll do it,” Jason brandished his hands, and Annabeth braced as a sharp, sweet wind circled into a vortex around them. Higher and higher the cyclone carried them, until the clamors of Octavian’s crew sounded little more than gnats. She didn’t breathe until they had flown a good distance away, and she immediately whirled on Leo. 

Leo looked terrified, his mouth gaping wide and then closing. Percy’s eyes were glittering dangerously, and Annabeth felt her ire simmer like boiling water. He looked more like himself now, and at the moment Leo was hunting for a well-timed joke. 

“Listen, guys,” he began, but Percy pinched his wrist tightly, “Ow, loosen up, man.” 

“This isn’t Leo’s fault,” Piper started, “I’ve been feeling like we’re being followed, and maybe…Maybe there’s something else on this ship.” 

Reyna looked deeply skeptical, but Jason nodded encouragingly. “Okay, Pipes.” 

Piper took a deep breath, and Reyna’s gaze flitted between her and Jason with confusion, her face falling. Annabeth gave her a sympathetic glance; Reyna had just accepted Jason’s loss, but finding him had probably felt like losing him all over again. Still, she admired her fellow praetor for staying calm—Annabeth had a tendency to fly off the wall with jealousy. 

“Whatever it is,” Percy spoke up, his voice carrying, “Someone needs to watch Leo at all times. Grover?”

Frank shook his head. “Nope, it needs to be a Roman. We’re not letting you Greeks conspire.”

“I’ll do it,” Reyna said, before Percy could respond, her eyes narrowed, “I like a challenge, maybe I’ll figure out what’s going on.” 

“Okay,” Jason said, clapping his hands together, “Meeting dispersed.”

Grover looked pleased about not being on babysitting duty, and as everyone dissolved into their own segment of their cabin, he pulled Percy aside. 

“Hey, hey,” Annabeth waved in, waggling her eyebrows, “No Greek conspiring.” 

Grover rolled his eyes, cracking a smile. “You know we had nothing to do with that,” he said, seriously. 

“Yeah, I think Piper is right about it being something else,” Annabeth agreed, before looking at Percy, “When…when are you heading out?” 

Ever since the most awkward reunion ever, Annabeth was finding it difficult to focus and concentrate around him. She always felt like she was doing something wrong, except he had context, and hers was still fuzzy. 

“Soon,” he said in an undertone, eyes stormy, “Probably breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Okay…I’m going to make sure Reyna hasn’t killed Leo,” Grover nodded, “See ya!” 

Before either of them could protest, he’d scampered down the hall, his furry hindquarters wagging behind them. Percy’s lips twitched, his eyes dancing with mirth. He’d grown out (or enchanted) his hair the last couple of months so that his bangs were slightly longer, and the look was working for him. 

“Good ol’ scheming Grover.” He was leaning against the walls, enchanted with images of Camp-Half Blood. They almost made Annabeth wistful, except the images didn’t look like the camp she remembered, but a whole other world. 

“Having a daughter hasn’t changed him, one bit.” 

“Ha,” Percy scoffed, and then softened, “Hey, purple is a good color on you.”

Annabeth flushed, tugging at a string of her blonde hair. She hadn’t changed out of her Camp Jupiter t-shirt, although it was littered with burn holes. Percy caught her off guard sometimes, saying random things as naturally as he breathed air. They were just little thoughts that popped in his head, which made it even more difficult to reconcile that he wasn’t telling the truth. 

“I like the golden laurels and the toga,” she snorted, blinking them out of the moment, “Very godly.” 

“Hey, Chiron made me!” Percy threw his hands up, “You know that’s so not my style.” 

“Riiight.” 

“Annabeth.” 

“Okay, fine,” Annabeth shrugged, “I just remember that you’d be more likely to want to make a showy entrance at camp.” 

That earned her a grin, although Percy’s eyes hardened at her words. 

“How much…” Percy trailed off, his words careful, “How much do you remember?”

“More now,” she admitted, “I remember most of my life as a huntress, I just don’t remember why…or when I decided to swear fealty, you know?” 

“It was after we broke up.” Percy’s voice was hollow, and his gaze was fixed on hers. “But, you told me you’d been thinking about it for a while.” 

“It’s kind of annoying that I don’t remember,” Annabeth squinted, “No, I do remember, but there’s so many fake memories that it's hard to sort through them.” 

“They’ll come back, give it time.” His voice was so earnest, and Annabeth bit back a smile. 

“I need to tell you something,” she began nervously, “About my mom–” 

Percy straightened up at that, but the rest of the crew barged into the room for dinner time, loud and clamoring. Leo had thawed Reyna somewhat, and they were all singing bad renditions of their favorite campfire songs. 

“I’ll tell you later,” she promised, and Percy nodded. But later turned into tomorrow, because the clan of Merry Men didn’t disperse until well past midnight. She tumbled into the soft sheets of her bed, hoping for dreamless sleep. 

Annabeth awoke into a long, columned hall, dressed in her silver parka and boots. So much for a peaceful dream. Her arrow and quiver were strapped to her back, and she was knelt at a throne. She caught sight of her reflection in Artemis’s (or Diana’s) shield, her face glowing and hair pushed back with a gleaming circlet. The goddess had her eyes closed, the expression on her face almost serene, and Thalia was sitting by her feet. 

In the center of the hall was a fiery blaze, flames crackling with merriment and heat. The hall felt separated and removed, as if it were real and not real at the same time. The crisp, wintry wind smelled of pine trees, and the distant wolf howls echoed amongst the stars.  

“My lady,” her words were a throaty whisper, cheeks burning, “My lady, I apologize–” 

“No need, Annabeth,” Artemis said kindly, “This is not your fault, this is Hera’s meddling.” 

“I’m immortal?” She squinted at her reflection again, feeling power coursing through her fingertips, “Is this in my head? Is it real?” 

“This is in your head, but it is very much real,” Artemis assured, “In my halls, you are still a huntress. You have not yet forsaken your vows.” 

At this Thalia slightly shook her head, and Annabeth swallowed. The line from the prophecy still weighed upon her, and here Artemis was offering her an out. Thalia moved closer toward her, interlacing their fingers and letting out a puff of air. 

“Gods, you’re okay.” Her eyes were wet, and her words were breathless. “I thought I lost you.” 

“I’m here,” Annabeth whispered, feeling tears spring up, “I’m right here, Thalia.” 

“She wants you to abandon the prophecy,” Thalia hedged, “Says that Hera can find another. You know how stubborn she is.” 

Annabeth was silent for a moment, watching the stardust swirl about the throne room. Artemis was watching her carefully, cold and calculating. 

“How can I abandon the prophecy when I do not remember my life with you?” Annabeth bowed her head. “When abandoning the prophecy might mean the end of the Hunters?”

“I’ve restored your blessings to you,” Artemis finally said, “Finish what you have started with the prophecy. Your memories will return in time, and as will you—to take your rightful place by my side.”

Annabeth didn’t say what she was thinking. Everyone said that her memories would come back, but that didn’t seem to be happening at the moment. Also, that she might be smited for what the prophecy had ordained for her; that Artemis’s assurance seemed like a thinly-veiled threat. Her disobedience would be met with sheer godly power, and she’d be turned to ashes on the spot. Steeling herself, she met Artemis’s gaze, fighting to keep her expression blank. 

If Artemis gleaned anything, she didn’t show it. She disappeared down the hall, leaving Annabeth alone with Thalia and the blazing fire. Thalia waited a moment until the footsteps faded, and then pounced upon her worriedly. 

“I didn’t tell her about the prophecy,” Thalia frowned, “She would have been angry. Zeus has closed Olympus, so this is the last gift she can give to you.”

“Will I still have my powers…when I go back?”

“Yup,” Thalia’s face was grim, “Look, I know what the prophecy says, but you can’t betray her.” 

“Sure, Thalia.” 

“No, Artemis suspects you and Percy,” Thalia said in an undertone, “It doesn’t matter if anything has happened yet, but if you do anything now, she will know.” 

Annabeth shivered. “He’s leaving tomorrow, Thalia, and nothing has happened.” 

“Maybe,” Thalia shrugged, “But he was tearing apart the world to find you.”

“Oh.” She knew what Percy looked like when he was tearing apart the world, but she’d never imagined that she meant that much to him anymore. 

“Huntresses vow only two things, fealty to our Lady and maidenhood forever,” Thalia paused, “If he’s leaving tomorrow, then I doubt you’ll have time to shack up with anyone else on the quest. The line must mean you have to go evil to save Olympus.” 

“But–” Annabeth wanted to roll her eyes. 

“I can’t lose you,” her voice went low, “Not like Luke.” 

Annabeth felt her blood chill, and a skitter of darkness went down her spine. Not like Luke. She could still see his scarred face in her mind, blond hair and icy eyes more vivid than the last fifteen years of her life. She remembered his pained grimace, the bloodied cuts on his torso that ran deeper than physical wounds. He’d been marked for his fate from the beginning—it was his brittle string that had snapped that day Grover rescued Percy—and on that path he’d lost everything he was fighting to proetct. Annabeth imagined her friends beside her lifeless body, if her choices led down that path. 

“But either way, you will be killed for your disloyalty,” Thalia pressed, jarring her to reality, “Whatever you do, you cannot forsake your vows. Do you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” her words were quiet, “Okay.” She understood more than Thalia ever knew. If it came down to it, she’d do whatever it took to save Olympus. Some things were more important, Fates or not. 

Chapter Text

Annabeth awoke to a gentle tug on her hoodie, and the first rays of sunlight trickling in. Percy was looking at her, hair messy enough that she knew he’d just gotten out of bed. 

“Hey.” His voice was quiet. “I think I’m heading out now. I just thought I should let you know.” 

“Oh, sure,” Annabeth patted her hair down flat, and suddenly felt stupid for doing so. She could picture Artemis’s glare, and cleared her throat. 

“You look…” Percy trailed off, an edge of disappointment in his voice, “You look different.” 

“Gee, thanks, Seaweed Brain. I already know my bed head looks like Medusa’s snakes in the morning.” 

His face was panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s not a bad different—” 

“Oh?” Her eyes glimmered with humor, and Percy sighed. 

“You’re teasing.” 

“A little bit.” 

She told him about the dream she had about Artemis, and about her immortality coming back. She told him about Athena acting weird on Olympus, and about the charge that had been laid upon her. 

Annabeth knew that Percy had been there when they’d heard the prophecy, but she didn’t want to bring up the thought of her betraying Artemis. She cursed Thalia for putting the idea in her mind. With him so close, any thoughts felt dangerous. 

“That’s all, I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders, “Unless you have anything to update me on.” 

“You’re a huntress again,” his eyes were clouded with an emotion she couldn’t interpret, “Gods, I probably shouldn’t even be in your room right now, should I? I’m so sorry.”

She let out a little laugh. “Probably. At least you’re a god, or she would turn you into a jackalope.”  

“I don’t like the thought of you in Rome alone,” Percy blurted out, “Before I left Olympus, my dad said there were evil things lulling under the surface. I don’t know if it's safe.” 

“Like quests are ever safe.” She sighed, standing up to make her bed. “It sort of comes with being a demigod.” 

He was wrestling with himself, she could tell, but in the end he didn’t say anything. She watched him slip away as quiet as he came, like a lurking shadow. 

The rest of the morning was quiet after Percy left. Jason, with Piper and Leo,  was charting the best paths to reach the ancient lands. Percy had been awake with them for a couple hours, they said, chiming in with suggestions on what worked. It was just like him to do that, but it made her a little sad that it wasn’t something the two of them could do anymore. 

Hazel and Frank still hung back from the Greeks, their curious stares mixed with expressions of distrust. They preferred Reyna’s company, honorable and familiar; Annabeth wondered how long it would be before they wouldn’t want hers. 

Her only solace was Grover, with his reed pipes and knowing smile. He was on an Iris Message call with Juniper, and Annabeth thought the glow on his face right then beat any sort of immortal blessing. Thank the gods satyrs didn’t count as real boys—Annabeth didn’t think she could have survived all the years without her friend. 

“Hey,” Annabeth looked up to see Piper looking at her expectantly, “You eat yet?” 

She hadn’t, so she shook her head and Piper tossed her an orange. It was sweet, and she tried not to let the juice dribble down her chin as Piper went on. 

“Tell me about your quest.” Annabeth had heard Jason’s story in front of the Senate, all shiny battles and dangerous prophecies. It was every bit the hero’s quest, but she knew that they usually weren’t that simple. 

“It was crazy,” Piper admitted, “I’ve never done any traveling, and getting to use my charmspeak to actually help people felt really good.”

“I remember my first quest,” Annabeth smiled, memories flooding to life, “I felt like I actually had a purpose in life. After running away, it took me a long time to feel wanted.” 

“I get it,” Piper paused, as if wondering how much to say, “My dad was kidnapped on the quest, and he chose to forget everything — about demigods and magic. I know why he did it, but it almost feels like he won’t ever get to know this other part of me.” 

Annabeth nodded. “It took a long time for my dad to accept that part of me too.” 

“Do you see him much?” 

“I see him when I can.” Sometimes she could lose track of time with the hunt, and so she’d stopped making plans with her family. She’d drop by if she was in the area, if only for a quick lunch and break for the Hunters. “It’s different when you’re a Hunter. You sort of get a new family.” 

“Is your dad okay with that?” Piper frowned. “You being a Hunter?” 

He hadn’t been happy when she’d first told him, and he wouldn’t speak to her for a week. Then, he’d blamed Percy and their breakup, grumbling about how he’d rather she just chopped off all her hair or something. 

Everyone thought she’d joined the Hunters because of Percy, but it hadn’t been about that. Sure, she’d sort of felt weird dating a literal god, but she’d been okay when things had ended. She’d cried too much the entire time they’d been together. 

It was more about finding a family that would last a lifetime. Her relationship with her dad would always be rocky, and Thalia had made it sound so exciting. Of all the people in her life, Thalia had never let her down, and it was hard not to imagine them adventuring again like when they were younger. 

Her mother had approved wholeheartedly, and Annabeth hadn’t even thought twice about making the pledge. At least, not until she’d gone back to San Francisco and seen the stricken look on her father’s face. It was the only time she’d had a twist in her stomach, a gnawing guilt that told her she’d messed up. 

“He’s gotten used to it.” It was harsh, but true. The last time she’d visited, Bobby and Matthew had grown a head taller than her and were applying to colleges. That had been a couple of years ago; she had no idea what they would be doing now. Would they have jobs? Would she fade away into a distant memory that they’d laugh about sometimes? 

She must have zoned out, because Piper cleared her throat significantly. They’d decided on the course mostly, except that Piper had added a detour. 

“Why are we going to Kansas?” 

Piper looked uncomfortable, and she quickly glanced around before unsheathing her dagger. Annabeth recognized the knife from the camp shed; it was mostly a ceremonial weapon, not meant for battle, but Piper squeezed the hilt with a hard grip. 

“I see visions in my dagger,” she explained, her finger tracing the dull edge, “I saw Bacchus, I mean, Mr. D in the cornfields. There was a sign for Topeka nearby too, I think.” 

“That sounds like a trap,” Annabeth said gently, “We don’t even know why Mr. D is there.” 

“Jason,” she hesitated, “Jason said that we could split up. Some of us would go to the cornfields, and the others could grab supplies from one of the shelters nearby.” 

She still didn’t think Kansas was a good idea, and Annabeth didn’t miss the way that Piper carefully asked for her approval. Jason might have been the son of Zeus, but she had a lot more experience than anyone else on the boat. 

Jason and Piper immediately volunteered to go meet Mr. D, but Annabeth was more apprehensive. Leo was needed to repair the ship, and he needed Hazel to find him raw materials. She figured Frank’s dragon form would be good enough to protect the hull from any minor monsters, which left either her or Reyna to go with them. 

Once upon a time, she might have volunteered to spare Reyna the heartbreak. But, fifteen years had hardened her, and there was no room for love triangles in the Great Prophecy. Besides, where better to work out tension and build trust than at a monster fight?

“Fine, then. I can go get supplies.” Annabeth piped up before Reyna could say anything, and Leo’s mouth fell open. 

“I don’t mind getting supplies,” Reyna cut in, and Jason nodded. 

Annabeth bit back her retort, forcing a smile on her face. “I’m not going to Kansas, it’s obviously a trap and it isn’t going to help us.” 

Her words were barbed arrows, and they soared true, but Jason didn’t even blink. Reyna looked like she wanted to argue, but Piper shook her head. “It’s okay. The three of us can go.” 

Piper caught her eye and gave her an encouraging nod; spreading love amongst the three of them would be her personal mission. Annabeth watched them trudge away with their backpacks, and resolved to pack her own. Her parka and arrows had been waiting for her when she’d finished showering, and putting them on felt like stepping into her own skin. 

Her fingers quickly twisted her hair into a simple braid, and when she went down into the dining room, she felt so much better. She hadn’t felt so energized in a long time; it almost felt like when she’d first become a Huntress all over again.

“Gods, Annabeth. What have you done?” She’d whirled around to see Percy, his face twisted into a bitter smile. He was leaning against the marble columns, his arms crossed. 

Huntresses normally didn’t get introduced to Olympus, but Athena and Artemis had insisted as she was an honored hero from the war. Zeus had personally blessed her, and Thalia had watched her with a glimmer of pride. 

She hadn’t realized he’d be here, though. “It’s none of your business, not anymore.” 

“Does your dad know?” Percy raised an eyebrow. 

“I haven’t told him yet,” she admitted, “But he’ll understand.” 

“Right, sure. Of course he’ll get it.” The sarcastic undertone in his voice had been unmistakable. 

“Look, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, okay? It wasn’t some spur of the moment decision.” 

“Is this because of me?” His voice was rising, “Because we broke up?” 

“You couldn’t be more full of yourself, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth had felt her own resolve begin to snap. “I joined Lady Artemis because I wanted to forge something permanent. And you’re a god, I would never think that what we had was long term.” 

The words had hit him like a whip. It had been a couple years since the end of the war, but he’d still looked as though you’d plucked him straight off the battlefield. His eyes narrowed and he’d turned away from her. “Fine, but we’re friends, Annabeth. I thought you would tell me before you made such—” 

“—such a what?” She had been testy, looking for another fight. 

Percy’s eyes flashed, like the ocean before a storm. “Such a life-changing decision.” 

There was so much left unspoken between them, and it was hard not to feel like the air was charged every time they spoke. But, he’d let the argument go, and she could live with that. 

“I don’t think we should be alone right now,” she’d said quietly, “Rules and all that.” 

Percy had glanced warily back toward the throne room, where the gods had started another one of their revels. It was loud enough that their conversation would have been masked, and Percy had sighed. 

“So, I’ll see you, I guess.” 

She’d watched him go with mixed feelings of dread and relief. Thalia had beckoned her over, but she’d always feel a strange tugging in her gut whenever he was around. He would be her biggest what if. 

Annabeth shook off the memory, and continued down to the dining hall. Maybe Grover had been right, maybe these were the memories her brain was fighting not to remember. “She’s back, huh?” Grover winked, and Annabeth flushed. 

“Yeah,” she grinned, “Gods, I missed this parka. Regular t-shirts just aren’t the same.” 

“Right,” Grover snorted, “That’s the only reason anyone should be a Hunter.” 

“For a second, I almost didn’t want this anymore,” she said, the confession heavy, “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it all.”

“Being immortal can feel like that.” 

“Oh, that too!” 

Grover shook his head, biting back a knowing smile. Annabeth waved good-bye to Grover before setting out for the bunker. Supposedly some millionaire had created it in case of nuclear war, but it was empty and full of supplies now. 

The bunker was a pretty sad place, all plain white walls and single pane windows reminiscent of a dystopian novel. She pushed open the gate slowly, making her way towards the door step by step. 

It was eerily silent, and Annabeth was just beginning to relax when her foot tripped over a root and she landed face first into the grass. She felt it sink and give out beneath her, and she let out a shrill scream as she rolled down a bed of hay. 

“That’s disgusting!” She dusted off the fertilizer, and glared around her, “That was a really sneaky trap.” 

“I apologize for that, really. I’m afraid I had no choice.” 

“That’s what they all say,” she fought to keep her voice strong, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” the voice paused, “It’s what I’m going to do to him.” 

Deep and gravelly, the threat sent an electric shiver skittering up her spine. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and found a dim, flickering light in the corner. Brows furrowed, Annabeth let out a little gasp. 

Bound to the pole with silvery rope was the spirit of Luke Castellan.

Chapter Text

The cavern was hidden beneath the Ancient Lands, nestled between lush, green fields and cracked, stone pathways. It shouldn’t have existed, as bold and brazen as it was, but rules hardly applied in the Ancient Lands. That was the funny thing about them. Little light ever managed to sneak in, but the little rays that did cast the cavern in red shadows. Her possessions were bathed in light and bathed in blood. 

She couldn’t help marveling at the Romans, who would make their way through their cities, never once bothering to wonder what they couldn’t see underneath. Mortals really were stupid, weren’t they? At least she wasn’t one of them, not anymore. 

It wasn’t much longer she’d have to remain here; Gaea had promised her freedom soon. One more traveler seeks your hall, Gaea had said, She will be your last. She heard a thread snap, and glared into the darkness. Only the glint of gold that peeked through the cocoon betrayed her hidden treasure. 

It grew hotter as the day went on, the clay walls baking under the heat of the sunlight. Sometimes it was truly unbearable, but most of the time she could handle it. Tapestries lay everywhere: on the work table, the floors, and the makeshift windows. There had been a time when she couldn’t stop herself from stitching beautiful pictures, but these days all she could thread were her snares. She hooked a leg around a spool of twine, hissing in pain when the sharp rubble dug into her skin. 

Her cavern wasn’t one where the word ‘neat’ might come to mind. Human bones littered every crevice she could see, and even the ones that she couldn’t. Bones from travelers she’d known, and bones from long before she’d ever had a thought. She couldn’t remember the first traveler who’d happened upon her dwelling, bright-eyed with promise. They’d waved their little coin around, as though they’d achieved something for a lifetime. It hadn’t been long before their smiles faded. 

