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It starts like this: In every version of this story, Orpheus turns. The why differs. He doubted the mercy of the Gods and turned. He got too excited and turned when she was just a step away from life. He heard her stumble and turned to catch her.
But the why doesn’t matter, all that matters is how the story starts and how it ends. Orpheus loves Eurydice and she loves him. It’s the sort of love that could end the world. She dies, he still turns, and there is no happy ending.
It happens every time, but even Gods can grieve, even Gods can look at the unfairness of the world and decide no - they will live, and they will find their happiness through blood and toil. Even Gods can decide to defy fate.
It starts with Orpheus and Eurydice, and then it starts with Hermes, older than the cracking remnants of humanity and so tired of watching this tragedy play out over and over again. His solution? Ensure that those chosen, those Fate touched and damned, won’t be the sort of people who fail.
Here’s how it goes: Hermes settles down at a loom. And somewhere in the mortal world, Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase begin to cry, so alive it's brilliant.
*The first try
There is a war on the horizon, blooming around them and Annabeth laughs, she tilts back her head with her teeth bared to the heavens. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks over at him, “Why are you staring?”
Percy shifts closer, his hands slipping over her scars, over the gray-streaked braid, “I love you.” They’re seventeen and he has this terrible feeling they won’t live long. Demigods tend not to.
She looks at him, and when she finds only the truth she says, “I don’t.” But then her eyes widen slightly, “I mean I don’t but I could.” Softer, a whisper carried away on smoke-tainted air, “I would.”
And Percy hears it so clearly it burns, I would - if we had the time. I would love you if we both lived, if our story was a kind one and I got to live just a little longer with you. It makes him want to scream or wail, but war is around them and there is no time for breaking.
So instead he smiles, winding her braid around his fingers and flushing at the easy way she falls into his side. “I know wise girl, I know.”
Annabeth leans forward into the crook of his neck, pretending that she can’t hear what he doesn’t say. I know you would have loved me if we had the time, but I’m afraid we don’t.
(She goes first, she always does. She falls, expecting him to catch her. Her hand stretches out in the air, waiting. There is no one to catch it.
He is moments too late.
Annabeth falls, Percy watches, and Hermes flinches back. He takes the tapestry, a masterpiece of life and death, and he unravels the string. He sets it back on the loom and starts again. He went wrong somewhere, he’ll fix it.)
*Again
She presses her hands to his chest, desperately trying to stop the blood flow. But Annabeth isn’t stupid, she’s twelve not naive. Percy is dying, and unless the Gods save him nothing will. And she knows by now that the Gods do not come, not even for their own children.
He looks up at her, blood staining his pale white lips, and he is so young a part of her screams. They’re all so young.
His fingers dig into her arm, desperate and clawing and it’s her fault he ended up here. Annabeth hadn’t trusted him, she had been so confident until she wasn’t. She had faltered, and Percy paid for it.
She smiles, or tries to, “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Just stay awake a little longer, please.”
Her words ring false and he knows it. Percy pulls her closer, desperate for a human touch, for any bitter-sweet comfort. He whispers, iron-soaked and wet, “My mom - you have to - my mom.”
Annabeth takes one blood-soaked hand and holds his face, it’s not like the pressure would actually save him. The red looks horrific on his pale skin, and the act of drifting her thumb back and forth only serves to smear the red everywhere. She wants to puke.
Instead, she whispers, “What? What do you want me to tell your mom?”
Percy’s eyes water, and Demigods do not live long lives. Neither do heroes. He writhes on the ground, his back arching with pain before he falls back to the ground. He spits out, pain echoing in his voice, “Tell her - I tried, I really tried.”
She nods, and for the first time in years, her words fail her. As the light slowly fades from his eyes she manages a whisper, “I will. It’s okay Percy, I will.”
Then he dies, and Annabeth starts screaming.
(Hermes tears up the tapestry, this one short and thin, barely able to cover his legs. He had gone wrong somewhere early, poisoned the rest of the threads. Too daring, too blunt, too clashing. They would never live if they first could not fall together.
Falling together is essential. Because only then can it truly hurt, only then could they love each other so much they would try and defy the Fates themselves. Falling together, really, is the first step in this story.
Hermes starts again.)
*One more time, please one more time
Annabeth doesn’t trust that he’ll wait for her, that she has something to stay for. She becomes a huntress, and she does not look back. If she did she would have seen the first crack in Percy.
Without Annabeth, he breaks a little earlier in this life, and this time there is no way to put him back together. Grover dies in a battle at Camp, and Percy sinks him into the earth surrounded by grieving spirits. Nature cries out and he hardens.
The next time he faces Luke-Kronos Annabeth is half a state away with the rest of the huntresses. She’s fighting the same war but on a different front. Percy takes a look at the Titan, and then at the Gods cowering while their children die, and he snaps.
