Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When you’re a demigod, you learn quickly to not expect things to come to you easily. At least, that was always true for Annabeth. She had inherited all of her mother’s strategic skills and intelligence, and yet she had never been given the opportunity to use them. 

Reading was a joy, but only when she read in Ancient Greek. Otherwise, her brain took control and gave her a headache if she even dared read something off a menu. 

Even battle strategy hadn’t come easily to her. Once she learned it, she could easily apply to anything and everything, but that had come after grueling hours of study and countless mistakes. 

Fighting was also something that hadn’t come easily to her. She learned it by the book with no other idea of how to do it. Of course she could switch up her techniques and create new ones, but it came after long hours of practice and thinking.

And yet here she was watching Percy cut through mobs of monsters in fluid motions that she could never mimic no matter how hard she tried. There was no question as to how Percy had taken Luke’s title as the best swordsman in 300 years. This hero stuff had come naturally to him. He’d been thrust into prophecies and completed them with both hands tied behind his back while someone held him beneath the water. No matter how hard Percy tried, he couldn’t pull himself out of the spotlight. 

But no matter how hard Annabeth tried, she could bring herself into it. She loved Percy, she loved him so much, but it was difficult watching all of the things she had put so much work into be easy for him. He was a natural born leader, charismatic and intelligent. Annabeth had grown up in a kill or be killed world since she was eight, it constantly felt like it was her against the world. 

To her chagrin, she still couldn’t get the odd little flick of the wrist that Percy had tried to teach her down. He had explained it in a way that Annabeth knew meant he hadn’t realized he was doing it until she brought it up and was now having to talk himself through it as well. 

They had been at Camp Jupiter for a week now. Percy had wanted to leave the moment she had arrived, but he felt obligated to protect the people here now. Annabeth understood in the way that she understood how to read in English. She knew it was possible, she knew the elements behind it, and she heard descriptions from everybody else. Percy was loyal to a fault and she loved that about him, but Annabeth’s ambition would always carry her in a different direction. 

Besides how much he cared about the people here, Percy also was literally not cleared to leave. He was still healing from all of his injuries from his quest and the Battle for New Rome, and even ambrosia and nectar couldn’t heal immediately. It didn’t help that Percy had dislocated his shoulder and given himself a mild concussion falling off of a ladder while trying to screw a lightbulb in. You know that pun that’s like “how many ___ does it take to change a lightbulb?” 

In this case, it was demigods, and the answer was six. Two to try on their own, one to go grab Percy after they couldn’t get it in, and two more to carry an unconscious praetor to the physicians. 

Percy bounded over to Annabeth after finished his “physical therapy.” At least, that’s what the Romans called it. To keep his muscles strong, or something. All Annabeth saw was Percy nearly dying anytime he tried to rely on a move that was simply muscle memory to him that his body couldn’t carry out at the moment. 

“Annabeth! Mind walking with me over to the healers?” Percy beamed, causing Annabeth to raise a brow at him. She quickly appraised him for new wounds, but found none; Percy clucked at her like a mother hen. 

“No need to be so anxious, Wise Girl. Just your run of the mill check-in. Making sure my bones are healing right or something.” Percy’s smile was infectious as he pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s forehead. He grabbed her hand with his arm that wasn’t in a sling and began to drag her towards the Twelfth Legion. 

When it had first been established that Annabeth was in fact, not an enemy, but Percy’s girlfriend and as Percy had put it a “very scary, smart, cool person” she had been given a tour of New Rome. She had been amazed by the neoclassical architecture of the city. They had managed to seamlessly blend the traditional, ornate Roman style architecture of the gods with modern elements. Then she had been called a “graecus” by a very rude lemure that said it in a way that was reminiscent of a slur. After that, Annabeth began to realize just how out of place she was here. 

It wasn’t just that she was Greek, no. They had managed to accept Percy in spite of that. The Romans still perceived Annabeth as a threat. Maybe they thought she was trying to steal their praetor away(which, in all honesty, she sort of was) or maybe they were still convinced she was one of Gaea’s spies. She knew for a fact that the Octavian kid didn’t like her because she was a girl and smarter than him. Annabeth would have loved to see his face when he saw the Oracle of Delphi—a loud-mouthed, abrasive teen girl with an affinity of using art to take out her anger on the world(read: she regularly would start passive-aggressively making paintings to “sacrifice” to the gods that were rather rude and managed to never get cursed. Maybe they learned from the last time they cursed an oracle)—throw her hairbrush at someone for interrupting her painting session. 

Annabeth was left to wait outside the tent as Percy did his “run of the mill check in” awkwardly. She didn’t have many friends here, and the few she had made so far were through Percy. The person she felt the most kinship with was Reyna, but that was more because they were both women who had fought their way to the top just to be outshined by some child of prophecy. They didn’t connect much in any other way, just sharing that respect for each other.

Speaking of children of prophecy, Jason had finally been returned to Camp Jupiter. The entire camp had been ecstatic, and Percy was fully ready to step down as praetor, but Jason declined the offer(which angered a lot of people who still weren’t fully behind a Greek as one of the two most important mortals in the Twelfth Legion). Percy and Jason had an odd sort of relationship with each other. There was an immediate connection in the struggles they had both been through, but there was also an unspoken competition between the two. 

Jason was a Roman military officer, he believed success came from titles and battles won. And Percy had a lot of those. There was still a lot of shock for Jason hearing that Percy had declined what in his mind was the highest honor a mortal could get: godhood. 