Her treasure had been a lucky find, a curious happenstance. She’d never intended for it to find her, but it came to her no surprise. Of course the treasure knew that she was more worthy of possessing it. It had kept her alive for thousands of years, and she’d readily accepted its blessing and aura of power. Wrapping it tightly felt just as good as having her true enemy imprisoned. 

She bit on the spool hard, letting her fingers run over the thread and twist it into the most beautiful strand. Her material had the benefit of being sticky, so it wasn’t difficult to loop it around the cocoon and hide the gaps. The cavern shook and she quickly set herself in motion—if she didn’t work fast enough she’d be buried under the dust.  

Slowly and steadily she strode around the webbed contraption, placed carefully in the eaves. Humans had eroded at the cavern over the last few centuries, almost coming close to her vault of secrets. They’d never found it, though their machines and contraptions left marks that even her thread could not heal. Even now, the cavern was held together by her sheer skill and talent. 

Still, it was no matter; in a while she wouldn’t even need it anymore. She would mourn the loss of her treasure, but how she longed for a breath of fresh air. Her lungs hungered for a taste of the sweet, crisp breeze and her skin wanted for the touch of real sunlight. Not the crude filtration that barely allowed her to see her own loom. 

She missed the moon, and she missed watching showers of stars racing to kiss the earth. Of course she’d spun whatever she could remember, but her pictures sometimes felt like lifeless imitations. Her mind hesitated to remember the time when she’d been afforded praise for every tapestry she’d created. When all of her work was just as good, no better, than the gods. 

One more traveler. 

Her final stitch yanked the loop forward and let the cocoon settle into a tangled heap. The cavern groaned as it normally would, and she braced for it to cave, but it never did. Now, all that was left was to wait. 

She was the weaver, and her trap was set. 

The first thought Annabeth had was that Luke looked miserable. Annabeth didn’t think that spirits could bleed, but the rope was digging into his arms and leaving deep scars. Luke had a bluish tinge to his skin and he was a little thinner, but otherwise he looked just as he had in life. 

“You should be in the Underworld,” she whispered. She’d always held out the hope that he’d found Elysium after his sacrifice, even if he had betrayed everyone. It had been a nice thought for her to whisper as death leaned to snatch him away, but she could admit it had been far fetched. She’d always thought that she’d never have to see him again, and that she’d be able to move on from the war. 

Annabeth remembered being kidnapped by the General, and Luke forcing her under the sky. Luke’s eyes swam with tears, but she couldn’t help inching away. 

Maybe this was all another trick. 

“Well, how about that? Perhaps she no longer cares for you, Luke. ” Annabeth had tried her best to ignore the shadow in the corner, but now she felt her head swivel in its direction. 

The shadow resembled a knight, dressed in Greek battle armor and shrouded in a cloud of mist. It snaked around the cellar with a mind of its own, cool and paralyzing. His eyes blazed a fiery gold, familiar enough that it made her knees shake. Of all the people she’d hoped never to see again, he made first on her list. 

Kronos. Lord of all Titans. The Crooked One. 

He had many names, but none of them mattered. Kronos had been the one who’d eaten his own children, and the one who had taken advantage of demigods poisoned by years of neglect. 

After Luke’s failed quest, he’d snuck into his dreams and twisted his heart until Luke was something Annabeth couldn’t recognize anymore. But, Luke had killed himself to make sure that Kronos wouldn’t ascend. In the last moment, he’d made the choice to preserve Olympus. 

She’d been skeptical, but Chiron had sworn that the effort would have shattered Kronos into a million pieces. He’d promised that they wouldn’t have to worry about Kronos’s rise again. 

“This isn’t possible.” Annabeth shook her head; she’d probably walked into some kind of a gas leak and was imagining things. 

Fate couldn’t be playing such a cruel joke. After everything they had lost and fought for in the last war, Annabeth didn’t want to believe that it had been for nothing. She braced herself for time to freeze and a slow, agonzing death. 

Annabeth had been so sure that the trap had been in the cornfields where Mr. D was waiting. She hadn’t even considered that her little expedition could be unsafe.  

“Fifteen long years,” Kronos said, his voice thrumming throughout the room, “Fifteen long years and I am still formless and weak!” 

He suddenly slammed the crate beside him, splintering it into a million pieces. Annabeth flinched, and Luke recoiled as the rope knotted tighter around him, as though in response to its master’s anger. 

The armor was just a disguise, Annabeth realized with some relief. Kronos wasn’t on the precipice of victory, and there was nothing but a disfigured spirit under the chinks of metal. She didn’t doubt that he could kill her if he wanted to, but at least she could try and put up a fight. 

“This one,” Kronos sniffed at Luke with distaste, “Has proven just as useless in death. But, we were bonded in ways you cannot imagine, and that has sustained me.” 

Luke choked out a cough, and Annabeth’s heart lurched. 

“I don’t understand,” Annabeth said, “You lost the war. Are you preparing to join Gaea?” 

Kronos sneered, his eyes flashing a little brighter. “My mother has chosen her other children. The ones she deems worthy of toppling Olympus and worthy of her attention.” 

Huh. Kronos had mommy issues, interesting. She could definitely work with that. “I know, she didn’t even wake up for your war.” 

“Finally, someone understands,” Kronos frowned, “If anything, it is my crude half-brothers who must fall. I’d rather Zeus rule than them.” 

“Well,” Annabeth clapped her hands together, “I’m actually on a quest to stop them, and prevent Gaea from waking.” 

“I am aware of that.” 

“So…” she trailed off, “It would really be in your best interest if you let me go. It’s a win-win situation.” 

Kronos’s grin was lopsided, the curves of his mouth curling up to reveal jagged teeth. A wave of nausea rolled over Annabeth, and she shot a desperate glance at Luke. He hardly seemed to register that she was there, his eyes glazed over and cloudy. 

“Luke has been with me for some time,” he mused, “You’ll have to excuse his dazedness.” 

Bent over like that, he looked like he had when he’d asked her to run away with him all those years ago. The defeated look on his face made her want to cry. “He doesn’t deserve this,” she said, “His soul needs peace.” 

“That,” Kronos paused, “I’m afraid, is completely up to you. I will release Luke after my brothers are dead.” 

“Great.” Annabeth whirled around, searching for a source of light that might lead to an exit. 

“So, you will form an alliance with me, then?” 

“What?” Her eyes widened, and her lips pressed into a hard line. “I never said anything like that.” 

“I can grant you safe, uninterrupted passage across the Atlantic. All I need are a few favors from you.” 

“I’m not falling for that crap,” Annabeth scoffed, pointing towards Luke, “Look what happened to him. I’ll find another way to help Luke.” 

They didn’t call Kronos the ‘Crooked One’ for nothing. He had a reputation for reeling in demigods with sweet, sticky promises and then letting everything fall flat. 

“Luke served me,” Kronos shrugged, “I want us to work together.” 

“Right, sure. And when we get on the battlefield, you’ll look at me and quickly cozy up to Gaea. No thanks.” 

“I swear on the River Styx,” Kronos said quickly, “I swear my allegiance will be to you and you alone until we defeat every last giant and my mother.” 

The promise didn’t cover what would happen right after they’d defeated Gaea, but at the moment it was looking like a pretty sweet deal. With the gods all incapitated, they would need all the divine help, no matter where it came from. A memory of Athena trampling her and yelling filled her mind, and she groaned internally. If she’d been right about the cornfields, things weren’t looking too good for the Seven. 

This might have been a trap, and Luke might have been pretending. Still, she’d always been more forgiving than Thalia had, and she couldn’t stop staring at him crumpled on the floor. It tugged at her heart more than she’d liked to admit, and he was family. Besides, there was a tugging feeling in her gut that making an alliance was the only way forward. 

“Fine, then,” Annabeth sighed, and rolled her eyes when Kronos glared, “I swear on the River Styx that I will help you defeat the giants.” 

“That’s not good enough,” he insisted, “Of course you’d help me defeat the giants.” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

He wanted her to swear her loyalty to him until they defeated the giants, which she refused. She still wasn’t sure he was lying about hating his mother, and she needed to play it safe. 

“I swear on the River Styx to never tell another soul about our agreement,” Annabeth said slowly, “And I swear that so long as it doesn’t harm me or my friends, I will help you to the best of my ability.” 

It was a sticky clause, but nothing she wasn’t confident she could wiggle out of. Kronos seemed to realize so too, but he didn’t mind too much. He snapped his fingers and the silvery rope unraveled itself. Luke fell to the floor, his breaths ragged and shallow. 

“Annabeth,” he gasped, reaching for her. His hand, made of mist, was strangely solid, but she could feel a freezing gust of wind chill her hand the moment it did. “You made a deal with him?” 

“I had no choice,” she said, “Besides, he’ll help us get across the Atlantic without any monster fights. We’re running out of time.” 

She cast an angry look at Kronos. “Well? Aren’t you going to return Luke to the Underworld?” 

“That’s not my job.” Kronos sounded bored. “Thanatos will collect his debts, but the Doors of Death have been open for a while and I’m sure he’s backed up. He’s got souls running around from millenia ago.” 

“I guess,” Annabeth faltered, “You could come with me on the Argo II.” 

She didn’t even want to imagine what Grover would say when he saw Luke aboard the ship, but there was no other way out of this. Annabeth couldn’t leave Luke with Kronos for a second longer. She shuddered to think what Kronos might find funny and amusing. 

“Me?” Luke’s laugh was scornful. “Me, on a ship of demigods? I bet that’ll go over really well. I’m sure they’ll love me.” 

“Luke—” 

“No, no. I bet they’ll be thrilled to know that they now have to live with a ghost who happens to be a traitor of Olympus.” 

“A hero of Olympus,” she corrected, but she knew that Luke was right, “Hey, wait. You’re glowing.” 

A strange light seemed to be coming from within Luke, and he looked almost like before he’d joined Kronos. With a sunny smile, she could imagine he’d never turned evil. The light emanated like a halo, rays of light coiling around his arms to patch up the marks left by the fetters.

“It might be because he doesn’t have you tied up anymore,” she tilted her head, glancing about the room. 

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting an idea, I can tell.” 

“Reyna left the Roman Camp to Octavian’s mercy. In the end, we’re going to need the Romans on our side to beat Gaea. Besides, the Romans don’t even know you.” 

“You think they’d listen to me?” he sounded doubtful. 

She held up a celestial bronze breastplate left on the floor. “I think with a little armor, no one will ever know that you’re supposed to be dead. Besides, you’re all glowy and look like someone with authority.”

Luke didn’t look convinced, so she pressed on with reasons for him to go. Even with a massive scar, Luke had always been able to charm anyone out of anything. She had no doubt he’d be able to face off against Octavian easily. 

“He’s just a stupid guy who slaughters teddy bears for fun. It’s the slimiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I know it’ll be a cakewalk for you.” 

“Anything you want, Annabeth,” he said earnestly, “When Thanatos does come to collect me, I want them to see that I’ve changed.” 

A slow smile broke over her face, and then she turned to face Kronos. “So, we have a deal?” 

“I suppose we do.” 

Luke had grumbled about Kronos not offering to secure his safe travel, but Annabeth said that she’d walk him to the bus stop. Being in the same room as the Titan turned her hands clammy, and she had broken out in a cold sweat. Even formless as he was, he still radiated an aura of power that made her shiver. Also, it wasn’t too far from the Argo II, and so they trudged along the dirt road in silence. 

“How’s Percy?” They were leaning against the benches at the stop, brittle and with paint peeled off. 

She froze, glancing at Luke suspiciously. “He’s fine, uh, he’s at camp with Chiron.” 

“I can’t believe the prophecy didn’t pick him.” Luke was looking at her, and Annabeth wondered how long Kronos had kept him in that cellar. 

“Well, he is a god now, so…” she trailed off, watching his reaction carefully. 

Luke’s eyes nearly jumped out of his skull. She’d guessed that hers had been like that also the night the gods had offered Percy immortality. Her stomach had been in knots, and she’d thought she’d been about to throw up. “Gods. I missed a lot, didn’t I?” 

Annabeth nodded, and then Luke seemed to register her parka for the first time. “Just to be clear,” she added, “I joined up with the Hunters.” 

“Was it because of—” 

“No!” She glared, turning away. “Why does everyone think that?”

Luke mumbled out a hasty apology, and they settled in another silence, this one uncomfortable. At one point in their lives, Annabeth might have told Luke everything that had happened with her and Percy. Now, him being here felt like dredging up old wounds.

It was bad enough that she’d been kidnapped and forced on some crazy quest. 

“You can leave if you need to,” Luke finally said, his voice quiet. 

“No way,” she said flatly, “I’m not going until I know for sure that you get on that bus.” 

He looked as though he was fighting himself, before asking, “Why’d you save me?” 

She stared at him blankly, sighing. Of all the questions she thought he’d ask, she’d thought the answer to that one was obvious. “Did you not want me to?” 

“Annabeth, I killed so many demigods and ruined everyone’s life. I ruined your life.” 

“Yeah, but you saved Olympus in the end,” she paused, “Besides, you’re my family. I owe you that.” 

He nodded, and they talked about how he’d approach New Rome. Of course he wouldn’t mention any relation to the Argo II or he’d be dead. Again. 

Luke had some knowledge of the Roman Camp; he’d been mostly intertwined with Kronos, but he knew enough to be familiar. He’d impress the Romans with his supposed prophecies (he’d be communicating with Annabeth via Iris Message for information) and swoop in as a respected leader at camp. 

Luke was apprehensive about that last part, but Annabeth had faith in him. Besides, if he succeeded, the Romans would fight with the Greeks in the war.  

The bus finally wheeled in, the smell of gasoline and fumes making Annabeth nostalgic for another time in questing. She remembered Thalia, Luke, and her tearing through cities and stowing away in buses just like this one. They’d been young and scrappy, with nothing else to hold onto but each other. Had Luke been marked for his fate even then? 

She and Luke hadn’t talked about Thalia at all; they hadn’t talked about a lot of things, but that was okay. Bringing up memories of the past was too painful, and everything was too raw and real. 

Too much had happened then for everything to be stitched back together the way it was. It had been fate, but also the result of costly choices. She didn’t know if she could ever fully forgive him, but at least he was trying to redeem himself. 

Luke boarded on, his battle armor hidden in a canvas satchel, but this time she wouldn’t be going with him. 

She waved and prayed to the gods that the mist would hide his ghost-like form, letting out a breath when the driver didn’t bat an eye. As he faded away into a speck on the horizon, the back of her wrist burned, singing the sleeve of her parka. 

The silver scythe charm dangled from her bracelet, glittering with the weight of the thousand souls that it had deceived. It was looped tight, a constant throbbing of pain that reminded her of her decision. She remembered her mother warning her of her fatal flaw, of being wary of her pride leading her astray. But, this wasn’t like that — she knew that their alliance was real — and she’d taken precautions. 

We are equals , she chanted the mantra in her mind like a prayer, We are equals. 

Annabeth only hoped that she’d be right.

Chapter Text

When she finally got back to the Argo II, she’d met Piper running around frantically in search of bandages. 

“Jason…blood…hit,” Piper buried her face in her hands, looking at Annabeth pleadingly. 

“I have ambrosia,” Annabeth remembered, pulling out a pack from the satchel she’d put together at the bunker. She didn’t know how old the lemon bars were, but they couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. 

Piper grabbed the bag and ran down the corridor, leaving Annabeth rushing after her. Reyna was in the room when she walked in, her face bloodied and bandaged. Her right eye was swollen, and her arms were littered with welts that looked like bee stings. 

“Gods, I’d hate to see the other guy.” Annabeth tried for a joke, but Reyna’s stare was cold. She wondered if this was what people felt like looking into her eyes. 

“Jason might die.” Reyna’s voice was grim, “All because of those awful eiodolons. Piper was right about Leo being possessed.” 

“How many–” 

“We don’t know yet,” Reyna frowned, “We just have to wait for Jason to wake up so Piper might send them out. She thinks she has an idea.”  

“Oh. Okay.” 

“How was your mission?” Reyna hesitated, “The supplies came through?” 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Annabeth said honestly. Luke’s worried face was an unwanted picture that flickered through her mind, but she’d just have to be extra careful. Her eyes rested on Jason, whose chest rose and fell in steady increments. “What happened out there?” 

Piper and Reyna shared an uneasy glance, and Piper cleared her throat. “We met Dionysus, but he was in his Roman form, I think?” 

Reyna nodded. “Yes, Bacchus. He seemed to sense the impending trap, but the eidolons got to us before we could get out.” She didn’t elaborate, but fingers trembled and her voice shook. 

“We asked him to help,” Piper said bitterly, “But he said he’d require a bigger sacrifice, and left us to deal with it on our own. We managed, but barely.” 

Annabeth scoffed. “That’s stupid. We’re fighting this war for them.” 

Reyna looked toward her with renewed interest. She finally, finally understood what Luke had gone through all those years ago. With luck, he’d managed to escape Ladon with a scar, but his wound had run deep, bleeding and twisting his soul. Her wrist burned, and she staggered back in surprise. Was Kronos influencing her thoughts, or was she desperately looking for someone to blame? 

Piper frowned. “With Jason out, we have no one to watch the skies. And we don’t exactly have a son of Poseidon to control the sea.” 

Percy wouldn’t demand a large sacrifice. But he’d been commanded to stay away from their quest for fear of breaking Ancient Laws. The other gods didn’t trust him not to interfere, and Artemis didn’t trust him around her. If she dumped a crate of blue soda in the ocean, would he hear her? Would he come?

“I guess we’re really missing Percy now,” Grover broke in, as though he could read her thoughts. She knew he had an empathy link with Percy, but he could be strangely attuned to her too. 

“We’ll be fine,” Annabeth shrugged, not wanting to get into the specifics of her deal with Kronos. He’d promised to protect them as they crossed over to the Ancient Lands, but she wasn’t sure how he’d do it without revealing their agreement. “I’ll work on adding defenses with Leo.” 

“We don’t even know where to go,” Reyna pointed out. 

Annabeth winced; she wasn’t too excited about telling everyone about her prophecy. She didn’t even know what the Mark of Athena was. 

Thankfully, Hazel ran in at that moment with Frank, her forehead dripping with sweat. “My brother,” she gasped, “My brother has been kidnapped!” 

“Nico is a seasoned demigod, older than all of us.” Reyna didn’t look impressed, “How did that happen?” 

“He’s been weak,” Hazel insisted, “He’s barely been eating the last few weeks and he’s always shadow traveling.” 

Annabeth had always had a soft spot for Nico, not only because his sister had been a Huntress. His obsession with Mythomagic had reminded her of when she’d first arrived at camp, completely in awe that the stories she’d heard as a child were real. 

Of course she’d empathized with his crush. It didn’t take two eyes to realize that he had admired Percy, but then again, Percy was Percy. She hadn’t been too happy when he’d secretly taken Percy to dip in the Styx (he could have died), but it had all worked out, in a way. 

A part of her had always blamed the Styx for giving Percy a taste of immortality, a sip so strong that it overwhelmed all of his connections to humanity. It had been the subject of their many arguments when they were together, especially because it essentially put Percy on another plane of existence. 

She’d sort of lost track of Nico when she’d joined the Hunters, and had just assumed that he’d grown up as normally as someone from the 1940s would. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like fate was ready to let him forget his parentage. 

“We have to save him,” she spoke up, glancing at Hazel, “Where is he being kept?” 

“Rome.” She wasn’t even surprised when Hazel said it, although apprehension skittered up her spine and into her bones. 

She wouldn’t be able to run from her own prophecy for much longer, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. Nico obviously consumed Hazel’s mind, and she didn’t think she needed to distract everyone with a mission from her mother, who wasn’t even in the best mental state. 

It was a flimsy excuse, but it was the only one she had. 

“He’s started eating the pomegranate seeds, too,” Hazel said, burying her face in her hands. 

Grover shot her a look of confusion and she went on. “Children of Pluto get pomegranate seeds in case we are ever without food or water. It is a gift to sustain us.” 

“So, Nico’s okay?” Reyna’s voice was soft. 

“For now,” Hazel’s voice cracked, “But, he’s on his last seed. I don’t even know if we can reach Rome in time.” 

“They’re luring us out there,” Piper’s gaze fell upon her dagger, “It’s dangerous to go to the Ancient Lands. We can’t act rashly.” 

“Nico dies tomorrow, Piper. We have to save my brother,” Hazel snapped, “I don’t care how dangerous you think it is.” 

Piper looked like she was going to retort, but Annabeth cut in. “Hazel is right, we have to go to Rome. It may be illegal, but it’s part of our quest.” 

No one argued, though Piper sank in her seat, sullen. She cast a despondent look toward Jason, who was lost in a dreamless state of sleep. Annabeth felt a tiny stab of envy at the peaceful expression on his face, her own thoughts plagued with turmoil. Besides Nico, Athena had laid another charge upon her and thinking about it made her queasy. 

Only Grover looked concerned at the look on her face, but he didn’t press. Annabeth excused herself to the head of the ship, where Leo was busy tinkering. His face was lined with soot and grease, and Annabeth caught a sharp whiff of machine oil and Tabasco sauce. She wrinkled her nose in confusion, before tapping Leo, lost in a haze of blueprints. 

He blinked, before his eyes widened and he sprang to his feet. Annabeth thought it was a little funny how nervous Leo got around her; it made her feel more like an able soldier and less like a confused demigod. 

“Relax,” she said, half laughing, “Your hand is smoking.” 

Leo dropped the hammer he’d been working on, patting his arms down to quench the flames. “Sorry.” 

“Leo,” Annabeth sighed, “Piper told me about the eidolons, I know the attack on the legion wasn’t your fault.” 

“What if they’re still inside me?” He searched his trembling fingers, looking at her worriedly, “What if this time I hurt you guys?” 