He tears Luke Castallen’s half-ichor body apart, tearing the threads of Fate along with it. By the time he is done, there is nothing left of Mount Olympus, and his mother is somewhere buried in the rubble of New York City along with dozens of Demigods.
Percy looks at the destruction, he looks at the blood-soaked earth and there is no one to stay his hand. There is no one to look at him and so utterly believe in good that he too believes. There is no one to make him see the light.
When the Gods arrive at Olympus Percy kills three before he dies. He tears them apart using the very thing that makes them - them, he tears the Godliness from their blood and he laughs all the while, or maybe he cries.
Athena drives her spear through his still mortal heart, and as he dies on the other end, bleeding red that mixes with the gold-splattered throne room. As he dies Percy looks up at her, and for a brief moment, all he sees is Annabeth.
Then he’s gone, and somewhere amongst the forests, licking their wounds, Annabeth of the Huntresses feels a piece of her die.
*He’ll get it right this time. He has too. His body still aches from annihilation
“Why?” She’s begging him, pleading with him for a simple answer that’ll somehow make all this better. Percy laughs, and it rings hollow. Annabeth flinches back, blood staining her temple.
He steps closer, his eyes glowing and a vicious smile on his face. He truly looks like Kronos’s right hand, like the boy who betrayed all of them. Like the Demigod who tore apart his father, gold spraying across the ocean beneath them.
Percy tilts his head, mocking and confident, “Come now Annabeth, we both know how this story goes. And it’s been too long since the Gods faced the consequences of their actions, of their kin.”
She curls her hand around the hilt of her knife, useless against the boy who can control blood. But letting go of it almost seems like a betrayal. Annabeth shakes her head, “There’s another way, there has to be another way.”
Because this - this world he and Luke created - it can’t be right. So many Demigods, so many children dead at the hands of their friends, their siblings, their kin. This can’t be the right solution, even if history echoes down the line and it’s been a long time since the son kills father kills son kills father.
Percy laughs, and this time it isn’t cruel, it’s full of pain. “There was no other way. You know that wise girl.”
It’s the nickname that does it, the reminder that once they were young and half in love, that once they almost had it all. She lets out a sound that could only be described as keening. And Annabeth Chase, one of the last remaining Generals of the Demigods fighting for the Gods, falls to her knees.
She hits the ground, her body shaking with pain, although whether it’s from her bruises and wounds or the boy in front of her she doesn’t know. Percy watches her shake, he watches her break, and then it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten her.
He slowly kneels in front of her, his voice so quickly losing its cruelty that she almost wants to forget what she’s seen him do. “There isn’t another way, but we can make a better world.” She tilts her head up and when she meets his eyes they’re bordering on kind. “You can make a better world.”
Percy offers out his hand and Annabeth takes it.
She drags him into an embrace, holding him tightly even as her hands tremble. After a moment of shock, he hesitantly holds her back. His arms wrap around her easily, and it’s like coming home, it’s like nothing has changed.
Tears carve a path down her face, and Percy buries his head in the crook of her neck. He whispers, for one moment forgetting exactly who she was, “I missed you wise girl.”
Annabeth closes her eyes, and the sounds of the battlefield, of dying children and the crackle of their pyres, fade briefly. “I missed you too Percy.”
And then she opens her eyes, and her hands do not hesitate as she drives her dagger into the small of his back - into his one vulnerable spot.
Percy chokes, his weight falling on her and she takes it readily. He thrashes in her grasp but her hold on him doesn’t waver, and the dagger only sinks in further. Blood trickles around her fingers, her hands stained a red that will never quite come out.
Annabeth holds him until the fight stops, and it’s telling of both of them that he doesn’t stop her heart in his last moments. It never occurs to him to try. It’s rather telling that she kills him, and that he cannot kill her, not even for this betrayal.
Percy slowly stills in her arms, his breathing becoming more and more quiet, barely there. In his last moments, she finally relents, and guides him back, the knife slipping out of place as easily as she had fallen into his arms. He looks up at the stars with awe, no -
He looks at her with a sort of awe in his eyes. Percy lazily tries to lift his hand, he doesn’t reach her face but his hand manages to grasp one of her braids. He traces the end of it, and Annabeth remembers suddenly being sixteen and the intense way he had watched Selena braid her hair with careful hands, the way she had found him practicing on a dummy later. His sheepish smile, I want to be able to help you, if you need it.
Percy Jackson, the son of both Sally Jackson and Poseidon, smiles up at her. And with blood smeared across his teeth, and not the faintest trace of betrayal or hate in his eyes, he whispers, “It’s you. Of course, it’s you.”
And then he dies.
When Luke finds her hours later, still by his side despite his body having long gone cold, she does not run and she does not fight. Annabeth turns up her head, she straightens her back, she looks Luke-Kronos in the eyes, and snarls. “You’ve already lost.”
The swing of the sword, and the spray of blood as it hits her throat is almost a relief.
(He stares at the threads in both confusion and annoyance. They’re so heavily connected that he couldn’t untie the two mortals if he wanted to and yet -
Yet they still keep straying, still keep following this ancient path of Fate and Tragedy. They never mean to, he knows this, Hermes is well aware of this fact. But the Gods meddle, and Demigods break, and the story ends the same.
So he has to make sure the Gods do not meddle, if only that were easy. Hermes picks up the thread and begins again, the loom creaks under his fingers, and gold sweat stains his forehead. It is hard playing Fate when you are not her, but he has come too far to give up now.)
*The first try
There is no war in this life. They have never had to fight, to carve their place in this life. The two of them are gentle, or as gentle as Demigods can be. And somewhere after Percy’s fourth summer, they fall together like Fate.
Everyone expects it and the next time Luke visits and sees Percy intently listening to Annabeth rant about architecture, smiling and looking at her like she’s the sun, he passes Chris ten dollars. The world is as kind as it can be, and they’re so love-soaked that Aphrodite squeals every time they’re mentioned, much to their parent's annoyance.
It’s lovely, it’s amazing, its’ -
Annabeth laughed, and under the faint light of the stars, Percy thought she looked beautiful. Flowers, from the overexcited daughter of Demeter, Veda, lingered in her curls. Her hair spread around like a dark halo, and he wanted to kiss her until the word stopped.
She looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, “What?”
He tangles their hands together, “You’re amazing. You’re just amazing.”
She smiled, almost like she couldn’t help it. Annabeth rolled her eyes, “You’re so stupid.” She didn’t mean a single word. And from his smile, he knew it too.
He pulled her closer and she let it, moving until they were only inches apart. Percy just kept looking at her, his eyes darting to her lips, before finally he said, “Can I kiss you?”
And Annabeth Chase, who may be halfway in love but was not stupid, said, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that for months.”
Her slight laugh died when he kissed her, when he swallowed it and held her face like she was the most sacred thing in this world. Her eyes slipped shut and oh, oh. This is what they mean.
Everything is perfect, the world is kind, and two months later while visiting her father she’s corned by a pack of monsters. Annabeth Chase dies in an alley, alone and shaking from the poison of the Giant Scorpion.
Not even the God of the Dead can be persuaded by Percy Jackson’s rage, by his grief. The story ends, and Demigods die young.
(Hermes looks at the tapestry, wondering where he went wrong. He finds it, lost amongst the blue and the gray, the lack of a War. While the Gods' meddling leads to the end of this story, the end of their version, it’s also essential for their survival.
It’s a balancing act of too much and not enough, of give and take and finding just the right amount. Their lives must be hard, they must taste hell, because only then can they have the strength to fight their way back to each other.
So he starts again, hopefully for the last time.)
*One last try
Everything remains as it was, but the Gods are not as horrific, and while the world is just as cruel, occasionally some kindness slips in. Percy and Annabeth fall together amongst blood and death, and they find the sort of love that could end worlds.
It’s beautiful, it’s devastating, and they are both so young and broken. But it has the potential, Hermes pulls at his loom, and it teeters on the edge of everything, on being enough, on almost.
Their story is as old as stories, as love and tragedy and all the ways they are intertwined. It ends a thousand times, a thousand different ways, but in this world, it goes like this: There is a fight, a battle for the Gods, there is always another fight.
These Demigods have grown tired of war, these world-weary children just want to rest. But there is another prophecy, and another war to win so they get up and fight as they always have. It is a tiring existence, which only serves to make having hope, having love even more extraordinary.
This battle is different, stained with the sins of their parents. Although perhaps every battle is that. A string weaved around Annabeth’s ankle, and hell’s hungry mouth beneath her. (Eurydice dies and Orpheus tries to save her, but he still turns.)
Percy caught her, his fingers digging into the unforgiving cliffside. He looked down, and even bloodied and half broken, her dark skin covered in a myriad of bruises and cobwebs, he thought Annabeth was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
(String wove together, the whisper of the story is reaching the end, will it be different, let it be different embedded among the bright red and black.)
“We’re staying together.” (Orpheus steps into the daylight. Eurydice behind him.) “You’re not getting away from me. Not this time.”
(The Fates and Hermes and the wind held its breath. Only a few more steps.) “As long as we’re together.”
He looks into her eyes for one last blissful moment, and then Percy lets go. (Orpheus does not turn around, Eurydice steps into the daylight.)
Hermes watches as the thread continues to spin, the loom going on and on without his hands. The story continues on when it should have stopped. The Demigods live on, in Tartarus but still - After everything he’s given them, everything they’ve taken, they will find a way to survive.
And this ancient story finally ends, the cycle breaks, the book is closed, and the last word echoed and mourned. The End.
Marko (Guest) Sat 06 Jan 2024 11:17PM UTC
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