The incident had obviously gotten to him, and Annabeth remembered Percy getting angry at Leo. She’d been on the receiving end of godly ire a couple times, and it wasn’t exactly a fun experience. She’d need to use a different approach. 

“Piper will fix this,” she said firmly, “And there’s nothing you can do about it now. We need to move forward, Hazel’s brother has been kidnapped.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m tinkering for one minute and all the good stuff happens,” Leo muttered, “Pass me the monkey wrench, will you?” 

She sat down next to him, handing him the tool, along with a couple of her own blueprints. “Hey, I had a couple ideas about the propellers to make them more streamlined. I fashioned it when we were trying to rig our boat to Alaska.” 

Leo’s brows furrowed, and he nodded. “These make sense. I’m just worried about monster attacks.” 

“We can handle monster attacks,” Annabeth shrugged, “I’ve been a Huntress for fifteen years.” 

They worked in silence for a while, and Annabeth was struck with how much she had missed this. She had been the chief architect on Olympus for a while after the war, but she’d had to give it up after she’d become a Huntress. There just hadn’t been time for her to do both. 

With Artemis there hadn’t been as much of a focus on personal accomplishments, and everything was done for the good of the Hunt. She’d remembered her first time staking up a tent in record time, and Thalia had hardly blinked before handing her another one to set up. 

It had been a far cry from the lauds and accolades she’d expected when she was younger, imagining herself as the architect of something as grand as the Arch or the Colosseum. But pride had always been her fatal flaw, and joining the Hunt seemed like a good way to curb her more ambitious desires. 

But, right now? She was wistful for her time in Cabin 6, working away on Dadaelus’s laptop and poring over the blueprints he’d left her. There wasn’t even any time to have any real discussions with her mother beyond the usual formalities, but that wasn’t the way children of Athena stayed close to wisdom. 

Leo was smiling strangely, and she nudged him. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize I had another mechanic in the midst, I guess.” 

“I’m not a mechanic,” she said hurriedly, and Leo raised an eyebrow, “I’m more of an architect.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“There’s just something about building something that’s all yours, you know? Something to make a mark to last a lifetime.” She fell into a dreamy sigh, resting her chin in her hands. 

“I thought I was the only crazy nut here,” Leo snorted, screwing in a nail, “Wait till the others hear about this.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“I mean, it’s a little funny. You’re supposed to be this crazy cool huntress, but you’re actually a major nerd.” 

“Well, I’ve always loved architecture,” she insisted, “Ask anyone who’s ever known me.” 

“You really think we’ll be okay,” Leo looked at the thrusters with uncertainty, “I don’t know if they’ll hold in a fight.” 

She assured them that they would, tugging her silver charm deeper under the sleeve of her parka. Annabeth could already see Thalia shaking her head at her, and forced the thought away. 

Leo pulled hard on the lever and Annabeth felt the ship jerk upwards as he struggled to regain control. They eventually settled into a smooth glide and Annabeth stared at the sky with awe. White clouds littered the sky like little flakes of snow, and they covered the ship in a ghostlike mist. 

The waves crashed against the shores under them, rough and unyielding. Annabeth squinted; the waves seemed a lot slower than normal. Leo was lost in another daze, and Annabeth frowned. She could have sworn the sun should have set a couple hours ago. 

A sharp rap on the door brought her back to reality. Frank was looking at the two of them, one hand gripped firmly around his long spear. 

“Uh, Jason’s awake.” He paused, shooting a dirty glance at Leo, “Piper wants all potential eidolons downstairs.” 

Annabeth wasn’t too sure what was going on with Hazel, Frank, and Leo, but she didn’t have the energy to care about teenage drama. She was too old, for god's sake. Frank had already walked down the stairs, and Leo huffed before setting his hammer down. He muttered something about not knowing that Hazel was taken and the two of them walked down the corridor together. 

Piper was seated at the head of the table, her eyes blazing and head high. Her voice was a little shaky, but Annabeth could see waves of power rolling off of her. She’d never had the best relationship with children of Aphrodite (Artemis wasn’t exactly a fan), but Piper was someone she could respect. Maybe Artemis wasn’t right about everything. 

Jason was looking encouragingly at her, a little bruised but otherwise no worse for wear. Reyna too gave her a half smile, and Annabeth felt a little better. 

“Okay,” Piper faltered for a moment, “All eidolons, raise your hands.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to work—” Leo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his smile freezing into a hard line. 

Reyna’s hand, too, shot up, and Jason’s, whose eyes glimmered an unsettling gold. Frank and Hazel gave Annabeth worried looks, but she nodded. “You got this, Piper.” 

“Right, okay, um. What are you doing here?” 

When the spirit inside Jason spoke, his voice was deep and raspy. His face was contorted into an expression of pain. “We are undead spirits who walk again, and servants of the Earth Mother.”

“Are there more of you? Why have you come?” 

“No. We have come to disrupt and distract,” Not Reyna’s voice was hollow and throaty, “Only three of us could find a foothold.” 

“Oh?” Piper frowned, “You intended to possess all of us?” 

“The satyr is shielded by an empathy link,” Not Leo sneered, “We would be fools to tangle with the wrath of a god. That girl is an undead spirit too, and like objects cannot meld together. The boy is uncontrollable with too many gifts, and the huntress is well protected.” 

Not Leo met her gaze, his lips twisted into a half smile, like they were sharing some sort of a joke. Annabeth was overcome with a spasm of panic, and she clenched her fists. 

“Enough,” Piper’s power rippled across the room in waves, “Begone. You will never return to the Argo II.” 

“As you wish,” Not Jason said slyly.

“You will never again possess a member of this crew, and none of your brethren will be allowed to do so as well.” 

Not Jason’s eye twitched slightly, but he nodded. “It will be carried out.” 

Annabeth watched as the eidolons faded away, and she quickly raced to catch Leo before his head hit the floor. Piper caught Jason, and Hazel caught Reyna. Frank watched the three of them with horror, quickly backing away into the corridor. 

“He doesn’t do the posession thing that well,” Hazel apologized. 

“Neither do I,” Jason said significantly, “I owe you my life, Piper.” 

“We all do,” Reyna insisted, and Annabeth didn’t miss the way Piper’s cheeks flushed at the praise. Annabeth only hoped that they would all be able to coexist together from now on. 

“It’s lucky that Artemis protects you,” Piper added, looking at her, “I guess there are more perks to being a Huntress than I thought there were.” 

“Right.” Annabeth forced a smile. “That’s Artemis, only the nicest goddess in all of Olympus.” 

Grover’s shouts beckoned them all to the terrace of the ship, and they all looked out to see the sprawling streets of what looked to be Italy. She could spy little dots of people moving around, living their lives and completely unaware that the fate of the world was at stake. 

“I don’t understand,” Leo said amazed, “We traveled halfway across the world in less than a couple hours.” 

“I guess those thrusters really worked,” Piper squeezed his shoulder, “You’re the best, Leo.” 

Grover looked at Annabeth suspiciously, and she knew that he didn’t buy it. He didn’t suspect her, yet, but he also knew better than Leo being a total mechanical genius. Kronos might not have been there physically, but he had snuck upon the ship and wrapped himself into its interior. 

He’d frozen time so that they’d be able to get to Rome faster and have a chance at saving Nico. Annabeth just wasn’t sure what he was playing at —surely saving the grown son of Hades wasn’t high on his priority list—and she figured that he was playing a long game. 

It was the scythe charm that repelled the eidolons too, magic that was so ancient that they didn’t dare trifle with it. Gaea would be alerted of this, she was sure, but surely she already knew that her son was plotting against her. Greek families were so messed up that even the smallest slight could lead to a full out war. 

Her golden drachma burned in her pocket, and she shot a nervous glance at the (finally) settting sun. She would have to call Luke and make sure he got to camp okay; she hoped Octavian had given him a warmer reception that she’d gotten from him.  

The last rays of sunlight cast a pretty pink glow throughout the city as they docked, and Annabeth breathed a small sigh of relief. All they needed to do was find Nico and rescue him, which wasn’t the worst quest they might have been given.

They all stepped onto the gravelly stone path, winding into the plaza in the distance. She pulled her parka hood over her hair, freezing at the sound of nearing footsteps. 

Of course Kronos hadn’t accounted for the monsters they’d have to fight in Rome. Or maybe she’d been wrong about everything and he’d sent the monsters himself. Annabeth rolled her eyes; she’d been foolish to think that their quest would be that simple. 

“They’ve come with a greeting,” Jason tossed his coin into the air, and brandished his spear with a cocky smile. 

“I always appreciate a good welcome,” Annabeth grinned, crouching into a fighting stance. 

They were now beyond the help of the gods, lost to a realm where ancient magics had the most power. 

“I’m ready if you are,” Leo’s hands were flaming, and Annabeth glanced out to see determined glares and clenched fists. 

Gods, she sighed, Here we go again.

Chapter Text

Percy felt like he was having a midlife crisis. Normal people didn’t spend all their time obsessively baking batches of blue cookies or cupcakes. The oven timer beeped and he slid his tray in, plopping down on the kitchen stool. 

His mother cleared her throat and he looked toward her guiltily. “Percy,” she said slowly, “I don’t have space in the fridge for anything. The produce drawer is filled with cookies and the shelves are filled with cookies.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” He snuck a glance to the fridge, and then turned away. “I’m just a little bored. It’s not like I have anything else to do.” 

His mom had been sympathetic when he’d first come home and Paul had been kind too. They’d understood his frustration about being locked in the house, and unable to quest—even at the expense of their reputations. 

One of the neighbors had seen him, and Paul had swooped in with a crazy story about him being extended family. He’d enchanted himself a little stubble so that he wouldn’t look like a highschool junior (which took a little too much energy), but now everyone thought he was mooching off of Sally and Paul. 

Now, though? His mom was looking at him like he really was a crazy person and that he needed help. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to go out. Go have a little fun, Percy. Gods don’t have to be boring all the time, and your father was quite the dancer.”

“Spare me the details,” Percy mumbled, “Dancing is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Isn’t there anyone you can talk to about this,” Sally looked away, “You’re so young, and immortality seems like such a burden.” 

Considering the camps were preparing for an all out war and the gods were experiencing high levels of schizophrenia, he wasn’t too sure. When he’d gone to Camp Jupiter, he could tell that Sally had hoped he was getting better. But he’d shown no signs of improvement, and he knew she was worried. 

She wasn’t wrong about immortality being a burden. He didn’t like to think about his mom aging or Estelle getting older. He didn’t like to think about all the milestones he’d end up missing. 

I’m sorry for everything, but I can’t do this on my own. I need you.

The words echoed in his mind, accompanied by a flash of light. Percy frowned at the blue slice of cake that materialized in front of him. Sally shot him a questioning look and he shrugged. He couldn’t believe that he was actually being prayed to. There weren’t even that many people that knew he was a god. 

Well, except for the crew of demigods currently trying to stop Gaea. Chiron had expressly warned him not to interfere, but this was a godly request. He was well within his bounds to grant them aid. 

The call was coming from somewhere in Arizona, near the Grand Canyon. He stopped for a moment; he’d almost been sure that they’d gone farther than that. Percy felt his muscles tense, and closed his eyes firmly. If this was a trap, he could handle it. 

He materialized to the call, careful not to appear in his true godly form. Percy scanned the area around him, his gaze falling onto some sort of armored demigod. The armor was probably enchanted, judging from the faint shimmer that emitted. 

“Ahem.” Not exactly the most godly of things to say, but it did the job. 

Percy groaned when the demigod raised his head, sea green eyes meeting clear blue. “Seriously?” 

“I need a lift.” Luke Castellan crossed his arms, just as mean looking as he had been in real life. 

“I thought you were dead.” 

“I am,” Luke raised a hand, and Percy realized that the faint shimmer was actually part of his ghostly glow, “Annabeth’s sending me to Camp Jupiter, but my bus broke down.” 

“You met Annabeth?” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice, and felt color flood his cheeks. 

Percy was a little miffed that Luke had gotten to talk to Annabeth, even if he knew that things were different now. It was almost like she’d reset some sort of boundary when she’d become a huntress again, but he couldn’t help wanting to cross it. 

Above all else, she’d been one of his best friends and his mortal tether in the Styx. It had been the little things, the little touches that sent electric shivers through his body. When it had been the two of them alone the last morning he’d seen her, he’d felt like he was going to combust. He was beginning to accept that they would always have some sort of a connection no matter how much time had passed. 

The past couple years, he’d thought that he’d be okay with space from her. But, close proximity had rendered it impossible to keep her from his mind. It was like one encounter was all it took for all those pent up feelings to come flooding back. It was feelings of anger and disappointment, feelings he hadn’t properly dealt with the first time they broke up. 

And now she was on a quest, leaving him again. Percy shook his head with a bitter laugh. Annabeth probably had way too much on her plate right now to be thinking of him. 

Unfortunately, he had other things to deal with too; there were other people in his past who couldn’t stay away either. 

“Yeah.” Luke stretched, clearing his throat, “I sort of need to get there as soon as possible, because someone might be launching a full scale war.” 

Percy glared. He’d thought he was over the titan war, but seeing Luke again made him feel like he was sixteen all over again.“Huh, I wonder where I’ve heard that one before.” 

“Yeah, whatever. I wouldn’t call on you unless I didn’t think I could make it to California.” 

“How do I even know that she actually met you?” Percy rolled his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have known that you were a god otherwise,” Luke insisted, “Besides, she told me about how she lost her immortality getting into the Roman Camp and that she just got it back from Artemis.” 

Okay, maybe he had met Annabeth. It bothered Percy that Annabeth had trusted Luke, especially after everything he’d done to them. Sure, he’d chosen to save Olympus in the end, but it wasn’t like Percy had been able to forgive him for everything. He felt that irrational ugly spirit rear up his head, telling him to leave Luke behind in a ditch. 

Anyway, something was fishy. How had Annabeth just happened on Luke’s lost spirit? Luke’s shifty answers weren’t doing anything to make him feel better either. Percy followed behind Luke at a close distance, keeping a watchful eye. 

“You know,” Luke snorted, “If you want to ask anything—” 

“I don’t.” 

“Suit yourself. Are you going to get me to California?” 

Percy gave him a long, hard look. Despite everything, he was curious about Luke’s situation. “Fine, on one condition. I’ll be with you the whole time in disguise to make sure you don’t get up to anything suspicious.” 

Luke looked mildly affronted, but he agreed to the terms. It didn’t take more than a snap of Percy’s fingers before they were standing before the gates of Camp Jupiter. Focusing his energy, he lightened his hair to a shade of blonde similar to Luke’s. If he was going to trick the Romans, it would be easier to pretend he was a relative. 

“Who goes there?” A girl stepped forward, her reddish gold hair framing her green eyes. Percy thought he recognized her as Gwen, one of the centurions he’d met on the grand tour. 

“I’m Luke.” Luke stuck out an arm in greeting, his leg slightly bent in a feigned limp. “Me and my…my cousin Peter are just looking for some shelter.” 

Her eyes flickered over his long scar and then over to Percy. “Oh, come in. Octavian might be angry but I know Reyna would never have me turn away demigods.” 

Percy wrinkled his nose in distaste as they walked in; the Roman Camp had been reduced to a robotic battalion, void of all the life it had possessed. Cohorts trudged around aimlessly, and Octavian was lounged upon a golden throne, eating grapes without a care in the world. 

“Could you grant us some relief?” Luke bowed his head low, and Percy had to admit that he did the lowly act well. He was just the right amount of humble, with his face hidden so as not to reveal the smile playing on his lips. No wonder Kronos had kept him around so long. “We are legacies of Mercury.”  

Octavian looked bored. Something dark blazed in his eyes, and Percy was reminded of an eviler, slimier Luke. At least Luke had been ruggedly handsome; Octavian’s smile was too oily to be charismatic. 

“I suppose.” Octavian clapped his hands, before waving his finger, “I better not see any thievery.” 

“No, of course not.” Luke was smiling, like him and Octavian were sharing a joke. 

The brazier blazed with flames, and Octavian waved them away to the side. “And now, we prepare our armies. We will march to the Greek camp tomorrow morning.” 

Percy felt his jaw drop, and even Luke’s smile faded. He’d known the Romans had been angry, but he’d thought they’d had more time. He hadn’t expected Octavian to mobilize the forces so quickly; in hindsight they’d all underestimated him too much. 

At dinner, they spoke in quiet undertones. They’d been lucky to arrive just in time to catch the assault, any later and Luke would have been met with an empty camp. They might not be able to prevent the Romans from marching, but there was plenty of time to change their minds along the way. 

Percy had thought about revealing his true form, but he was too Greek for the Romans to truly revere him. They might listen to him out of fear, but they would constantly be plotting to undermine him as soon as his back was turned. Knocking out the entire Roman camp was an option, but Percy had a strong feeling that the two camps needed to work together. 

“Excuse me,” Percy turned to see Gwen and another centurion, Dakota, probably, tap him, “Octavian is ready for the war games.” 

“The what?” 

“He wants to see if you two are ready to travel with us tomorrow in the war campaign. He’d like you to spar with one another.” 

“Oh?” Luke’s eyes glittered with fire, a smirk on his face. “How about that, Peter? One last spar for old times sake?” 

The last spar he’d had with Luke had resulted in him almost dying from scorpion stings. All he’d wanted was some good coke and one last sword lesson and he’d been rewarded with betrayal. This time, he’d hold all the cards, and Luke was already dead. This time, he didn’t need to hold back. 

Maybe he’d even get a chance to teach him a lesson. 

“Bring it on.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Duck! On your left,” Piper’s voice was crisp and clear, and Annabeth felt herself roll to the floor. 

There were monsters on all sides of her, and little explosions everywhere she could see. She recognized them as the grain spirits on their trip to Alaska, and personally, she thought that having to deal with them again was a load of schist. 

She and Frank worked well together, her arrows easily being supplemented by his large bearlike form. He’d grown a lot more confident since they’d come back from his quest, his chest high and not shrunk back. He was owning his lifeline in a way that made Annabeth proud, and fought that much harder. 

All of them were making decent headway; Jason’s spear glinted with deadly force and Leo’s fireballs were doing serious damage. Even a worried Hazel was able to launch a barrage of gems and the oncoming spirits. 

As the last wheat spirit made its way to sink its claws into her, Annabeth brandished her dagger. It darted back, its mouth curving into a hard frown. 

“Wisdom’s daughter,” it rasped, and Annabeth’s eyes widened. She shot a worried glance at Grover, who motioned her closer. 

“What do you want?” 

“Wisdom’s daughter,” the voice repeated, “Pride of Athena. Your greatest foe awaits hidden deep in the caverns of Rome. She is too strong and you will fall.”

The rest of the demigods shot her questioning looks, but she fought to keep her expression calm. There would be time to dissect what the spirit said later. 

“Hazel Levesque,” the spirit hissed, and all eyes fell upon Hazel, “The Ghost King labors with his final breath. Give up and he will be returned to you, safe and sound. The twins will be watching you.” 

Hazel fell against Frank, who stood firm and tall. Jason grabbed his spear and slashed the spirit into two, sending golden dust everywhere. Piper squeezed Hazel’s shoulder, and Annabeth hugged her knees close to her chest. 

 When it was all over, Annabeth’s fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger, her breaths heavy and her stance firm. Although a faint shimmer of gold dust littered the air, there were little remnants of the monster attack besides a few uprooted bushes. 

They were sitting on the grassy lawn near the pier, staring across the sea. She was grateful that the monsters sent to greet them had been simple earth spirits, who were more annoying than challenging. Even the worst of their injuries had been small gashes and shallow cuts, which was nothing that ambrosia couldn’t fix. 

She shot a wary glance toward the sinking sun, and grabbed a drachma from her pocket. Annabeth wanted to check on Luke, but she wouldn’t be able to do so after night fell. She mumbled a quiet excuse about needing to use the bathroom and ducked behind one of the cliffs near the beach. Waves crashed into the shore steadily, sending mists of foamy spray into the air. If she squinted really hard, she could see a rainbow, probably. 

“O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering,” she lowered her voice, tossing a drachma into the ocean, “Show me Luke at Camp Jupiter.” 

The waves grew volatile, and the image flickered in and out of focus. Luke was bent over a table, scribbling something furiously into the table. His gloved hand gleamed, and she could see his ghostly glow through the mist. When he saw her, his eyes blazed and his lips pressed into a hard line. 

“Annabeth.” He was definitely scowling now, and she shivered. “Where are you?” 

“I’m in Rome. I suppose Kronos keeps his promises.” 

“In record time too,” Luke whistled, raising an eyebrow. “No monster attacks on the way?” 

“No, it was peaceful. Is everything okay? Was the bus ride okay?” She forced her voice to be cheerier, “Tell me it’s okay, Luke.” 

“Yeah.” He paused, like he was debating how much information to share with her, “The bus was good.” 

“What’s the camp like? Have they taken you in?” 

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “They’ve accepted me,” he frowned, “Except apparently you haven’t told me everything.” 

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“Octavian is spouting some crap about the Athena Parthenos. He says that you’re leading the quest to avenge your mother and destroy the camp. He says that we need to act now, and I barely got there in time.” 

Annabeth hesitated. “The Athena Parthenos? You mean the statue of my mom that went missing all those years ago?” 

“I guess. Do you know anything about that? Octavian won’t say anything more about it.” 

She shook her head, telling him about the weird encounter she’d had with her mom on Olympus. “She told me to find the mark of Athena, but I’ve been a little busy with other things. If the statue still exists, it would have a lot of power.”

Luke nodded. “Who was that other praetor, Reyna, right? She might know a couple things.” 

Telling everyone about her quest was the last thing she wanted, but she knew that she couldn’t avoid it any longer. 

“Sure, I’ll ask her,” she winced, “Gods, my wrist has been burning lately.” 

Luke gave her a hard look. “That means he wants something. At least it did for me.” 

“That’s not what our deal was,” she sputtered, but Luke rolled his eyes. 

“He may be helping you now, but his end goals are way different from yours. I just…I just need you to be careful, Annabeth.” 

It ruffled her a little bit that Luke thought he knew what was good for her, and she turned away. She didn’t need to be reminded of when they were younger and she would have followed him everywhere. Those days were long over. 

“That’s really good advice, thanks.” Annabeth’s tone was deadpan, and Luke sighed. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” 

Luke flushed, and Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She was about to press for answers when she heard a voice yelling for Luke, and he turned toward her with an apologetic wave. As she slashed the connection, she stared blankly at the moonlit sky, the stars glittering like diamonds. The voice had sounded awfully familiar, but it had to have been her imagining things. 

The ocean was wide before her, its calm waves taunting her from afar. Why does everything remind me of you?

Chapter Text

Percy wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his breath shallow as he narrowly dodged one of Luke’s strikes. Luke, it seemed, was just as good as he ever was, his blows falling with confident ease. His smile was bright, and he looked to the rapt crowd for encouragement. They’d been fighting for hours, and he still hadn’t found the chink in Luke’s armor. 

Frowning, Percy tried to stab his way in, but Luke parried it away with remarkable speed. He hadn’t really trained since the war, he’d never expected to swordfight after, but fighting Luke was taking a considerable amount of energy. Luke’s eyes glinted, and Percy realized why he’d been such a dangerous opponent back then. 

Even now, he wasn’t sure that this all wasn’t another trick, another way to drag him back into a nightmare. He had a twisted feeling in his gut that he’d wake up back in Camp Half-Blood, with Luke offering him a Coke for old times sake. 

Once a scorpion, always a scorpion. 

Annabeth had always been the more trusting one; it had irritated him that she’d seen good in Luke during the war after everything he’d done to her. She’d been right, in the end, but that never meant that Percy had forgiven him. 

“I thought you were a god,” Luke’s voice was low, his sword edging dangerously close to Percy’s side, “I thought you would be more of a challenge.” 

Percy knew that if Luke landed a hit, his golden blood would expose them to a bloodthirsty Octavian. He was watching them now, hand absentmindedly stroking a mutilated teddy bear. Percy shuddered; if there was any indication that the man was a monster, that was it. 

But, Luke’s taunts grew harsher and his eyes flickered with mania. In all the excitement, Percy worried, he’d forgotten the reason they were here. He knew he could snap his fingers, vaporize Luke in an instant, but that would risk exposing them too early. 

And anyway, Annabeth, apparently, had wanted Luke to lead the Romans. Resolved, Percy sucked in a breath, forcing his feet into a clumsy stance, and let Luke knock the sword right out of his hand. He fell to the floor, and watched in surprise as Luke extended an arm to pick him up. 

“Victory to you,” Percy said once on his feet, his voice hollow. 

Luke watched him carefully, amused if not a little disappointed. That strange mania had faded, and his eyes shone a bright, clear blue.  “We’ll finish that match one day,” he said, and then added, “You were a gracious opponent.” 

The arena burst into cheers, and Percy stepped back. Their match had gone on long enough, and they were pleased with what they’d seen. He shot a glance at Octavian, whose face had settled into a scowl, and bit back a smile. 

Gwen moved up next to Percy; he thought he remembered Jason talking about her as capable and sweet. It was probably important to start remembering potential allies. 

“You did good,” she said, hesitating, “You and your cousin are both gifted.”

Percy gave her a wry smile. “It’s okay. Luke’s always been better at the sword stuff, he’s the one who taught me.” 

She nodded, slowly. “I think Octavian will want you both on our war campaign.” 

“Don’t you think rushing into war is a little bit,” Percy paused, trying to find the right words, “rash?” 

“No.” Gwen’s voice was matter of fact. “The Greeks betrayed us, and so did all three of our praetors. The legion deserves revenge.”

“Doesn’t the fact that they left mean that maybe the Greeks have a point?” 

Gwen knitted her brows together, and shook her head. “I don’t know. But, I do know that real praetor wouldn’t just leave the legion in the hands of Octavian.” 

Percy sighed. “And that makes following him right?” 

“There’s no one else,” Gwen glanced at Luke, before adding, “I mean, there might be, now. But half the legion is too afraid to go against him.” 

“Sometimes our leaders, people we trust, betray us,” Percy said, the memory sour, “That doesn’t make it right to do something you don’t believe in.” 

Gwen smiled. “I’ll think about it, Peter. You certainly are interesting, aren’t you?”

“I am known to shake things up.” Wherever he was, Percy hoped that his dad was smiling. 

Gwen melted into the crowd soon after that, and Percy waited for Luke to be freed from the horde. Octavian had walked up to him, to offer congratulations, and his smarmy smile never left his face. Finally, they walked back to their cabin, silent, and Percy stared out into the distance. 

The stars shone bright, and Percy wondered where the Argo II was now. He wondered if they were staring up at the same sky. 

Luke broke the silence. “I think I’m going to Iris-message Annabeth.” 

Percy glanced up. “Oh, great. I need to ask her—” 

Luke shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should call her alone.” 

“How come?” Percy’s voice was laced with venom. “What the hell is even going on here, Luke? Annabeth just finds you? You want to call her alone?” 

Luke’s eyes hardened. “I just don’t think she’d want to talk to you. She seemed really uncomfortable when I brought you up.” 

Percy frowned. Luke might be lying, hiding to protect a bigger secret. But, Annabeth and him weren’t really close enough to warrant pressing more. He also wasn’t supposed to be interfering with their quest at all. He made a mental note to ask Grover to keep a closer eye on her. 

“I’ll just take a walk then.” 

Luke nodded, tightly, before disappearing into the shadows of his room. Percy wanted to punch him, really hard. He wanted to barge into the room and demand answers, but he also wanted to protect the fragile peace he and Annabeth had woven since he’d left the Argo II. 

If anything, Annabeth would shut him out again, and they’d be in an even worse place than when they’d started. He was still wary of Luke and his ultimate goals, but he needed to take a leap of faith. He might not have trusted Luke, but he did trust Annabeth. 

She was the strongest demigod he knew. So, he buckled up his pride, and made his way to the courtyard.  

The fires in the courtyard still blazed brightly, and Percy stared at them, his head tilted. He heard someone clearing his throat behind him, and jumped. Octavian was staring at him, eyes wild in the firelight. 

“Peter,” Octavian stuck out a hand, “I don’t believe we have formally met.” 

Percy shook his hand, forcing a smile. “It’s an undue pleasure, Praetor Octavian. How can I help you?” 

“Your cousin, Luke,” Octavian said, “he bested you, today. He’s already quite popular amid our troops.”

Percy gritted his teeth. “That’s Luke for you. He could charm a widow out of her last penny.” 

It’s an unflattering way of putting it, but Octavian’s eyes glimmered in a way that told him he had passed an unspoken test. Percy took a step back, carefully, as Octavian went on. 

“There are some on my council that believe Luke could be an ideal co-praetor with me. But, I see greatness in all sorts of places. What good is a praetor that has not clawed for their power?” 

Octavian’s gaze was heavy, and Percy offered a non-commital shake of his head. His offer was tempting, but Percy knew that he wasn’t looking for a praetor. He was looking for a way to eliminate potential obstacles. They’d come here looking for a way to put Luke beside Octavian, but now Octavian was offering a chance to Percy. 

Percy didn’t trust Luke as far as he could throw him, but he trusted Octavian far less. If they were ever going to make any changes in New Rome, Octavian needed to be ousted from power. He could run with Luke, sure, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted as not interfering. 

They’d need to find someone trustworthy, and Roman, and—

“Peter,” Octavian cleared his throat, and Percy attempted his most smarmy grin. 

“I agree, I don’t think Luke is the right fit for New Rome. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow.” 

Octavian closed his eyes. “Yes, tomorrow.” 

Percy’s smile dropped when Octavian walked away, and he definitely had nothing to do with the sudden cloudburst that popped over his head at the moment. Octavian’s yelps would prove an effective lullaby. 

“Luke,” he called when he’d returned to their cabin, “Luke.” 

He heard the iris-connection break, and Luke appeared in the doorway, an eyebrow raised. “How was your walk?” 

Percy thought of a soaked Octavian, grumbling and griping as he trudged home. “Great. But we’ve got bigger problems.” 

Annabeth glanced at her wrist, and the searing red mark imprinted by her bracelet. Luke’s words rang like a bitter warning bell in her mind, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Ignoring Kronos seemed like a bad idea, but talking to him would make her worst fears into a reality. 

She couldn’t ignore it forever, though. The waves crashed against the craggy coast, strangely cathartic. But, maybe she could pretend for another night. And risk awful dreams. 

“Fine,” she said aloud, “What do you want, Kronos?”

The silvery scythe on her bracelet glowed, and she averted her eyes as the beach was suddenly flooded with white light. When she blinked, a misty white form of Kronos appeared before her, so wispy she thought she might swat it away. 

As though he could read her thoughts, he glared. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Annabeth gritted her teeth. “Thank you for bringing us to Rome. I’d appreciate it, however, if you didn’t burn my wrist everytime you wanted to talk to me.” 

“It’s pretty effective,” Kronos said, and she thought he might be grinning, “Just ask Silena. Or Luke.” 

Annabeth wanted to strangle him so hard, but Kronos interrupted her. “I need something from you.” 

“That’s not how this deal works,” Annabeth reminded him, “You can’t just order me around.” 

“I can,” Kronos said carefully, “As long as there is no direct harm to you and your friends.” 

Annabeth didn’t answer at first, suddenly regretting all her decisions. Why had she ever thought that she could outsmart the Crooked One? She blamed her fatal flaw for that one. 

Kronos went on. “Go to the store that sells broken rag dolls on the Via del Corso. In the fifth aisle you will find a white box, and you must take that box to the Tiber River.” 

“What’s in the box,” she asked suspiciously. 

“Me,” Kronos said, laughing. “I was blown up quite a bit, and I have to gather up pieces of myself again. Once you summon me there, the proximity to the Tiber should allow me to absorb it.” 

Annabeth wanted nothing more than to gag, but she settled for wrinkling her nose. She was surprised that he’d even told her. “That’s disgusting, I’m not helping you rise to power again.” 

“It’s only a piece,” Kronos shrugged, “It won’t make me immediately dangerous.” 

He was right, so she rolled her eyes and agreed. She asked Kronos if he knew anything about the Mark of Athena, not surprised when the thought sent him shaking with laughter. 

“You, little huntress? You are going to find the mark, are you now?” He was wiping tears off his eyes, and Annabeth felt her anxiety skitter over her body and claw up her spine. 

He doesn’t expect me to make it back alive, she realized, and then thought, Neither does my mother. 

Talking to the titan seemed pointless, so she slashed the connection before he could say anything else. Her wrist didn’t burn, so she thought that maybe he wasn’t too mad. 

She snuck back to the Argo II, where everyone was washing up the dishes after dinner. Laughter bubbled out of the kitchens; she was happy to see that everyone was finally getting along. Well, she amended, glancing out the corridor, not everyone. 

Shrouded in shadow, Reyna leaned against the pillar, her eyes flashing. They’d reached a common understanding before the attack on New Rome, but now Annabeth could feel the distrust in Reyna’s gaze. 

“You weren’t at dinner.” It was a half concealed accusation, and Annabeth bit back a frown. 

“No.” Annabeth shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. “I wasn’t really hungry, and it was nice outside.” 

Reyna quirked an eyebrow at that, shaking her head. “I see. The others left you a pork chop in the kitchen.”

She turned away, and Annabeth grabbed her arm. “Wait. There’s something I need to talk to you about.” 

She hadn’t told anyone besides Percy, and she’d sort of been forced to tell Luke, but she needed to take a leap of faith. Reyna’s dark eyes widened when Annabeth told her about the last time she’d been up on Olympus, and what she thought her quest was meant to be. 

“That is not good.” Reyna’s voice was quiet, heavy. “The story of the Athena Parthenos is not a happy one.” 

Annabeth listened as Reyna told her about the ancient Romans, at their wits-end about the Greeks. There was only one way to tear their spirit, and that was to take the very thing that gave them their vigor. 

“The Athena Parthenos.” Annabeth said, her voice a whisper. 

The Athena Parthenos was forty feet tall and made of pure gold, with the power of Athena herself. Stealing her was as good as stealing the Greek’s wisdom, and desecrating Athena forever. 

“It’s a shameful story for the Romans,” Reyna admitted, “It is not a tactic I ever agreed with, but I can understand their desperation.” 

 “It’s exactly what the Greeks need,” Annabeth said, her eyes wide, “What we all need to prevent a civil war.” 

Reyna’s words held a tinge of sadness. “It may already be too late for that, Annabeth. If I know Octavian, he will not accept this slight. He may already be marching to your camp already.” 

“But—” Reyna held up a hand to silence her. 

“If I’d been there, I might have bought you some time. But the Romans will be angry, to have not one, but three praetors ultimately betray them.” 

Annabeth flushed. She’d hardly been a praetor, but she knew what Reyna meant. The legion had been expecting a happy reunion with Jason Grace, but had been met with bloodshed and broken promises. She didn’t need to be a daughter of Athena to recognize what Octavian would do with that emotion. 

“We must tell the others of your quest,” Reyna beckoned her to the dining room, but Annabeth looked away. 

“There’s Nico to think about.” Annabeth said, worried. She liked Nico, but she couldn’t possibly see how splitting up would save him

“Have faith.” Reyna said quietly, and Annabeth met her gaze. She was offering her a half smile, and Annabeth accepted the olive branch. At least one Roman had forgiven her. 

The other demigods were strewn throughout the room when she walked in with Reyna, all caught up in their own reverie. Piper and Jason were on the balcony, with interlaced fingers and flushed cheeks. Leo and Frank were caught up in a heavy discussion, and Hazel had fallen asleep on one of the couches. 

“Ahem.” Annabeth said, and everyone looked toward her. 

“Hey,” Piper said brightly, “Long time no see. You hungry? There’s a—” 

“Pork chop in the kitchen,” she finished, “I know.” 

Piper crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “I was going to say a tofu burger, but yeah, I guess there’s a meat option too.” 

“You have any sudden epiphanies we should know about?” Leo called from the back of the room, “Because Hazel was supposed to find Nico, but she’s knocked out.” 

Hazel jolted awake at the mention of her name, looking anything but well-rested. A bead of sweat laced the edge of her temple, and she turned away. Whatever she’d seen in her dream, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. 

Annabeth knew what that felt like, so she steamrolled on and told everyone about Athena. Reyna piped in with her theories about the statue, and Jason agreed with her; they’d grown up hearing the same legends. 

“So it’s a solo quest,” Frank’s face was filled with concern, and Annabeth wanted to hug him. But she put on a brave mask and acted like it was no big deal, like she went on quests alone all the time. 

She fielded a few more questions, and they came up with a plan. She knew where she needed to go first, thanks to Kronos, and then the rest of the crew had their own quests to save Nico. The others looked beat, so Jason called it a night and the others moved to file out of the room. 

“Wait, Annabeth.” Grover called after her as she started to leave. 

She felt her stomach erupt into butterflies, and forced herself to stay calm. Grover knew she’d been acting suspicious, but she couldn’t give him any added fuel to feed the fire. 

“Hey. You didn’t say anything the whole meeting,” she nudged him gently, “Everything okay?” 

“No one’s ever come back alive,” he said, wrestling out the words with difficulty, “I promised him I’d keep you safe.” 

Her heartbeat quickened. “Promised who?” 

Grover gave her a significant look. “You know who, Annabeth. He still cares about you, we all do. We lost you for eight months.” 

“That’s nothing to a god,” she said, her voice flat. “And I can protect myself.”

“Maybe. But this is really dangerous, and you’re putting on a brave face for everyone else.” 

“Of course I’m scared,” she choked on the words, “But I have to do this or the camps will go to war.” 

“Fate is a funny thing,” Grover mused, sighing, “But you always have a choice, and I will never fault you for the path you choose to take.”

“You made the hard choice,” she said, squeezing his hand and his eyes widened, “And you came back, remember?” 

His eyes softened. “Yeah, I did. Thanks to you and Percy. You know I always have your back.” 

She hugged him, tight, memories flooding to the surface and wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “Yeah, I know.” 

He handed her something in a closed fist, and Annabeth looked inside to see a blue jelly bean. “Wow. Thanks for thinking of me if I crave anything sweet.” 

“In case you need it,” Grover insisted. 

“I doubt a single jelly bean will make Percy want to come save me.” 

She wanted to say that gods needed bigger sacrifices, but that wasn’t true for Percy. His heart was just too pure. 

“No,” Grover agreed, “Not with that attitude.” 

Her jaw dropped a little, and she turned away, a smile threatening to break out over her face. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Chapter Text

It was well past sunrise, and rays of sunlight wafted into the room. Percy thought that Luke had been rather unfazed about Octavian’s scheming. He’d just clapped Percy on the back and laughed, saying that he would have liked to see Octavian try. 

He’d still been tight-lipped about his iris messages with Annabeth, and Percy was growing restless. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take Luke calling the shots. 

“Be ready in fifteen,” Luke sat up, well-rested. Percy hadn’t even thought that ghosts needed sleep, but he guessed it was just a habit Luke hadn’t broken yet. 

“This is not okay,” Percy groaned, “This is an ungodly hour. Why are the Romans so disciplined?” 

“It does make you miss camp.” Luke agreed, a flicker of a smile on his face, “I think the Romans would pass out if they saw Camp Half-Blood.” 

Irritation flashed across Percy; he and Luke would not be bonding. “Yeah, I can tell. I think they would pass out if they knew you were a traitor to Olympus, too. I think Octavian might behead you himself.” 

Luke growled in frustration, and Percy stepped away. Things might have been tense, but he wasn’t (actually) looking for a fight. 

“I’ll go take a walk,” Percy said eventually, an apology stuck in his throat, “I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

Luke didn’t answer, and Percy walked out toward the beach. Romans were just beginning to trickle into the mess hall, and thankfully there was no Octavian in sight. He passed his father’s shrine, smelling hints of salt spray. Percy wondered if his father was okay, or completely torn apart by the conflict between the camps. 

At least he only had a Greek side to worry about. 

The earth underneath his feet shook and he crouched defensively. The dirt swirled underneath him and he backed away, his heart hammering. Gaea emerged from the soil, eyes closed and hair adorned with vines and flowers. 

He attempted to swipe at her form, but she quickly patched up any holes that he managed to poke through. Her smile was mocking, and Percy felt his blood begin to boil. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he frowned, “The camp has protections.” 

You cannot protect yourself from the earth, stupid boy , Gaea said, It is everywhere. The camp has welcomed me within.

Percy hated how she called him boy, like everything he’d accomplished meant nothing. She made him feel like he was sixteen again, unsure and afraid. 

“What do you want?” 

   To send a message , Gaea smiled, To let you know that the daughter of wisdom will fail. 

“Annabeth’s never failed,” Percy said firmly, “I think it’s coded in her DNA or something.” 

Amusing, but clownery will not disguise the truth. You are needed here to dispel the conflict between the demigods. Admirable that you try, but foolish. 

“Why,” a hint of doubt crawled into Percy’s voice, “Why would it be foolish?” 

Because this camp will need a god to lead them to peace. But you will be preoccupied with your precious Annabeth. And both camps will burn to the ground, destroying the gods.

“Annabeth’s okay. She’s more than okay. She doesn’t need saving.”

Perhaps not now, Gaea admitted, But her protections will not last forever and you must make a choice, Perseus. The girl or the world. But, you cannot save both. 

For a brief moment, his mind wondered about the protections cast upon Annabeth. They had to be Artemis’s blessings, sustained throughout. Percy shook his head; he needed to stop wondering about things that didn’t matter. 

“Yes, I can,” Percy snapped, “You know what I think? I think you’re full of a bunch of crap and you’re trying to distract me.”

Do not be angry, silly god. You are so young, and you do not understand. You would not do well to oppose me. Her words sent a rumble through the earth. 

Remember I told you to heed my warning. 

Gaea dissolved into the ground, and Percy gasped. Her words had struck a nerve within him, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He’d always been able to save everyone and the world, but now Gaea was telling him that it wasn’t possible. 

He knew what the right choice was, the choice that Annabeth would tell him to make. If all else failed, he had to make sure that the camps did not destroy one another and the foundation of the gods. But, how could he just let Annabeth die, after everything they’d been through?

They hadn’t talked for years, but he’d always known that she was right there. He’d seen her at a distance, from time to time, and that had been enough. Percy had been devastated when she’d disappeared for all those months, and he didn’t know if he could handle her disappearing for good.  

He remembered Athena talking to him about his fatal flaw, and how everyone had been worried that his choice would destroy Olympus. In the end, he hadn’t been the real hero of the prophecy, but he had to make a real decision now. He couldn’t imagine leaving Chiron and his campers to die.      

Percy was being stretched in two directions. 

The selfish part of him had already made a decision, but he couldn’t even vocalize it because it would make him sick. He missed Grover so, so much. 

Percy wasn’t supposed to make the big decisions anymore; he wasn’t supposed to be a puppet to Olympus anymore. Maybe he’d been looking at it all wrong. Maybe godhood had only reinforced the strings. 

He tried to imagine talking to Luke, but he couldn’t. He had a feeling that they’d make the same choice, and that made him feel gross. Percy didn’t want to have anything in common with Luke. 

Sighing, Percy made his way toward the mess hall, ordering a little bit of food. 

Luke stabbed at his omelette, the white and yellow bits swirling together into a goopy mess. He couldn’t actually eat, so he was trying to shove the bits to the side of his plate. A shadow hung over his face, and he’d been unsettlingly silent the whole morning. 

“What did that egg do to you?” Percy took a sip of his blue soda, “Seriously, I’m going to throw up.” 

Luke glared. “How can you eat right now? Octavian is plotting against us, and we march against Camp Half-Blood in an hour, and—”

He stopped suddenly, and Percy’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the implications of that sudden pause. He didn’t like how Luke acted like he was in on some big secret either or judged him all the time. So what if he wanted to eat? It might have been a stress response. 

Percy thought that Luke was enjoying ordering him around a little too much. 

“Maybe,” Percy said slowly, “Octavian would give me a better offer. Especially if he knew that public enemy #1 was eating breakfast right here.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Luke balled his fingers into a fist, his voice livid. “We’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

“Then, no more secrets,” Percy countered, “You and Annabeth might have a deal, but I’m in charge of you now. I have the power here.” 

“No,” Luke’s voice was quiet, like he knew something Percy didn’t, “You don’t.” 

Percy’s eyebrows furrowed, and Luke threw his hands up, sighing. “Look,” he went on, “I can’t tell you everything, okay? That’s up to Annabeth.” 

“But—” 

“You’re right,” Luke said, “I haven’t been truthful to you, and I’m sorry. What I can tell you is that I was talking to Annabeth about her special quest last night.” 

 “The charge,” Percy remembered, “The Mark of Athena.” 

The doomed quest. But Gaea wasn’t one of the Fates; she had no way of predicting the future. She was only lying to distract Percy from uniting the camps as one. 

“Right,” Luke nodded, “I’ve heard murmurings about it. Kronos always thought it was a fool’s errand, and he told me that no one ever came back alive.” 

Percy froze, shaking his head. “And Annabeth’s still doing it? Why?”

If she avoided the quest, he wouldn’t have to make the hard decision. 

Luke’s smile was bitter. “It’s not that easy to say no to our parents. I learned that lesson the hard way. And you know Annabeth, always looking for something to prove.” 

He did know Annabeth, always searching for the approval of her mother. He’d seen the sadness on her face when she’d told him about Athena lashing out. But, Annabeth wasn’t stupid. If there was anyone who could pull off a near-impossible mission, it was her. 

Still, Percy had a feeling that the supposedly doomed quest wasn’t the biggest thing worrying Luke. Hope was a given for demigods; even surviving till college was beating the odds. No, Luke was acting as though Annabeth might already be dead. Just like Gaea had been. 

It probably had something to do with the fact that Luke was no longer in the Underworld. That could be explained by Gaea opening up the doors of death, but if Luke was an escaped spirit, wouldn’t he be helping Gaea? 

Luke might look troubled if he was worried about betraying Annabeth again. There was something about Luke that was still bothering him. Percy’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Luke, attempting to glean the truth. 

However, he wasn’t good at sifting through lies. His fingers shook, the soda glass feeling oddly squishy in his hand. 

“Percy,” Luke warned, “I’m on your side.”

“Or you’re an agent for Gaea.”

Luke raised his eyebrows, like that couldn’t be the farthest thing from the truth. But Percy had fallen for Luke’s tricks before. 

The glass shattered in his hand, blue soda splashing over the table and on Luke’s face. He shimmered a little brighter, the room glowing white. 

“Great,” Luke snapped, “There goes breakfast.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t hide things from me.”

“I’m not,” Luke said, exasperated, “You’re the one who’s screwing this up. Talk about keeping a low profile.”

Percy flushed with anger, venom seeping into his words. Who was Luke to tell him anything? He wasn’t twelve anymore, and Luke definitely wasn’t the boss. “Watch yourself. Or soda will be the least of your worries.”

“Okay, okay. I just told you I was sorry. And we need to work together.”

Luke hadn’t done anything harmful yet, Percy amended. Maybe he was just too caught up in old mistakes. 

“I want to talk to Annabeth,” Percy said, “I don’t care if she likes it or not. If we’re working together, then you can’t keep me out of stuff.”

“Fine,” Luke said, nodding. “We can call her— , ”

Luke’s gaze hardened, and Percy whirled around to see Octavian approaching, a little too much swagger in his step. Percy’s heart sank, and he exchanged a worried glance with Luke. Gwen was by Octavian’s side; she’d looped her hair into a braid, and she wasn’t smiling. 

“Peter.” Octavian clapped him on the back, before acknowledging Luke with a slight bow of his head, “I hope you are ready. We have a long journey ahead.” 

“Oh, sure.” Percy grimaced, sarcasm dripping off his words, “I’m so excited. Death to the Greeks, and all that.”

“Precisely,” Octavian nodded, oblivious, “Gwen will help you pack your bags. I want you riding with me.” 

Great. Percy tugged at a lock of his sandy hair, and internally sighed. Maybe if he looked a little bit more like himself, Octavian wouldn’t have felt so drawn towards him. He already had Grover as a best friend; he didn’t need this slimy dude following him around everywhere. 

Luke, thankfully, spoke up. “Is it wise to go to war with a single praetor? I mean, I think it’ll make us look weak.” 

Octavian’s voice was controlled, but Percy watched his eyes flicker with annoyance. “How kind of you to point that out. But, I’m afraid there’s no time for another election.” 

“We didn’t have an election for Annabeth,” Gwen said, a little shaky, “In war, things work differently.” 

“Annabeth,” Octavian seethed, “was an outsider. She, along with Reyna and Jason, betrayed the legion. How can we follow her example?”

Percy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Still, Luke’s not wrong. If you had to pick a candidate, who would it be?” 

Octavian glared at him, and then composed himself. “Yes, Peter. I think I should choose the candidate as praetor—”

“No,” Gwen straightened up, her voice carrying through the assembled crowd, “If there’s no time for an election, then we do trial by combat. Like Romans.” 

There were low murmurs in the crowd, most of them agreements. Percy turned to Gwen. “Hey,” he said in an undertone, “What’s this trial by combat thing?” 

Gwen looked at him, worriedly. “If you’re riding with Octavian, I should get your bag ready.”

She melted into the crowd without another word, and Percy just stared after her. Octavian went on about the rules of combat, slowly and as though it pained him. It sounded pretty standard to Percy, just regular one on one fights until the final. 

“Winner is whoever draws first blood,” Octavian continued, sparking a distant memory. Percy knew he’d had his fair share of duels over the years, but Ares was always the one that stuck out the most. “I, of course, will not be participating as I am already a real praetor.” 

His choice of words was clear. Whoever was chosen through the contest would have to deal with Octavian when they won. Dakota shrunk away, the weight of Octavian’s glare harsh and unfeeling. 

In the end, a couple of the senior centurions put their names forward, none of them looking too excited when Luke put his name in. Luke had a confident air about him, his grip on his sword firm and assured. 

“Peter, why don’t you give it a try,” Octavian leaned in, as though they were sharing a dirty secret, “You know I will give you my utmost support.”

Percy wondered if Octavian ever took a rest from his scheming. “I don’t want to win like that,” he said back quietly, “A praetor must lead with honor.”

It might cost him his weird friendship with Octavian, but it wasn’t outright showing his support for Luke. He hoped Octavian would think he was biding his time in the shadows. 

“Hm. If you ever do change your mind…” Octavian’s gaze was unreadable, and he stepped away. He rattled off a list of names to begin the first fight, Luke included. 

Percy caught Luke’s arm. “Wait, Luke. You can’t let them even get close, or they’ll know you can’t bleed.” 

“Yeah, I got it.” Luke grinned, “Relax, I’ll be fine.” 

Still, Percy couldn’t help holding his breath when Luke entered the ring. One wrong misstep and their entire plan would be exposed. No one would ever trust them, and Octavian would burn Camp Half-Blood to the ground. 

He needn’t have worried. Luke walked into the ring, light on his feet and a twinkle in his eye. His opponents were off balance before they’d even begun. 

Luke was spry and dodged any stabs with lighting speed, a quip always at the tip of his tongue. 

This was the guy that had almost brought the gods to their knees. Whose choice had determined whether Olympus would survive to see another day. 

Luke stuck the edge of his sword right under the other centurion's throat, a single drop of crimson staining the earth. 

“Winner.” Octavian said, not bothering to hide his distaste. “Break for ten minutes and we will continue.”

Luke emerged from the ring, a wide smile broken out over his face. “That was easy. I’ll win this in no time.”

“Easy,” Percy said, but he was smiling too. “We can go again if you want a real challenge.”

“Sure,” Luke hesitated, “We should tell Annabeth about this new development.”

At least he was trying to make amends. Percy sucked in a breath, looking away. 

“I thought I could snoop around Octavian’s shed a little bit. See what I can dig up.”

“That’s actually smart,” Luke agreed, and Percy rolled his eyes, “Try to make it back for my final fight.”

Strapped in armor, Luke disappeared among the other fighters and Percy slunk away in the opposite direction. His eyes narrowed at the sight of tendrils of reddish gold hair, and leaned forward with curiousity. It was Gwen, apparently still packing his bag.

Gwen was an interesting case. She seemed nice enough, but she was deep in cahoots with Octavian, which wasn’t the greatest thing. Still, she could prove a potential source for dirt.   

Only one way to find out. Glancing around him, Percy tiptoed toward the shed, light on his feet. When he was through, Octavian would never smile again.

That night, Annabeth dreamt of darkness. A cold gust of wind wrapped around her, sending a deep chill through her bones. She felt suffocated by everything that she couldn’t see, constricting and wrapping around her. 

Foolish and a failure. Wisdom’s daughter indeed. The voice was mocking, soft. Annabeth felt a wave of indignation surge within her, defending words on the tip of her tongue. And yet she stayed silent. A part of her thought that her mother didn’t deserve her mercy, but the other part wanted Athena to pull her close and tell her everything was going to be okay. 

She was only human, after all. But Athena wasn’t, and their relationship would never be normal. Annabeth had envied Percy for so many years; him and Sally had a closeness that she’d only imagined possible. When Percy had become a god, she’d found solace in Sally, and Sally had found solace in her. She didn’t think Sally had ever let on how much Percy’s choice had affected her. 

She was a good mom that way. 

Annabeth wondered if Athena could ever love so unconditionally; love that wasn’t a reward or based on accomplishments. It was unfair to compare Athena to someone like Sally, and gods never expressed themseleves the way people did. Even Lady Artemis could be cold and unfeeling and calculated. 

Her charm glowed, casting light on her surroundings. She was deep in some caverns, tiny spiders skittering around the floor and up the walls. Annabeth gulped; she thought that she might have preferred it completely dark. 

The light did not completely illuminate the voice that had spoken, but Annabeth could see the faint shadow that the voice cast. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies and she sucked in a breath. Tapestries lined the walls; blues and reds and greens that described the history of Rome. 

She thought she spied a girl with blonde curls, fighting alongside a raven-haired boy. History was being crafted all the time, she realized, with a pang of worry. In the end, they were all only fleeting moments in the grand tapestry. 

The flickering seed of an idea bloomed in her mind. If they were all threads, woven together, then perhaps…

Her fingers touched the thread, suddenly overwhelmed by white light. She blinked and she was in Camp Jupiter, staring out into the sea. A sandy haired boy was sitting on the edge of the cliff, and she swallowed. 

He might have changed his hair, but she could recognize him everywhere. 

“Percy.” She said the words softly, willing him to hear her. He turned for a moment, squinting into the mist with widened eyes. 

“Annabeth.” He made his way closer to her, whispering her name like a prayer. “You’re here.” 

She smiled, raising an eyebrow. “So are you. I didn’t think you liked Camp Jupiter so much.” 

“Well,” he said, rolling his eyes, “You know I’d never turn down a prayer.” 

“From who, Octavian?” Annabeth snorted, shaking her head. 

His brows knitted in confusion. “No,” he said slowly, “From Luke. He was stranded somewhere in Arizona. I thought you knew I was helping him.” 

Her blood ran cold like ice; she had heard Percy that night when she’d called Luke. He’d just conveniently kept that information from her, for some reason. A sense of unease washed over her, but there was no point in dwelling over it now. Maybe this could even be a good thing, and Percy could keep an eye on him. 

“What did he tell you?” She tried to keep her voice calm, not wanting to let him discern anything. 

Percy’s eyes narrowed, not convinced by her forced smile. “Not nearly enough. He mentioned some crap about running into you, and you asking him to stop Octavian’s siege on camp.” 

Annabeth let out a sigh of relief. At least Percy didn’t know about her deal with Kronos, which was what really mattered. “Oh, I did,” she said, “Luke said that things were going well.” 

“Of course he did,” Percy’s jaw clenched, “We’ve getting ready to march east; we’re trying to calm tensions down, but Leo’s little stunt didn’t help matters.” 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Annabeth said, immediately defensive, “There were these eidolons—” 

“Eye-of-what?” 

“I think they're dead spirits or something? Servants of Gaea.” 

“Sure, why not.” Percy shuddered, looking away.  

“Never mind. Leo was possessed, but he’s all better now.”

“He is? And how did you figure that part out?”

Percy’s probing was making her anxious, as though he was on the cusp of figuring out her deeper secret. “It’s not my first quest, Percy. Piper used her charmspeak, and she booted them out.”  

He seemed to sense the simmering tension between them, and gave her a sheepish smile. “I know. I guess I just miss being on a quest sometimes.” 

Annabeth gave him a tight nod. “We’re in Rome now, and, well, I’m probably going to start my quest soon.” 

She let her words hang in the air for a moment, watching Percy process it carefully. He’d never been able to hide his emotions, and she could feel the worry radiating off of him. 

He paused, frowning. “Rome already? That’s fast, even for a normal person.” 

She filled him in about Nico being kidnapped and the dream she’d had about the tapestry. She’d really wanted to tell him about the box of pieces Kronos was collecting again, but she’d have to save that story for Luke. Annabeth had a feeling that Percy would not approve of the choices she’d made in the past couple days. 

“Yeah, we got really lucky getting across the Atlantic so fast.” She winced at the lie. “But, if we’re going to have a chance at helping Nico, I’m not asking any questions.” 

Percy’s frown grew even deeper, and he shook his head. “You not asking questions? Yeah, right, Annabeth. You can tell me what’s going on, I promise I can help.” 

Except that he couldn’t. As much as she appreciated him, he was a god now, and things were different. For both of them, Annabeth realized with a pang; even for her, things weren’t so black and white anymore. She’d sworn on the River Styx to never tell another soul about her agreement, and she wasn’t ready to face those consequences. 

But, his offer was really sweet. “I appreciate it,” she finally said, “But, I have to do this on my own.” 

His smile was wry, but Annabeth knew that Percy had unwavering faith in her. Maybe he shouldn’t, a tiny voice in her head whispered, you’re tangling with powers you probably can’t handle. 

It was her fatal flaw, she knew. A part of her still believed that she had everything under control, even after everything that happened. She knew that the hardest choices were yet to come, choices that would determine the fate of Olympus. 

“You don’t understand,” Percy said, “People are expecting you to die on this quest.” 

“What else is new?” Annabeth rolled her eyes, but Percy still looked unsettled. 

Percy hesitated. “I saw something weird today. I think Gaea is plotting—” 

He suddenly went out of focus, and she could feel herself being pulled elsewhere. Annabeth stubbornly resisted the pull, but her wrist seared with pain and her blood ran cold. There was no ignoring this call, unfortunately. 

“I’m sorry.” She let the words swirl around them as she was swept away, Percy’s faint calls echoing in her mind. As he finally faded away from sight, she was standing in front of Kronos. 

He didn’t look like the malformed being she’d seen in the bunker, but more like the immortal she’d heard of from the stories. Even when he’d taken over Luke’s body, he hadn’t fully ascended to his true form. 

His eyes were a deep gold, and his aura shimmered with a bright energy that seemed to dim everything around it. Annabeth felt her own energy slow, suddenly aware of her every breath, or the slight movement of her elbow. 

“Knock it off,” her teeth were gritted, and her mouth was pressed into a hard line. 

“It’s too easy,” Kronos was smiling, but she sensed him loosening his control. 

She could still feel Percy’s hand clasped in hers, from when he’d tried to keep her from fading away. It was a phantom feeling, but she clung onto it for warmth and normalcy. All of her scariest moments in life, it had been him at her side. 

“What do you want now?” Annabeth was severely annoyed with Kronos, for more reasons than one. 

“I see you were having a good dream,” Kronos noted, and Annabeth rolled her eyes. 

“He doesn’t know, okay? You can relax.” 

Kronos rolled his eyes. “That isn’t what I’m worried about, huntress. I have a further use for you.” 

Annabeth gulped, looking away. “I’m already delivering the package for you. There’s no need for me to do anything else.” 

Kronos’s eyes filled with fire. “Indeed, Annabeth. But, it is the only way to save the son of Hades. A win-win situation, if you could call it that.” 

Annabeth very much doubted that it was, but she raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.” 

“Your mother’s cap of invisibility and my protections will allow you to sneak upon the twin giants. They are guarding many treasures, which you must sacrifice to a god of your choosing.” 

“My mother’s cap of invisibility doesn’t work anymore,” Annabeth said spitefully, “And I don’t see what’s in all of this for you.” 

“I’ll take care of that,” Kronos said, before closing his eyes, and murmuring an incantation. Her cap glowed golden, and her heart hammered disdainfully. Athena shouldn’t have taken away its magic, and Kronos powering it felt wrong, somehow. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“No,” Kronos admitted, “The twins have a treasure that belongs to me.” 

Annabeth crossed her arms. “I’m not doing it until you tell me what. There are other ways to get sacrifices.”

“Not one as big enough.” Kronos said, and Annabeth shrugged in response. 

They stared at one another for a few moments, until Kronos eventually relented. “They guard the scythe which I used to kill my father. It can be used to end my mother as well.” 

She knew of the myth of course, and had gagged when she’d heard what a son had done to his father. But, Kronos used the words nonchalantly, as though he might be describing what he’d had for breakfast. 

Annabeth stared at him, agape. “That can’t be it. A scythe can’t be the only thing between war and peace.” 

Kronos laughed, a bitter sound. “No, it is not that easy. I am too weak to face my mother, but if you help me rise, I can defeat her.” 

Oh, she thought. Of course there was a catch. What would happen after Gaea was defeated and it was only Zeus and Kronos left on the stage? Her treacheries would be revealed and she’d be smited from the earth. 

But, she could play the long game too. Let Kronos think she would help him get the scythe. She had bigger plans. 

“Sure,” she said, smiling, “We have a deal.” 

Her head spun as Kronos waved her away, and she came spiraling out of the dream. It was only twilight when she awoke, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. The steady rocking of the Argo II and snores of the rest offered her little solace. She packed her bag in a couple moments, leaving a hasty note about heading into town on the refrigerator. 

With luck, she’d be back before lunch. 

Kronos was right, unfortunately. They did need a god to help them defeat the twins and save Nico. She’d have to be careful and make sure that she didn’t let another evil crop up too. Percy’s words troubled her too; she’d known her quest was hopeless, but she hadn’t expected Gaea to take a personal interest. 

After the eidolons had hinted about her protections, Annabeth wondered if Gaea knew more than she’d let on. 

She cast a last look at her bow and arrow, hung over the hook over the door. 

A spirit of a true huntress. Artemis had once said that about her, after she’d held up the sky, but she wondered if she deserved that title anymore. Her excitement about being named Thalia’s second seemed so far away, and she felt like a different person. 

Her betrayal was imminent; she could feel it in her bones. No matter how much Thalia insisted, Annabeth knew there was no avoiding a prophecy. 

So she stepped out without her parka and arrows and watched her silver charm glinting in the starlight, a bitter reminder of the shadow that hung over the future.

Chapter Text

Confused, Percy followed Gwen into the weapons storage room as she tossed items into a burlap sack. “I don’t think I’ll need all of those.”  

“It doesn’t hurt to be careful,” she said, barely missing a beat before adding, “I thought you’d be competing for praetor.”

“No way,” Percy shrugged, “It’s not my thing.” 

“Afraid Luke would beat you again?” He laughed, shaking his head. She went on, “I don’t think you’d be a bad praetor.” 

“Thanks.” Her warmth was infectious, and Percy couldn’t help smiling. “Are you riding with Octavian too?” 

Gwen’s nose wrinkled. “Unfortunately. At least we’re together, right?” 

“Thank the gods,” Percy hesitated a second, “That was really brave of you, standing up to Octavian like that.” 

Gwen flushed, and she continued stuffing more weapons into the bag. “What you said, about not just following Octavian around, it kind of stuck with me.”

“That’s me, your typical life coach.” Percy looked away, fighting a smile. Maybe he was actually doing okay at handing out godly advice.  

“So,” Gwen said, quietly, “Are you okay with Luke being praetor?”

Percy frowned, unsure of what to say. He was meant to offer full support to Luke, but he had a feeling that Gwen would see through his false enthusiasm. 

“Sure.” Percy let out a breath. “He’s definitely capable, but also I’m not sure if he’s the most deserving.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Okay. You want my advice?”

Percy grinned. “It doesn't seem like I have a choice.”

“No,” Gwen rolled her eyes, before adopting a more somber tone, “Octavian is good at sniffing out rifts. He can sense your jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.” Percy was just concerned, as someone who’d been around for Luke’s schemes the first time. Sure, maybe Luke had turned over a new leaf, but he couldn’t let him off the hook that easy. 

Gwen gave him a significant look, and he turned away. He’d always been told he had an open face, but Gwen made it seem like she could see right through him. 

He was jealous, but not of Luke. He thought that maybe he was just a little… dissatisfied with his godly life. Not interfering was turning out to be the most tiring thing. 

Gwen sighed, shaking her head. “I think we’re all finished here. Do you want to head over to see the final fight?”

“No thanks,” Percy’s eyes fell on a creased envelope, the yellow flap peeking out under a mound of notebooks. Octavian’s seal was imprinted on the edge; Gwen must have accidentally taken it out. “I already know how it ends.”

Gwen followed his gaze and snorted. “What are you doing?” 

Trying to dig up dirt. “Nothing.” Percy forced a smile, swinging his sack over his shoulder. He focused on the envelope, trying to will it out of the shed. He squeezed Gwen’s shoulder, steering them out of the shed, and not letting out his breath until he heard a pop. 

Gwen frowned, trying to look inside the shed. “Did you hear that?” 

“Probably a rat or something,” Percy muttered, “We should go load our stuff.” 

“I see,” Gwen raised an eyebrow, “Curiouser and curiouser.” 

“Yep.” Percy laughed, the sound of cheers suddenly erupting from the stadium. He only hoped that it was Luke they were excited for. He wondered how Octavian would take the appointment of the temporary wartime praetor. 

Still, he felt uneasy. What if Luke decided that helping Octavian would better further his agenda? What if Percy was getting tricked again?

Breathe. He closed his eyes, an image of Annabeth suddenly flooding his mind, blond ringlets falling down her back. Ever since he’d become a god, he’d felt less grounded, more unsure of himself. Annabeth had been his mortal tether to the world, and he’d severed a deeper connection when he’d chosen divinity. 

Still, he’d never bet against Annabeth. There was a plan, mixed within layers and layers of schemes. He might not have it figured out, but he trusted her. And if she trusted Luke, well, then he would too.  

“We should toss these in the wagon.” He steeled himself, his resolve sure. From now on, he wouldn’t doubt Luke anymore, especially with Octavian hungry for blood. “We’d better get ready to greet the new praetor.” 

Luke, as it happened, was all smiles when Percy walked up with Gwen. He was draped in a shabby purple sash, but he had the aura of a praetor. Octavian was huddled off in a corner amid his own supporters, a deep frown etched on his face. 

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Gwen gave him a mock salute, and walked off toward Octavian. Percy knitted his brows; as nice as Gwen seemed, her loyalties were still apparently with Octavian. 

Luke watched her leave, and shook his head. “I don’t understand that girl.”

Percy shrugged in response, before breaking out into a smile. He had taken Gwen’s words to heart, and was determined to turn over a new leaf. No more snide comments or pointed looks; him and Luke were going to be a team. 

“Forget her. Look at you, man. Who would have thought?” 

Luke waggled his eyebrows. “I guess I’m doing okay. You find anything on our favorite guy?”

He waved at Octavian, who only gave them a phony smile. Politics were quite a messy business. Percy looked away and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Maybe, but I thought we could look at it together.” 

Luke gave him a discreet nod as the rest of the senior centurions rounded the campers up. Percy wasn’t able to shake Luke’s loyal following all the way to the wagons, and bit back a frustrated growl. 

When they were finally alone, he conjured the envelope before them, staring at its perfectly creased edges. Luke nodded, and Percy broke the seal, holding in his breath. It was a mixture of documents he didn’t understand: basic praetor expenses and lists of cohort duties. 

“Hold on,” Luke pointed at a sheath of papers bundled together, “He’s got little notes all over these things.” 

Percy squinted, suddenly filled with excitement. “This is where he writes down his prophecies. I knew he was a fraud.” 

Sure enough, Octavian had written down observations within the papers, accompanied by cruel barbs. Marcus will be a good addition to the first cohort: make sure his prophecy is encouraging. 

Luke rolled his eyes. Annabeth isn’t right for this camp. Still, Reyna approves of her, so I must tread carefully. For now. 

Percy bristled with indignation, muttering a curse under his breath, and Luke raised an eyebrow. “What?” Percy shrugged, “He’s obviously taking advantage of these stupid kids.” 

“And he screwed with Annabeth.” Luke said knowingly. 

“Yeah. That sucks too,” he adopted a neutral expression, “You think anyone would notice if I blew Octavian’s face off?” 

Luke’s face darkened. “Don’t. There’s too much at stake.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out the best way to expose Octavian’s lies to the world. They needed to be careful; if they overplayed their hand, Octavian could discredit them. 

Percy cast a hopeless look into the crowd. Popularity could fade in an instant; what they needed was loyalty. Annabeth might have been able to figure something out, but they were on their own. 

“It’ll come, soon,” Luke sighed, “We need to get this stuff back before Octavian notices it’s missing.” 

Percy grinned, snapping his fingers. The papers rearranged themselves and the envelope resealed itself, disappearing with a pop. 

“I hate when you do that.” 

“You’re just jealous.” 

“Am not! I–”

“Peter—” Octavian’s shrill voice pierced the air, cutting Luke off, and Percy let out an inward groan. He rolled his eyes, leaving Luke alone and joining Octavian’s party. Gwen gave him a little smile when he walked up, and he grinned back. Maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be total torture. 

Octavian tugged him aside, and fixed him with a glare. “Peter, you are a complete and total idiot.” 

“Am I?” Percy adopted a clueless expression, his eyes wide. 

“You could have had the praetorship. We could have been kings!” 

“Gods, you should have been more obvious. You know I don’t do subtle,” Percy made a big show of shaking his head, “Besides, Luke is clearly the more popular candidate.” 

“No matter.” Octavian said, “We could have fixed the odds.” 

“As much as I endorse cheating,” Percy rolled his eyes, “No one would buy it. Everyone already thinks Luke can beat me.” 

Gwen’s head shot up, and Octavian faltered, staring. “ Thinks ,” he grabbed Percy’s arm, roughly, “What exactly does that mean? That everyone thinks that Luke can beat you?” 

In the candlelight, Octavian’s skin looked waxen and taut, stretched across his skin like a corpse. His eyes bore into Percy with a thousand questions, and he took a step back, suddenly uneasy. 

“Nothing.” Percy swallowed, forcing a smile. “Look at him. I just meant it wouldn’t look realistic.” 

Octavian’s eyes were still narrowed, but he turned away. Percy let out an internal sigh of relief, but Gwen caught his arm. 

“Tread lightly,” she said, “Octavian doesn’t do trickery.” 

Annabeth wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead; dawn had broken with relentless heat. She’d finally arrived at the Via del Corso, a knot in her stomach. Broken rag dolls littered the floor of the store, and a haggard woman sat at a table, apparently the only soul in the building. 

If years of quests had taught her anything, she’d need to be careful. She curled her fingers around the hilt of her dagger, taking care not to disturb a single thing in the shop. The woman looked up, her hair gray and her smile missing several teeth. 

She clucked her tongue, muttering a couple words under her breath. 

“I don’t speak Italian,” Annabeth said, frowning, “Sorry.” 

Something flickered in her eyes as she started to brush the ragdoll’s hair. “My mistake, angel,” she said, “I was asking if I could help you.” 

“Just looking around.” Annabeth tried her best to keep her tone light. Maybe this woman wasn’t a monster; maybe she was looking for problems where there weren’t any. 

She walked to the fifth aisle, and sure enough, a neat little box lay nestled between two beheaded rag dolls. A wonderful omen, no doubt. 

Why did Kronos have to be so creepy? She wondered if he’d sent Luke on weird errands like this one, and then shook the thought out of her head. Luke and her were different people, and ultimately she was doing this for the good of the gods. 

The woman from the front was still watching her, eagle-eyed, and Annabeth resisted the urge to shudder. “You like that?” She pointed a long, bony finger at the box. 

Annabeth crossed her arms, cursing under her breath. She hadn’t expected to actually pay for the box, and she only had drachmas on her. 

“How much?” Percy would have forced the woman to chase him, but she didn’t need to start an international manhunt. Besides, this quest was something that she needed to keep quiet, even from her friends. 

“The end of the world.” Annabeth let out a little gasp, backing away. The woman had stood up now, eyes flickering with rage. “I can’t let you take that.” 

“You don’t understand,” Annabeth said, leaping away just before she was clawed, “I have to do this.” 

“Yes, yes,” the woman snarled, “Loyal to your master until the very end. What has he promised you? Riches? Glory?” 

Annabeth faltered. Somewhere along the lines, she’d become the bad guy. She wanted to shake her head, tell the woman the truth. Somehow, she didn’t think it would come across the right way. 

“I can give you riches,” Annabeth gasped, thinking of the twin giants’ treasure piles, “Surely a little gold might fix the shop up a little bit.” 

“Silly girl,” the woman hissed, “I will have your head instead.” 

She lunged, narrowly missing Annabeth by inches. She swiped her dagger in retaliation, raising her eyebrows when a trickle of blood ran down her arm. Annabeth had been expecting her to vanish into monster dust, or at least bleed golden. 

Her first instinct was to label the woman a demigod, but she carried no weapons. How could this woman be mortal, then? She hadn’t even seemed fully awake when Annabeth had first gone into the store. 

The woman was quick; if she’d been a normal demigod, she might have met her match. There were hidden perks to being a huntress, besides the eternal youth and glowing skin. The woman grew tired eventually, slowing enough that Annabeth could place the point of the dagger at her neck. Annabeth pinned the woman against the wall, taking in a deep breath. She spat and writhed, and it took all of her strength not to let her slither away. 

 “I’m sorry.” Annabeth said honestly, sighing. The woman’s face was stony, unrelenting. 

“They all are.” Her eyes flickered with manic energy. “I can tell you one thing. The Fates have written your death.” 

Annabeth froze, shaking her head. “Swear it on the Styx.” 

“I swear,” the woman’s smile sent a shiver down Annabeth’s spine. She glanced toward the broken rag dolls. “Death may not always be swift, but my souls return to me.” 

Annabeth glanced around the shop in horror. “All these dolls—” 

The woman nodded, gleeful. “Strike me now, escape, weep. It doesn’t matter to me. We will see each other soon enough.” 

Annabeth felt her tongue sour. So this was why Kronos had sent her here; he’d been tying up loose ends. She’d prided herself on being one step ahead of him, and had signed her own death warrant. The box lay on the counter, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. 

“There’s always another way.” Her words sounded bleak, even as she tried to muster up courage. 

“Poor child,” the woman said softly, “I did warn you.” 

Thoroughly disillusioned, Annabeth dropped off the white box at the Tiber. It was only a short walk from the store, and she was so dazed the time seemed to pass in seconds. 

She could see the Argo II not too farawy, but her feet seemed to be stuck in concrete. Annabeth felt like she could have wandered the sunny markets forever. 

“Hey.” Annabeth jumped, glancing up to see Piper staring at her. There was a crinkle between her brows, and her arms were crossed. “Where have you been?” 

“Around,” Annabeth said casually. She wondered if everyone could see that she was marked to die. She attempted an expression that vaguely resembled a smile. “Italy is scenic.” 

Piper didn’t seem to buy it. “Okay, I’ve been looking for you for hours,” she said, “You know, we were having a meeting.” 

The implication wasn’t lost on Annabeth. You weren’t there. 

Annabeth brushed past it. “Did I miss anything?” 

Piper’s jaw fell open, and, luckily, Hazel walked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lips were pressed into a hard line. “Yeah. Jason decided how we were going to save my brother.” 

“You can’t just leave like that,” Piper finally said, shaking her head, “We’re all a team.” 

Annabeth resisted the urge to squirm. “I know,” she said quietly, “I’ve been a little nervous about…” 

She trailed off, a million things coming to mind. Being marked for death? An evil titan? Betraying Artemis? Her crazy mother? 

Another voice in the back of her mind whispered a forbidden, traitorous thought. Percy? 

But, Piper and Hazel were looking at her expectantly, and she settled on the easiest one. “The Mark of Athena,” she sighed, “I’ve never had a solo quest before.” 

Piper’s glare softened, and Hazel squeezed her hand. She hadn’t realized how heavy all of her secrets had been weighing on her. 

Annabeth nodded, letting them talk her through her nervousness. Maybe they didn’t know everything she was nervous about, but she did feel a lot better just unloading about Athena’s expectations. 

“No one’s ever made it back alive,” she said, her voice hollow. 

Hazel raised an eyebrow, her lips curving upward. “Death isn’t always permanent, Annabeth.” 

“Mostly it is.” Immortality had been a given for so long. She couldn’t believe it was all being wrenched away from her. 

“You know what Percy told me once?” Piper nudged her shoulder. “That you were the strongest demigod alive.” 

Annabeth wanted to roll her eyes. Of course Percy would—

Well, maybe he wouldn’t. It wasn’t like they were dating anymore. It wasn’t like he owed her anything. “He said that?” Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened. 

“Yeah,” Piper said, “And I believe him. I mean, I had all these expectations for the great Annabeth Chase I’d heard all about.” 

“Huh.” A small smile flickered across Annabeth’s features. 

“I saw you, and you looked so powerful,” Piper said earnestly, “And I was like, wow. But, you ended up being this great person too. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Annabeth said, looking away. She felt a lot lighter already, like she’d already retrieved the Athena Parthenos. 

She almost got up, ready to help them rescue Nico. He was a little odd, sure, but Annabeth had always  thought of him as another annoying brother. 

Except, this wasn’t her quest. She had another, long difficult task ahead of her, and she’d put it off long enough.  

“I can’t delay mom’s wishes any longer.” Annabeth closed her eyes, apologetic. “Find Nico for me, and tell him he is not allowed to get kidnapped again.” 

“Will do. Come back safe,” Piper said, letting a little charmspeak flow into her words, “Kick some serious ass, Annabeth.” 

Hazel cracked a smile, before adopting a somber expression. “What Piper said. I know you’ll give those monsters a run for their money.” 

Annabeth watched them fade, slowly becoming specks of dust on the horizon. She checked her quest bag, still mostly full of ambrosia and bandages. The white box had since disappeared, courtesy of titan magic, and now all she had to do was wait. 

She squinted, the faint outline of a motorcycle becoming clearer. Was that Audrey Hepburn? And Gregory Peck?

Oh gods. Annabeth flushed, trying to quickly flatten her hair. She faltered, her blood running cold. Since when had she started caring about impressing some Gregory Peck look alike? If Artemis had been here, she would have been smited in an instant. 

But, the past couple days, she hadn’t been a very good huntress, had she?. Every decision she made, Annabeth could feel herself slipping away from Artemis. Once upon a time, the thought of being Artemis’s right hand had been all consuming. Once upon a time, the thought of anything else would have terrified her. 

Now, she felt freer, more rebellious. Carefully, she snuck a peek at the blue jellybean that Grover had given her. She wondered if he was thinking about her, trapped amid a sea of Roman politics. Annabeth had never imagined that he’d ever be in her life again. 

Life was funny like that sometimes. Kronos had scored a point on her this round, but she was a daughter of Athena. She wouldn’t underestimate him again.

Chapter Text

It was days like these that made Annabeth regret all her decisions. She’d met Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn’s untalented lookalikes, and they’d dropped her off at the entrance to catacombs. The stones reminded her of the Labryinth, except while the Labryinth had been alive, there was an aura of death emanating from these caverns. 

Bones littered the floor, and a shudder ran up her spine. Annabeth wrinkled her nose; the odor of death too clear. “Focus.” 

She steeled herself, moving deeper and trying to ignore the disappearing tendrils of sunlight. Annabeth suddenly froze, shaking her head. 

She let her dagger reflect the little rays, and then poured water to form a faint rainbow. “O, Iris, goddess of the rainbow,” Annabeth fought to keep her voice steady, “Show me Luke.” 

The image sputtered weakly to life, and Luke materialized in front of her. He jumped slightly, glancing about with shifty eyes and bringing a finger to his lips. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Luke released his breath, his eyes crinkling with concern. “Are you in a cave?” 

Annabeth nodded. “And so my quest begins. Tell me about camp.” 

Luke held up a bright purple sash, a smug grin on his face. “You’ll never guess. Things are finally looking up here.” 

She looked away, her words catching in her throat. “That’s really great, Luke. I knew you could do it.” 

“Annabeth.” She glanced up, and Luke’s brows were knitted together. “What did he do?” 

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her throat, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Annabeth could already visualize Luke’s disappointed face, muttering under his breath about how he’d warned her. 

“Let’s just say he’s taking precautions for himself,” Annabeth finally said, tugging at a lock of her hair, “Something I should have seen coming.” 

Luke’s face was stony, impassive. “Holding it in isn’t going to make it go away.” 

“He’s promised some creepy ragdoll owner my soul,” Annabeth mumbled quickly, her words slurring into one another. “There’s more.” 

Luke’s expression softened for a moment, concern flickering over his face and then vanishing as quick as it had come. Annabeth swallowed, feeling the blood drain from her face. 

“I don’t want to lecture you—” 

“Then don’t,” she blurted, the words harsher than she’d intended. The last person she wanted to yell at her was Luke. 

“Annabeth,” Luke glared, “You’re becoming too impulsive. This deal with Kronos was a bad idea.” 

“What was I supposed to do? Lives were at stake.” Her words were shrill, weighted with pure panic. If she hadn’t taken the deal with Kronos, they never would have gotten to Rome in time to save Nico. She kicked a wall in frustration, little rocks tumbling down the sides. Annabeth was half-hoping for an avalanche to end her misery. 

“Still, there’s always another way,” Luke said stubbornly. 

“We all know there’s no avoiding prophecies.” Thalia’s face flashed in her mind, eyes wide with worry and mouth pressed into a hard line. Of course Thalia would believe in escape from destiny—she’d refused her own. 

But, for Annabeth it wouldn’t be so easy. There wasn’t another daughter of Athena waiting in the wings, just as Percy had been for Thalia. Even Luke had fallen to his prophecy eventually. 

“Kronos says that he could kill Gaea,” she added, silent as Luke closed his eyes, “There’s a scythe hidden…” She trailed off, the logistical issues suddenly apparent. The rest of the Seven would have no idea what the scythe even looked like, much less know that they needed to look for it. 

Even she was operating off of a rough idea, barely hoping that the scythe’s aura would guide her toward it. Her mother’s quest had sidetracked her, though, and now she was trudging through the dark caverns. 

A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to forget the scythe. The tiny voice that feared the repercussions of her quest and decisions. If she wanted to maintain any favor with her mother and Artemis, she’d need to quit while she was ahead. 

The more prideful part of her thought Annabeth could wield the scythe herself. An image of herself hacking Gaea into a million pieces sent a wave of her warmth through her bones, like an especially good bite of ambrosia. 

“A scythe,” Luke mused, jarring her out of her thoughts, “Interesting. I’ll ask Percy if he’s heard anything about it.” 

She tried her best to adopt a neutral expression. “How is Percy? Adjusting well to the Romans, I hope?” 

Luke gave her a funny look. “He’s fine. Octavian’s still slimy but Percy’s going to—-” 

The earth suddenly shook, rubble falling from all sides and slashing her connection. Annabeth bent low, covering her head, waiting for the explosion to be over. She grabbed her satchel tight as the rocks continued to fall, crawling under a solid-ish ledge. 

She wondered what Luke had been about to say. Percy was going to do…something, and Annabeth wouldn’t be there to see it or make sure he’d be okay. A bitter chuckle fell out of her throat; dangerous and demigods fell hand in hand. 

She couldn’t even send a message to the rest of the Seven; the falling rocks had hidden the little rays of sunlight and made it impossible to send an Iris Message. She was really on her own. 

Annabeth heard a faint booming sound in the distance that might have been laughter. Had this been Gaea’s doing then? Or had it been the work of an enemy she was not yet ready to acknowledge? 

She winced in pain, stealing a glance at her bloodied ankle. It had gotten twisted in the cave in, and it hurt like hell. Annabeth shoved a fistful of ambrosia brownies in her mouth, but they hardly dulled the ache. 

She ate another and another, until her palms started feeling tingly and her forehead beaded with sweat. Maybe she’d overloaded on the ambrosia, and needed to use a different tactic. The thought of eating another ambrosia square sounded tempting, but Annabeth couldn’t afford to burn up at the moment.  

Okay, she’d done the first aid course at camp, right? She could reset a broken ankle. No big deal. 

She tried not to look at the wonky way her toes were jutting out, and placed a firm grip around her foot. 

3…2…1

Annabeth yanked, hard, howling with pain. She muttered a million curses under her breath, staring at her foot, which was thankfully the right way. Not that the pain had completely dulled, it was all she could do to bite her own tongue and not scream. 

Her satchel had an extra camp t-shirt, which she used as a splint, and then started hobbling down the path. She was a lot slower, but Annabeth wasn’t complaining. She figured she’d take all the time she could get before she needed to get in another fight. 

Slightly crouching, she tried to stay closer to the ground in case of another rockslide, trying not to make a noise and cause another one. If the bones weren’t bad enough, she thought she could hear rats hissing in the shadows. 

The rats weren’t the worst thing—she’d seen plenty while on the run—and Annabeth was more worried about what she couldn’t see. Her skin grew itchy, as though something invisible was skittering up and down her arms.

Annabeth steeled herself, bile rising in her throat. She was not going to throw up. 

She’d lost all sense of time, but her shoulders sagged with relief when the narrow tunnel opened up into a cavern. Tapestries were haphazardly draped over the walls, depicting images of the gods and demigods from long ago. Annabeth recognized Zeus and Daedalus, their faces twisted with narrowed eyes and arrogant smiles. 

In these pictures, they almost looked like villains. 

In the center, there was a large object wrapped in layers and layers of silk. A little glint of gold caught her eye, and Annabeth gasped. She’d found it— she’d really found the Athena Parthenos. 

Very good, Annabeth. She jumped, but there was no one around her. The whispering voices snaked its way into the cavern, blanketing her in a cloud of terror. Her face paled as the hissing she’d heard earlier grew louder, and Annabeth reached for her dagger. 

“Show yourself.” She’d always prided herself on seeming calm, but her voice was splintering, weak. 

Click. 

Click. 

A large figure began moving toward her, face hidden under a veiled shroud. “You’ve made it farther than I imagined. Athena’s pride and joy.” 

The words should have been a compliment, but they were laced with venom and spite. Annabeth shuddered, slowly taking a step back to size up the situation. The cavern was dim, and the only way in had been blocked by another rockslide. 

“Don’t even try it,” the shadow murmured, “This cavern has been falling apart for centuries. It is only my thread that keeps it together. One wrong step and you will fall into Tartarus.” 

As though sensing her words, the ground beneath Annabeth rumbled. She closed her eyes, trying to formulate a plan. With a broken ankle and the fractured floor, she doubted she’d be able to last in a fight. 

“I know who you are. The weaver who thought she could best Athena.” Annabeth’s chest felt tight, finally voicing the words she’d been too afraid to say. “You’re Arachne.” 

Camp Jupiter had created a makeshift mess hall; there weren’t any tables, but demigods were strewn across picnic blankets, clad in battle armor and casting curious glances. Percy sighed, looking at Luke. 

“I think they want our food.” 

“Really?” Luke pretended to take a swig of his juice, “They’re probably in awe of their new praetor.” 

Percy rolled his eyes, taking a big bite of his sandwich. “Yeah, whatever. How’d your call with Annabeth go?” 

Luke’s face darkened. “Not great. It cut out right in the middle. I guess she’s underground, looking for the statue.”

“So she could be dead?” Percy asked, frowning. The Athena Parthenos would be good in preventing war between the Greeks and Romans. He didn’t like that Annabeth was completely by herself in Rome, though. “We should go see her..” 

Luke shook his head. “No way, we have to secure the camp first. It’s what Annabeth would have wanted.” 

Percy bit his tongue, resisting the urge to come out with a snappy retort. What did it matter what Annabeth wanted if she was dead? Besides, it wasn’t fair how Luke continued to call the shots in everything they did. 

Lost in his thoughts, he hardly noticed Luke glaring at him. “Huh?” 

Luke paused, frustrated. “I was saying that Annabeth told me she had an idea to kill Gaea. Remember the scythe Kronos used to kill his father? I think it should be good to kill Gaea too.” 

Percy shifted uncomfortably. Somehow the topic of Kronos kept coming up, and it sent fear crawling up his spine. He trusted Luke, but he didn’t like being kept out of the loop. 

“Great,” he said, “Another thing to find. What does it even look like?” 

Luke’s face fell. “You don’t know? I thought you would have heard of it.” 

Percy groaned. “There isn’t a History of the Gods class on Olympus, dude. Also, I’m not Annabeth.”    

Luke shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed. “You might be right. They are staring at us.” 

Percy glanced warily at the crowd around them, his hand instinctively reaching toward his back pocket. Riptide was as trusty as ever, even if he had neglected his swordfare the past couple decades. 

Luke swatted at his arm. “Knock it off. They’re not going to fight us.” 

Percy didn’t answer, quickly straightening up when he saw Gwen walking through the field. Her coppery hair was tied back in a braid, her eyes narrowed. “Gotta go.” 

Luke sputtered in disbelief as Percy got up and followed Gwen out of the clearing. She’d headed toward the river, a bucket in hand, paying him no attention. 

He tried clearing his throat, but Gwen didn’t seem to hear him. He even yelled out her name a couple times, but she didn’t even spare him a glance. 

When he’d finally decided she had to be ignoring him, she whirled around, her arms crossed and her smile tight. “Peter. Hi.” 

“What’s going on?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but Gwen shot him a nervous glance. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed her arms, looking away, “I don’t know.” 

Percy wanted to press, but Gwen looked near tears already. “Listen, Gwen. If Octavian’s done something—” 

“You’ll what?” Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes. “Destroy him? Destroy anyone and anything you want?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Percy said, squinting. Gwen looked terrified of him, and he stepped forward, sending her scrambling back. 

“Don’t,” she warned, “You’ll regret it, that I can promise you.” With that, she ran back to camp, leaving Percy dumbfounded. He’d always considered Gwen a true ally, despite her loyalty to Octavian, but this didn’t make any sense. 

“Peter,” Percy jumped, seeing Luke appear in the woods. He lowered his voice, “I think we should head back.” 

But Percy was adamant. “That’s your answer for everything.” 

Luke caught his arm. “Are we still talking about Gwen?” 

Percy shrugged. “I am going to see Annabeth, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“It’s a bad idea,” Luke sighed, “She wanted you here.” 

“I don’t care,” Percy snapped, “And you shouldn’t either. You should be coming with me, Luke.” 

Luke stared at him for a long moment, his eyes flickering with indecision and worry. 

“I can’t.” he winced, “But if you are going, there’s something I haven’t told you. About the scythe.” 

They heard a blood-curdling scream rip through camp, and the top of one of the huts erupted in flames. “Luke,” Percy said urgently, “Get on with it.” 

“It’s hidden with the twin giants’ treasures,” Luke said, “You can’t miss it.” 

“How do you know—” 

“It’s a long story.” Luke buried his head into his hands. “Gods, how do they have pitchforks?” 

He ran through camp, whispers snaking through the crowds. Traitors. Saturn’s pride. Graecus God. 

Percy’s blood chilled. Surely, he was hearing everything wrong. There was no way that they knew the truth. He risked a glance at Octavian, who was staring right at him, eyes stony. Gwen’s warning rang in his mind; Octavian must have listened to their conversations once he’d suspected Percy of treachery. 

As if reading his mind, Octavian leaned forward. “Percy, I think, is what we should call you. Isn’t that right?” 

Percy only glared, hoping his godly aura would rattle Octavian into surrendering. 

To his credit, Octavian didn’t blink. “Go ahead. Kill me.” 

That’s just what he wants. Percy frowned. “You’re a liar. You don’t deserve the praetorship or the foot massages you force Dakota to give you.” 

Octavian’s grin was smarmy. “Maybe. But that won’t stop the legion from destroying Luke, hm?” 

 Okay, things were not looking good. The legion was quickly turning on them, and Annabeth was lost deep underground. Percy had wanted to go to her immediately, but he felt stuck. If he didn’t help the legion, the Romans would attack Camp Half-Blood and start a civil war. 

If he didn’t help Annabeth…he had a feeling there were going to be consequences. And as far as he knew, she had no way to contact the Seven either. Percy closed his eyes, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. And how had Luke known where to find the scythe? 

He suddenly straightened up, closing his eyes. There was one other thing he hadn’t tried. 

“Gwen,” he called again, finding her balled up near a tree trunk, “Gwen!” 

She glanced up, sullen. “What.” 

And he told her everything. 

“You’re a god,” Gwen’s voice faltered, her mouth slightly agape, “I’m so stupid.” 

“In your defense, I don’t do a very good job of showing it,” Percy cracked a smile, “But you can trust me, I promise.” 

"And Luke?" She hesitated. "Was he really Saturn's..." 

Percy looked away. "Luke's definitely no Boy Scout, but he's changed. Believe me, I was the one who took him down, I'd know." 

Gwen stared at him. “You fought Kronos himself? What are you waiting for? You can march up to Octavian and—” 

“Blow his head off?” Percy shook his head. “I can’t. The Romans might fear me, but I needed us to be buddies. Which is probably a bust now.” 

“They’ll listen,” she pleaded, “Octavian will destroy the legion with him.” 

“If I could do anything…” Percy trailed off, musing. When he’d first decided to become a god, he’d thought that was the only way he’d be able to make any real change. The demigods that had allied with Kronos had deep hatred seeded in their hearts, but they hadn’t gotten there on their own. 

How much would a stern talking to affect the gods? Maybe they’d change their ways for a few years, but they’d end up falling back into the same pattern as before. It was why he’d thought that he could break the cycle, speak to them as their equal. 

It had worked, for a while. The gods had claimed all of their kids the first couple years, and Percy had personally overseen the construction of cabins for the minor gods. 

“One for you?” Chiron had asked, a slight smile playing on his lips. 

Percy had flushed, the thought too strange to think about. As a god, any love he found would be fleeting. Even years would seem like a moment to him. 

And it didn’t feel right, anyway. Percy didn’t want to bring children into the world that he couldn’t fully raise. No matter how much he’d want to, he’d have to stay distant. 

The years had passed eventually, familiar faces fading away. People stopped waving at him and high-fiving him, preferring to acknowledge him from afar. The campers knew of him, but their faces were unscarred and their eyes were hopeful and they just didn’t get it. 

So it became easier to stay away, easier to pretend like he wasn’t feeling so alone. He didn’t understand how Chiron managed it, watching his students rise and fall, their existence little blips on the timeline. 

But, he’d become the very thing he’d despised. An absent, aloof god who couldn’t be bothered with anything except themselves. He’d chosen divinity to fix things, and it was not all it was cracked up to be. 

“People wait their whole lives for the gods to fix things,” Percy said slowly, “When it turns out that you didn’t need them at all.” 

“So you’re turning your back on the legion?” Gwen asked. “We need you. A civil war would be devastating.” 

Annabeth needs me. It was his fatal flaw, all wrapped up with a bow. The world or the girl he’d loved most of his life? When he really had to think about it, it had never really been a choice. 

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head low. “You’ll have to save the legion for me.” 

Gwen stayed silent, her mouth forming a hard line. She wasn’t convinced yet, he knew. Percy heard Luke’s guttural roar and prayed that he’d be able to last against Octavian, at least until Gwen came to help. If Gwen came to help. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, letting the light transport him to Rome.

Chapter Text

Percy gasped, ducking just in time to avoid a bloody piece of shrapnel hurled toward him. He hadn’t known exactly where Annabeth was, so he’d focused on Grover’s empathy link to guide him to Rome. 

As far as he could tell, they were in some ancient Roman building. Demigods were scattered across the arena, spears pointed and eyes wild with determination. Leo had lit the ends of a pipe on fire, almost like a flamethrower. He saw Piper lunge over a fallen pillar, her dagger cutting into the giants’ leathery skin. 

“Nice side step, McLean,” he called, grinning as her eyes widened in disbelief, “You’ve been practicing.” 

“Something like that,” Piper muttered, shaking her head, “About time you showed up.” 

He guessed the large dragon flying around was Frank, and scanned around for the rest, lost amid the fray. 

“Hey, you made it!,” Grover ran up to him, panting, “We really need you. They’re reforming faster than we can handle it.” 

Percy glanced up guiltily. “G-Man? You wouldn’t know where…where Annabeth would be?” 

Grover sighed, his brows furrowed. “Nah, she left a while ago. She’ll be okay, you know that.” 

As much as he wanted to tear through Rome looking for her, Percy wasn’t stupid. “There was something I needed to find,” he racked his mind, closing his eyes, “The weapon Kronos used to kill his father.” 

“His scythe?” Grover guessed, frowning. “You’re sure it's here?” 

“Positive,” Percy said, slightly uneasy. He didn’t think Grover would approve of where (or who) he’d gotten the information from. 

A scream splintered in the air, and Percy shot up, suddenly alert. Hazel was beside Nico, desperately shaking him, her hands stained crimson from holding his bloody jacket. The giants were circling the two of them like hawks, their yellowed teeth bared. 

“Okay,” Percy gritted his teeth, “What’s their deal?” 

Grover winced as they crouched behind the pillars. “The more serious looking one is Ephialtes, and the other one is Otis. Their life goal is to usurp Mr. D as the god of parties.” 

“I’d think Mr. D would let them have the job,” Percy said. “Give himself a couple centuries of retirement.”

Grover snorted. “Maybe not. Otis was just testing out his ballet recital, in his tiny tutu.” 

Percy made a face. “Gross. I think I got the picture.” 

“I’ll go look for the scythe,” Grover promised, disappearing into the battle, “Don’t worry about it.” 

With that settled, Percy sized up the giants. They had long purple hair, braided with gold and silver coins. Percy could easily imagine them prancing around on releve, facing twisted with concentration. He thought Grover had given him a pretty accurate assessment, all things considered. 

“Hey, you idiots,” Percy yelled, “Why don’t you try picking on someone your own size?” 

The twins glanced at one another, rolling their eyes. Percy closed his eyes, trying to find water somewhere, anywhere. He sensed droplets deep beneath the surface of the ground, calling to it as the earth began to tremble. 

“Foolish demigod,” Ephialtes sneered, “The Mother herself has decided to end you.” 

Percy bit back a smile; it seemed as though not looking all powerful and godly did have a couple advantages. 

“That’s what you think,” he said, as a burst of water erupted from the ground. Then another, and then another. 

Otis’s smile faded. “I don’t think he’s a demigod. He’s the one Mother warned us about. Him and the Huntress, remember?” 

“Right,” Ephialtes paused, “Except she took care of the girl already. Lucky for us he’s fallen right into our laps.” 

Percy’s face burned. “Taken care of?” 

Otis seemed to regain some of his old confidence. “Yeah, burned to a crisp or something. Serves her right, being in cahoots with—” 

“Shut up, Otis,” Ephialtes said darkly, “You’re getting off topic.” 

But the thought of Annabeth being dead was too much to bear, and Percy felt something rip inside him. 

He let the water snake around the giants, watching as their faces darkened to a splotchy purple as they sputtered for air. A little voice in the back of his mind urged him to squeeze harder, until they could breathe no longer. 

And then the light faded from their eyes, and they fell to the floor like ragdolls. Percy faltered, blood pounding hard in his ears. Jason and Leo were pulling their spears and pipes out, having just made the killing blows. 

Jason and Leo. Not him. 

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Percy had never enjoyed killing, not like that. Was this how gods felt all the time, murder turning into some sort of a game? Or was it something worse, something deeper?

He’d wanted to blow off Octavian’s head, but that hadn’t been real, had it? 

Percy shook his head; he didn’t want to dwell on the fact that he was turning into a psycho. Thankfully, Grover and Frank popped up, dragging a long, golden scythe with them. Well, mostly Frank. Grover was more there for moral support. 

“Is it this one?” Frank heaved, pausing to catch his breath, “The other ones seemed too small.” 

Percy squinted; he’d almost been expecting some kind of weird energy out of the scythe, but it didn’t seem any different from the other weapons he’d seen. The shade of gold, though, was exactly the same as he’d remembered all those years ago. 

“I think so,” he said, slowly.  

He glanced toward Hazel, who’d remained beside Nico the entire time, as though lost. Even the death of the twins hadn’t fazed her, and she stared at Nico, her gaze vacant. 

“Hazel,” Frank knelt beside her, his voice gentle, “It’s over now.” 

She shook slightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s not waking up. He’s supposed to wake up out of the trance.” 

Nico di Angelo stared up at them, with glassy eyes and white skin. His chest lay still, his hands folded to his chest as though to ward from evil. Percy lay one hand on his forehead, freezing to the touch. 

“No, no,” Hazel whirled toward Percy, her face contorted with pain, “Do something! Make him better again.” 

“I’m so sorry. I wish I had that power,” Percy said lamely, turning away. He still remembered the little kid who’d loved Mythomagic, hidden away and replaced by the jaded Ghost King. He’d never known exactly what to think of Nico di Angelo, but he’d been a good guy. 

He’d had the idea to go to the Styx, a gamble that could have totally backfired. In the end, it had been the reason Percy had lasted against Kronos. He had a feeling they’d need Nico di Angelo again. 

Hazel had buried her face in Frank’s shoulder, inconsolable. Percy suddenly straightened, glancing at Piper. 

“You asked Jason to come back, right? After you guys saved Hera?” 

Piper hesitated. “Uh, I guess. Percy, I don’t know…” 

“No,” Frank said slowly, “One of our centurions came back to life after we fought the giants in June. Thanatos may be free, but the Doors are still open.” 

“Right, Gwen,” Percy remembered, quickly trying to push thoughts of Camp Jupiter out of his mind. The last thing he needed was to be fixated on Octavian’s schemes; he was here, with the Seven. 

Hazel’s voice was quiet. “Thanatos turned a blind eye toward me. Piper, please.” 

It would have been impossible to refuse her, so Piper sat beside Nico, letting her honeyed words wrap around him. “Come back,” she whispered, “It isn’t your time.” 

They waited for a long moment, and Percy thought he was going to explode. Then, Nico’s eyes glowed, bright white, and he turned over to his side in a coughing fit. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he was thin, but he was alive. 

“Nico,” Hazel wrapped him up in the tightest hug, and he gasped for breath. Percy figured she wasn’t going to let him go, either way. 

“I’m okay,” he swallowed, stealing a quick glance at Percy, “Thanks to you guys.” 

“How did you even end up here?” Reyna asked, skeptical as always. 

“Stupidity,” Nico said bitterly, “I thought I could find the Doors of Death. So that maybe my sister wouldn’t have to do it on her own.” 

“That was foolish,” Reyna said, before adding, “But also admirable. Family is more important than anything, and I respect you for that.” 

Nico offered her a slow smile. “I appreciate that.” 

As they helped a stumbling Nico to his feet, Percy took in the destroyed arena around them. He hoped the mist would have a good excuse, because he didn’t think a gas leak would cut it this time. 

He grabbed the scythe with one hand, shrinking it down to a manageable size. 

“Now what?” Leo asked, glancing around. 

“Now we look for the Doors,” Jason said firmly, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder, “We have a guide to take us there.” 

Percy looked to Grover, understanding passing between them. “Cool,” Percy nodded, taking in a deep breath,“I’m in.” 

It was hard to focus with a broken ankle and a killer headache, Annabeth thought, wincing. Unfortunately, she’d die if she didn’t. 

“I did best her,” Arachne finally came into full view, her spider body on display in all its glory. “I did beat her, and she turned me into this because she could not handle it.” 

Annabeth glanced at the tapestries, pressing her lips into a hard line. The colors were bright and the embroidery glowed, the pictures almost shimmering to life. Arachne wasn’t wrong; her work was good enough to rival the gods. 

Her story had been a warning against hubris, something Annabeth always struggled with. Now, Annabeth couldn’t help wondering what the real moral of the story had been. There is  always someone better than you, so don’t put yourself on a pedestal? Let your accomplishments speak for themselves instead of bragging? 

Or had it been a tribute to her mother? No one is better than Athena. 

It was a motto she and her siblings had learned by heart. Even when she’d met Percy, her first thought had been her loyalty to her mother. Her mother, who was so cold and calculated, considered Percy a threat. But, Percy’s loyalty to her had never been conditional.

Percy had been the one thing she’d refused to compromise on—until he’d left her too, just as Athena had sworn he would. Annabeth still remembered the triumph in her mother’s eyes when he’d accepted godhood, like she’d won something. 

The thought filled her with fury, and the tiny pinprick of an idea. “You’re right,” she said, swallowing, “Athena would never be able to handle a weaver of your caliber on Olympus.” 

Arachne stared at her, dumbfounded. “Yes,” she drew out the word, “I am glad you can recognize that.” 

“I just wish people could see it. I mean, it took me forever to get down here. People don’t go for anything that isn’t accessible nowadays.” 

“Gaea has promised me tapestries upon tapestries,” Arachne frowned, “A chance to show the entire world that I am the best.” 

“Where? On the earth, covered with more dust?” Annabeth hummed, as though deep in thought. “Oh, I know! If your work was on Olympus, everyone would know you were better than Athena.” 

“Olympus will fall,” Arachne sneered, and then faltered, “But I suppose we could still leave Mount Olympus standing for my work.” 

“Yes, exactly.” Annabeth said, letting out an internal sigh of relief. “I guess it’s settled then. I’m sure I can convince everyone.” 

Arachne shook her head. “But, Gaea promised me your soul. How can you display it if you are dead?” 

Annabeth’s eyes widened, as she looked around and saw little ragdolls all around. It had been one of Gaea’s agents guarding Kronos’s soul, and she wondered whether he’d known. If he hadn’t, he was yet to play his final trick on her, and she would need to be wary. If he had known… 

But that was a thought for another day, and another villain. 

“Gaea’s trapped my soul in there,” she pointed to a ragdoll with tangled, blonde locks and crossed eyes, “Hasn’t she?” 

Arachne nodded, looking troubled. “Maybe I should just kill you now, to cement the bonds.” 

“No! You still need me,” Annabeth said, searching for the right words, “To pick out the right artwork for Olympus.” 

“These tapestries are fine,” Arachne waved a spindly leg carelessly, slowly skittering toward Annabeth. 

“Of course they’re fine,” Annabeth said carefully, “Something Athena would do.” 

Arachne paused, considering. “You would have me make something entirely new, then. I don’t know if I have enough threads.” 

Annabeth’s mind went back to the quest she’d gone on with Hazel and Frank, and the plane ride they’d taken to Alaska. They’d talked strategy, but Frank had also shown her his Chinese handcuffs, and she’d immediately jotted it down, thinking it would be a good joke to play on Thalia. 

Thankfully, she’d remembered to write it down on her laptop. She pulled it up, showing it to Arachne, praying to the gods that Arachne wouldn’t have heard of it. After a long moment, Arachne nodded. 

“I can do this easily. And you are sure it will best Athena?” 

“Leave her speechless.” Annabeth promised, waiting until Arachne turned her back to close her eyes with relief. 

Arachne grew more absolved with her work, lost enough that she didn’t pay Annabeth any more attention. Taking the opportunity, Annabeth moved toward the rag doll and gutted it with her knife. It withered away to dust in her arms, and she felt the knot in the pit of her stomach unravel. 

Her soul was still her own. 

Minutes later, Arachne reemerged, her expression gloating. “That was too easy, spawn.” 

“I think I see something in the middle,” Annabeth said, squinting, “It’s unraveling.” 

“You’re lying,” Arachne spat, but Annabeth didn’t back down. 

“See for yourself.” 

Muttering, Arachne walked right into the middle, peering through the gaps. “No mistake,” she said triumphantly, and then froze.

Her spider body was too large to escape from the gap, and she howled with rage, curses flying through the air. Annabeth managed a shaky smile, her attention on the large concealed mass in the center of the cavern. 

The Athena Parthenos would return home at last. It looked a little heavy, but she would deal with that problem later. 

“You tricked me,” Arachne glared, “You were never going to help me.” 

“You weren’t going to leave me alive,” Annabeth retorted, and Arachne sputtered with outrage. 

She turned away, looking at the Athena Parthenos, tugging at one of the threads. The little flash of gold cast the cavern in a brilliant glow, and Annabeth beamed, turning back toward Arachne. 

The weaver had a surly frown on her face. “Stupid Athena. Stupid statue.” 

Annabeth whirled around, unable to help herself. “Yeah? Well, Athena thanks you. Because of you, we have a chance to return the statue to Olympus. Because of you, Athena has been avenged and her name has been restored.” 

Something flickered over Arachne’s features, and her eyes narrowed with hate. “So be it,” she hissed, as the cavern shook. 

Annabeth stumbled, her grin fading. “What are you doing? We’ll both die.” 

“So be it,” Arachne repeated, and Annabeth lunged toward the statue, trying to lug it out of the widening cracks. Tarturus glowed beneath them, the smelly, hot fumes flushing her skin. 

“Gods,” Annabeth felt loose cobwebs tangle around her, rolling through the debris. She clung tightly to the statue, rummaging through her satchel for something, anything that could help her. 

Her fingers wrapped around the blue jellybean that Grover had given her, and she cursed under her breath. Would he come for her? 

She let the bean tumble from her fingers, closing her eyes in concentration. Percy, I offer this blue jellybean to you. Annabeth groaned; the words sounded weird, and even she couldn’t take that prayer seriously. 

Percy, she started again, Percy if you can hear me, I need you. I’m falling into Tartarus and I’m scared the statue’s going the same way. I don’t know where the Seven are—

Annabeth screamed, dodging a falling boulder. Arachne cackled, and Annabeth lay next to the statue, willing it to protect her. She’d just found it after so many centuries, which had to count for some brownie points, right? 

I need you. The words echoed in her mind, and she held onto them like a lifeline.

Chapter Text

I need you. 

It was so faint Percy thought he was imagining it. Was a phantom prayer a real thing? He snuck a glance around the rest of the group, trudging along, sporting tired expressions. The last fight against the twins had taken a lot out of them. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” Frank suggested, “Just for a little while.” 

The thought of wasting even a second filled Percy with a flurry of anxiety, but he relented as the demigods collapsed into a heap. He’d tried reaching out to Gwen and Luke, but the Iris Message connection never solidified long enough for him to hold a conversation. 

All he could ever make out were spears clanging and more demigods falling to the floor, lifeless. He could only hope that Gwen could wrestle control of the situation, but he knew Octavian was slimy enough to claw back to power. 

Reyna had demanded a full account of his adventures, and Percy had complied. He told her the story of Luke’s rise to the praetorship and Octavian’s rumor that had threatened to destroy everything that they had worked for. He’d left out that Annabeth had been the one to send Luke to camp, instead explaining that Luke was probably just an escaped soul. 

The truth was, he didn’t exactly know how Annabeth had found Luke either, or how she knew that he wouldn’t turn again. And until he found out, it was better not to plant seeds of doubt into the minds of the other demigods. 

Still, a part of him wondered why Annabeth was still keeping secrets from him. Hadn’t Percy proven that she could trust him? What was so terrible that she couldn’t tell anyone except Luke? 

“But how could you trust someone that caused you so much pain?” Reyna had raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how many people Camp Jupiter lost in that war?” 

“Luke is…” Percy had trailed off, suddenly defensive. “He’s not exactly the ideal hero, but he’s on the right side this time.” 

“I wouldn’t trust anyone like that within two feet of my soldiers,” Reyna had insisted, “I hate to say it, but I agree with Octavian.” 

“Luke wasn’t always that way,” Percy had said quietly, adding, “The gods ruined his life.” 

It was the first time he’d really voiced that thought aloud to another person, but he’d come to understand Luke’s bitterness over the years. Always searching for validation just beyond your reach. Trying to find love and respect among beings who just saw you as a tiny chapter of their life or tools to do whatever they needed. 

It was enough to make anyone feel used. 

And then it came again, a little firmer this time, jarring Percy from his thoughts. I need you. 

The voice seemed achingly familiar, but it might have been wishful thinking. 

And then the ground underneath them shook, splintering the earth into a thousand pieces. Percy’s eyes stung as the dust swirled around them, and Grover doubled over coughing. Piper wrinkled her nose, burying her face into Jason’s shoulder. Even Reyna fared no better; the best she could offer Hazel and Frank were her tattered shawls. 

These weren’t any ordinary fumes, Percy realized, as their pace slowed to a steady crawl. The wind picked up speed, and Nico hobbled toward him, his voice a weak sputter. “We’re close. I can feel it.” 

They were following the jagged crack that ran across the soil, slowly widening with every passing moment. Percy was sure that it would be wider than most rivers within minutes. The voice still whispered in his mind, growing louder by the second. 

“Hey G-Man. I think I hear something.” He grabbed Grover’s shoulder, trailing off. “Or someone.” 

  Grover raised an eyebrow, casting the rest of the group a sideways glance. “Are you sure it’s her?” 

Percy hesitated. “No. But what if it is?”

He focused his energy toward the prayer, imagining himself propelled toward the source of the sound. His form glowed with power, and Percy opened his eyes to find himself—

Exactly where he started. 

Grover shot him a funny look. “Sorry, man. Was that supposed to do something?” 

Percy stumbled, his eyes flickering with understanding. “She’s here. Oh my gods, she’s here!” 

Grover let out a gasp, before gesturing frantically to the rest of the group. “Annabeth,” he called, “Annabeth.” 

“Percy.” A faint, muffled voice erupted through, and he fought the urge to collapse into broken sobs. 

 As the crack widened further, Percy saw a bloodied hand reaching upward, clawing at the rubble. Waves of nausea rolled over him the closer he inched toward the opening, but he gritted his teeth and trudged on. 

“Hey.” He barely managed a choked whisper as he grasped Annabeth’s dry, cracked hand, pulling her up beside him. Little jolts of electricity traveled up his spine as their fingers interlaced. “I got you.” 

And we’re together. But those thoughts were probably better left unsaid. 

Annabeth’s face paled. She buried her face into his shoulder, her face streaked with soot and tears. “What have I done?” 

He pushed back a strand of hair from her face. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe something no child of Athena has ever managed to do? You found the Parthenos, Wise Girl.” 

She suddenly broke away from him, almost as though she’d been burned. “I never should have…my fault…you should have stayed with him…with Camp Jupiter.” 

“No, I made my choice, Annabeth. You did the right thing, this quest was important.” 

Annabeth’s face contorted, and Percy whirled around, immediately authoritative. “We’ve got to secure the statue. Jason, do you think you can fly it up?” 

Jason managed a tight nod as the rest of the seven manuevered the Athena Parthenos onto the ship. The floor groaned and the heat from below felt as though it would sear Percy’s skin.  

“We’ve got to go,” Hazel said, “This chamber isn’t going to last long.” 

Annabeth staggered to her feet, her walk slowing to a hobble because of her broken ankle. Her wrist flared with pain and she resisted the urge to howl. Did Kronos seriously think right now was the right time to ask for a status update? 

Foolish girl. How long will you ignore me? 

Annabeth fell to the ground, stabs of pain shooting through her limbs. At this rate, she was sure Kronos’s bracelet would leave a permanent mark. 

The scythe. Drop it into Tartarus. Or suffer my wrath.  

She cast a nervous glance towards Percy’s back pocket, where the golden weapon gleamed tantalizingly. Annabeth shook her head violently, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.

You swore on the Styx. This brings no immediate harm to your friends.  

Well, he had her there. She should have known that the Crooked One would have found a way to outsmart her eventually. 

Don’t even think about slipping out of this one, Annabeth. My spies await to end your quest and fellow demigods, permanently. 

Percy’s gentle tap jerked her out of her thoughts. “Do you need ambrosia?” 

“No, I’m…” Annabeth swallowed, her eyes still fixed on the scythe, “I’m fine.” 

And if that isn’t motivation enough, let me tell you how easy it would be to destroy that little house in California your family calls home. Gaea already plots to annihilate your camps. What will you have left?

It was easy enough to sacrifice your own soul, it was harder still to sacrifice the souls closest to you. A true huntress would do anything to protect Artemis, and by extension, Olympus, even if it meant making the impossible choice. These past few days, though, Annabeth hadn’t felt worthy of her title. 

“It’s only a little more,” Percy urged, and Annabeth focused on the nearing ship, “We’re almost there.” 

She’d almost made it. But just as her hand had brushed the rung of the ladder, she felt herself suddenly yanked backwards. “Cut it! Cut it!” 

Screams from the ship echoed through her hazy mind, but realization settled in too late. Stray tendrils of Arachne’s web had wrapped themselves around her foot and had now dragged her to the edge of the pit. This was all her fault, a direct result of her unwavering pride. She should have known not to gloat, but a part of her needed that validation to feel worthy. 

To be remembered as the cleverest daughter of Athena. To be the most dependable, loyal huntress. To finally build something permanent that the entire world could admire. 

Percy had never made her value feel contingent on her achievements. And even though they’d drifted apart, she still knew that he saw her in a way she’d never be able to see herself in. 

Also, he was here now, which had to mean something, right?

Percy had somehow managed to hang onto her throughout this, but she could now see his face twisted with effort. The scythe had fallen from his pocket and onto a nearby ledge below them, but it was too far from his outstretched fingers. 

With his disheveled hair and smudged skin, Percy looked strangely human. But even exhausted and bruised, she’d never thought he’d looked more beautiful.  

I’ll have your soul after all, Annabeth. She couldn’t tell if Arachne’s words were a real premonition of worse days to come, or an imagined reflection of her mind’s deepest fears.   

She didn’t want to become a traitor; maybe death by Tartarus would spare her from deciding. After all, it was better to die a hero than to be remembered as a villain. 

But not choosing was also making a choice, and she didn’t want to drag down Percy Jackson with her. 

“You can’t pull me up, Percy,” she said, sadly, “Let me go.” 

“Never,” he gasped, his voice strained. 

“The fumes will kill you, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth forced a smile, “Gods aren’t meant to be in Tartarus remember? Go do what I asked you to do. Help Luke.” 

Percy tightened his grip on her hand, eyes glimmering. “No way. I’m not stupid enough to let you go this time. Never again.” 

Only then did Annabeth truly understand what would happen. A one-way ticket. A very hard fall. And Percy, by her side, loyal to a fault. 

Her mind whirred into overdrive. If she didn’t give Kronos the scythe, she’d prevent his rise to power. But if his words were to be believed, she’d lose all the people she loved. If she did give him the scythe…

At the very least, she’d buy her friends some time. And maybe, just maybe, her father would be spared when the whole world erupted in flames. But she wasn’t sure anyone would understand her choice to work with one of their greatest enemies. Some days, she didn’t understand her own choice.   

She vaguely registered Percy’s words to Nico and the rest of the Seven, filled with promises to meet them at the other side. 

“You’ll have to lead them there, Nico.”

Nico nodded resolutely, and Annabeth suddenly had a vision of the tiny ten year old that worshipped the ground Percy walked on. “I will, I promise.” 

Percy grimaced as his grip on the ledge loosened, but he glanced down to flash her a soft, reassuring smile. “This is it, Wise Girl.” 

“Right.” Annabeth tugged at a piece of loose rubble from the edge and carefully aimed towards the scythe, her thoughts faraway. The images of Bobby and Matthew and her dad playing with model planes were bright in her mind. All she needed was one clean shot. 

With a clean clink it tumbled off the little strip it had been sitting down and sunk into the abyss. The white hot pain faded immediately and she let out a deep breath. 

“What are you doing, Annabeth?” Percy’s voice was hard, staring at her with an expression she couldn’t read. “Are you crazy?” 

Her stomach twisted into knots; she hated the way he was looking at her right now. Like he was seeing her for who she really was.  

She trembled slightly as silvery tufts of mist leeched from her body and rose toward the heavens; her muscles slowed and her breaths grew sharper and her skin dulled as she felt the weight of Artemis’s blessings fade. For all her indiscretions and stray thoughts, this was one that the goddess could not ignore. 

As fate would have it, Percy’s hand finally slipped from the ledge and then they were falling, falling, falling.  

She’d done it. She’d officially forsaken her vows and betrayed Olympus.

Chapter Text

Percy closed his eyes, bile threatening to rise up his throat. If the fumes weren’t bad enough, the endless fall felt like a plane ride he hadn’t asked for. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been falling—hours, days, weeks. Everything just blurred together in Tartarus. 

Annabeth was curled into a ball, but he wasn’t sure if that was the safest approach to their makeshift skydiving. He’d have to ask Jason next time he saw him. If he ever saw him again.  

He was seriously beginning to wish for a parachute when Annabeth’s head suddenly tilted up. “Water,” she muttered, “There’s probably water down there.” 

The darkness seemed to blanket over them like a shroud, but if Percy squinted he could see the glittering surface of a river. Still, the water felt strangely distant, and it took every ounce of his strength to lift it higher. Every breath felt like it came with the weight of a thousand needles poking into his head. 

“Hold on,” Percy said, wincing as they barreled toward the ground with increasing speed.  

As they finally crashed into the water, Percy started shivering, the icy water stabbing his skin. Every breath was hard fought; his lungs felt frozen solid. Annabeth’s hand slipped from his, and she began to sink deeper into the frigid water. 

The whirlpool he’d fought to maintain was slowly disappearing, and he didn’t think Annabeth would be able to stay afloat much longer without it. Worse of all, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get out of the river after all. Little voices swirled all around him, whispering cold, angry thoughts. 

What’s the use in surviving anyway? You don’t know if you can even trust her. 

Percy gritted his teeth, casting Annabeth a nervous glance. He’d wanted to give Annabeth the benefit of the doubt, but how was she going to explain tossing away their only chance to defeat the giants? Maybe she’d had some sort of arrangement with Luke. What if coming to Tartarus had all been part of her secret plan to save everyone? Or, the tiny voice whispered, what if he’d walked into a trap? 

And she’d lost her blessings too. He’d noticed the second that the unnatural glow of immortality evaporated from her skin. When Annabeth had regained her blessings on the Argo II, he hadn’t been able to control the flicker of disappointment that flashed across his face. Regular Annabeth, even done up in her Roman attire, had felt more reachable, more human. 

Huntress Annabeth immediately put boundaries between them, and he sometimes felt like he had no idea where he stood with her. Were they friends? Whatever the godly definition of a coworker was? Or the third option buried deep in his brain that he was too afraid to voice? 

Maybe Annabeth didn’t have all those complications racing in her head about them. Maybe she was conflicted about something else. Did that mean she’d fallen for someone and Artemis had figured it out? He couldn’t even imagine her finding time to find a boyfriend on their quest. It wasn’t fair, he knew, but the thought made him bristle slightly. 

But the alternative…that she’d betrayed them? 

She seeks your downfall. It would be peaceful to drown, you know. Your lives mean nothing but pain.

“Percy!” Annabeth’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “We have to get to land or we’ll get stuck in the current.” 

“It’s too heavy,” he snapped, “I can barely move the water. And what’s the point?” 

“You can,” she whispered, “It’s the river spirits talking; they feed off of our misery. I hear them too.” 

He turned away, refusing to meet her gaze. Her eyes grew glassy and her lower lip quivered. “Please, Percy. They need us.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, managing a tight nod. He was going to have to pick and choose his battles. Annabeth had just made everything infinitely more complicated. With a groan, he tugged at the water, his limbs as stiff as lead pipes. They tumbled onto the riverbank, hunched over and sputtering. Annabeth reached for him, but he quickly backed away, shaking his head. 

“No. No! Just tell me what’s going on,” Percy frowned, “I’m done with your secrets, Annabeth. We were supposed to be on the same team, remember?” 

“We are,” Annabeth said earnestly, “You and me, Percy. Nothing has changed.” 

“You lost your blessings, Annabeth.” Percy threw his hands up, frustrated. “Why?” 

“Because I broke my vows, Percy, obviously.” 

“You fell in love.” Percy threw his hands up. “Please tell me that’s what happened.” 

Annabeth fell silent for a few moments and he looked away. “No, I did the other thing.” 

He felt his muscles release the tension they’d been holding. At least she wasn’t hiding it from him. And maybe the tiniest part of him was glad that…that there wasn’t someone else that she would risk everything for. 

“The scythe,” he said, his eyes darkening, “Why would you sabotage our best chances of defeating Gaea?” 

“I can’t tell you exactly,” she said, frustrated, “I can’t break another promise on the Styx. But just think, Percy.”  

He closed his mind, searching his memories for the maddeningly elusive answer. What was the first thing he’d started to question? 

Luke. 

His arrival had sent alarm bells ringing through Percy’s mind, but he’d left Camp Jupiter believing that Luke sought redemption. No, he didn’t think Luke was behind Annabeth’s sudden turn against Olympus. 

But what had been strange, he remembered, was how fast the other demigods had made it to Rome. Almost as though they’d sped up. Or the rest of the world had slowed down. Or how Annabeth had known about the scythe, and where to find it. 

The golden scythe. He suddenly leapt to his feet, every single atom in his body buzzing with energy. “Please tell me I’m wrong, Annabeth. Tell me you aren’t working with him. ” 

“I wish I could.” She mustered a forced smile, pushing back her parka to reveal the silver charm dangling on her bracelet. “Unfortunately, the enemy of an enemy is a friend.”

Percy grabbed at her wrist, suddenly hissing in pain. “Gods, what is this, glued to your wrist?” 

“I’ve tried everything to get it off,” she sighed, “There’s no use.” 

“How could you make a deal with Kronos, Annabeth?” 

“I didn’t have a choice, at the time,” Annabeth said, “He had Luke all chained up, and I don’t know, I just couldn’t not do anything.” 

“But it’s Kronos. And technically, Luke is already dead.” 

“It’s like when you came for me,” she paused, “well, me and everybody else. You made a choice to leave Camp Jupiter.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Percy said, annoyed, “It’s different. They needed me here. To get the scythe that you lost!”

Annabeth snorted. “Right, and if Kronos didn’t get us across the Atlantic, Nico would be dead.” 

“Are you defending him?” 

“Well, he’s actually been helpful against Gaea. Our parents have become Dr. Jekylls and Hydes. My own mother disowned me, and Artemis is just—” 

“Just what?” 

“Nothing,” Annabeth said, “Sometimes I feel like I can’t measure up to who she thinks I am, to who she wants me to be. Like my parka was just a costume.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true.” 

She scoffed. “Right. That’s why I lost my immortality.” 

“Oh come on, Annabeth. After all this is over, I’m sure they’ll understand.” 

“That I wanted to save Luke Castellan’s soul?” 

Percy grimaced. “Maybe not that. But I’ll vouch for you, I promise.” 

“Sure, yeah. I guess if you say so, the gods can’t smite me. Besides they might not even remember all of the stuff that’s happened.” 

“Okay, fine, the gods suck,” Percy admitted, “But what about me?” 

“What about you?” Annabeth said, amused. 

“I’ve been helping,” Percy said, raising an eyebrow. “You could have just asked me. I would have done anything.” 

“Anything?” Annabeth was inches away from him, her eyes flickering, and Percy flushed. 

“Well, sure.” He met her gaze, evenly. “You already know that, Annabeth. You’d do it for me in a heartbeat.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she said, the corners of her lips lifting. Percy wondered if she thought about their time together as often as he had been these past couple months. When he’d saved her from Atlas, or when she’d taken a knife sure to kill him. 

When they’d danced together on Olympus or when he’d shown her his Achilles spot. He still remembered the electricity that had coursed through his veins and how his breath had been sucked away. Back when he’d felt human, anyway. 

Her expression grew somber and she added, “It’s stupid, anyway. I thought I could control him, or even outsmart him, somehow. But he’s the Crooked One for a reason.” 

“It’s not crazy. We’ve defeated him before, remember,” Percy lifted her chin gently, “But you can’t do everything alone, or you’ll be buried under the weight of your secrets.” 

“Wow,” Annabeth nodded approvingly with the hint of a smile, “Getting all philosophical on me Percy?” 

“That’s my job, now,” Percy puffed his chest slightly, “I give really good godly advice, apparently.” 

Annabeth’s face fell a little at that, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. 

He then began to pace at the edge of the riverbank, suddenly doubled over with a fit of coughing. He hacked up shimmery, golden clots tinged with specks of black. His vision blurred suddenly, and he stumbled to his knees. 

“Shit.” Annabeth’s eyes widened, her hand clapped over her mouth. “You have Tartarus poisoning.” 

“I’m assuming that’s not very good,” Percy said, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s literally killing us to be here,” she said, casting a glance at her blistered hand. The wound didn’t seem to be healing at all. “We have to go to the River of Fire.” 

It took them longer than Percy would have liked to reach the ledge Annabeth wanted them to get to, courtesy of how often he needed to vomit. Just when he thought he’d depleted his supply and his stomach had been stretched to its limits, a wave of nausea would roll over and he’d fall to the ground again. He cursed his immortal body and its seemingly endless supply of blood.  

“I can’t believe this,” Annabeth stomped her foot as they reached the cliff, “We have to climb down?” 

Percy didn’t answer; he could feel blisters and boils erupting over his face, and silence seemed a better alternative than throwing up. Carefully, they trudged down the rock wall as Annabeth explained that the river was named Phlegm-something and that it was the Underworld’s version of ambrosia. 

Percy felt too sick to even test out his spitball joke, and so he sat sullenly, arms crossed as Annabeth started to lean toward the flames. 

“You said you were going to drink that?” He managed, and Annabeth shrugged. 

“No choice.” She scooped the flames up with her hands and judging by the fresh tears streaming down her face, Annabeth had drunk the equivalent of a ghost pepper. Shudders ran through her body and her face reddened. 

When she finally calmed, she urged him to the river, much to Percy’s unease. Sure enough, when he tried to inhale the flames, they slipped through his fingers, leaving scorch marks on his palms. The pain induced another round of vomiting, and Percy lay on the floor, fatigue weighing on his being. 

“I don’t get it,” she said, “It worked for me. This is the river of healing.” 

“Maybe because I’m a god,” Percy said, wiping the ichor from his mouth, “Maybe there’s another river for me.” 

“Yeah.” 

Annabeth faltered slightly, and Percy nudged her. “You can tell me.” 

“It’s just…” Annabeth trailed off, “There’s never been a god in Tartarus before, you know? It’s uncharted territory.” 

Uncharted territory, huh? That was her nice way of telling him he probably wasn’t going to make it out alive.