But for Percy, Jason was able to help people, and that was all that mattered to him. Jason carried respect and power, power that he could use to protect people. Camp Jupiter and New Rome had more resources than Camp Half Blood could imagine having and a much lower death-rate getting demigods to the camp. But both of them got along well enough to know they had a common goal: keeping their people safe. They just thought there were different ways to do it.  

“The gods do not give a shit! Especially not the ones who could help us! Maybe, maybe, we get one Olympian to help us. I’m sure you know well enough that our definitions of help differ greatly from the gods!” Percy burst out, apparently tired of hearing Jason and Reyna’s reverence of the Roman Pantheon. Annabeth instinctively winced and a low rumble was heard outside. Whether that was Jason responding with frustration or his father in anger, Annabeth didn’t know. She didn’t think it mattered. 

“Maybe they don’t give a shit because you don’t bother to respect them! They have always helped the Romans!” Jason hissed back. Reyna and Jason were running this like a meeting between military officers. Percy was running this like he was back at Camp Half Blood drinking Diet Coke around a poker table. 

Annabeth was left to diffuse. 

“Jason, as much as I agree that Percy needs to dial it back on the aggression towards immortal beings, he has a point. Maybe they’ve helped you in the past, but when was the last time the gods actually reached out to the Twelfth Legion?” Annabeth asked, quieting the table. Reyna answered this one. 

“It was when Lord Mars appeared with the prophecy and the quest for Legionnaires Levesque and Zhang and Praetor Jackson.” Reyna said cooly. Percy groaned from beside Annabeth. 

“Will you cool it with the titles? If we’re all being sent on a suicide mission, the least people deserve is to be spoken to like actual people and not weapons.” Percy scoffed, taking a sip of what looked to be a blue cherry coke from an unnecessarily ornate goblet. Annabeth loved the architecture of the place, but they were over the top. The place is literally being run by teenagers, why do they have a war room with paintings of bloody battles? 

“What do you mean by being sent on a suicide mission?” Jason asked. Percy paused and Annabeth saw the gears in his head turning. If she didn’t know him so well, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the subtle tension in Percy’s shoulders. He was lying. 

“Critical thinking, Grace. How else are we gonna solve the tiny problem of a primordial being out to get the gods? Obviously we’re being sent on a quest, and I sincerely doubt it’s coincidence that we have the most powerful demigods of our age all within a twenty minute walk.” Percy deadpanned. Reyna and Jason seemed to accept this answer, but Annabeth wasn’t convinced. There was something Percy wasn’t telling them. 

It seemed like there was a lot of things Percy wasn’t telling people these days. 

Annabeth wanted to put it up to paranoia and remaining anxiety after finding Percy, but she had learned to evaluate things logically and she wouldn’t stop here. All of the evidence pointed towards one thing: Percy was lying. 

She knew he had been through a lot in the time he had been gone. He had died, for gods’ sake. But after everything they’d been through together, he couldn’t even tell her that he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it? There were too many shifty looks and avoidant topic switches. 

“But if the gods won’t interact with anyone anymore, how do we get the prophecy?” Annabeth asked. Percy hesitated again—for a split second, but it was there— and replied, 

“Rachel? She gets her powers through Apollo, but technically they’re separate entities, maybe she can still give out prophecies.” Percy’s voice didn’t sound very confident. Reyna took this as his moment to speak up, 

“You’re suggesting we temper tantrum a prophecy out of a demigod? What makes you think Apollo would gift her the prophecy?” Reyna seemed exhausted but desperate. Annabeth recognized the look. She wanted the glory, she wanted to complete this mission, but the cons outweighed the pros. She wouldn’t do something that put her friends and family at risk. 

“Rachel is the Oracle of Delphi, and we have annoyed a prophecy out of the old oracle before.” Percy said, making Reyna choke on air. Jason clapped her on the back, muttering something along the lines of “yeah that’s how I reacted as well.” 

“But the gods hadn’t gone no contact then, Percy. We could get Rachel into some serious trouble if she tries interfering with Zeus.” Annabeth said, bringing her legs up into a more comfortable position. She hugged them tight to her chest as she thought. 

“Well why don’t we just go above Zeus then? What’s he gonna do if he’s scared of someone backing us?” Percy asked. Annabeth fought the urge to scoff. It was a good plan, but there was such an astronomically small chance that any being more powerful than Zeus would be willing to back them it wasn’t worth wasting their energy on. 

“Who do you suggest? Lady Nyx? The Fates? They’d probably cut our strings early for trying to interfere with their weaving.” Annabeth deadpanned. Once again, that look appeared on Percy’s face. The “I know something you don’t” look. Annabeth hated it. What wasn’t she being told? How could she do her job if she didn’t have the full story? 

There was silence for a while before Percy finally responded. 

“It’s not like we have a terrible rapport with The Fates, is it? They might help us out. It’s not like we’re capable of messing up their plan in the long run anyways. All we need is a prophecy. Not even from them, maybe just a hint on how to get it.” Percy offered. Annabeth glanced over at Jason and Reyna who were staring at them quizzically. They needed a legitimate plan to offer, but so far no one could come up with one. 

“That could never work, gr—Praetor Jackson.” Jason shot out. Annabeth immediately tensed up at the beginning of a word she had begun to know well. Both she and Percy were now glaring in shock at Jason. He had been with the Greeks for so long, but clearly all was forgotten when he felt under threat. 

Jason seemed to regret his slip of words, which was almost enough for Annabeth. Percy however? He seemed to take that a lot more seriously. Annabeth assumed it was from being in proximity with the Romans for so long. 

“What the fuck is your camp’s problem with the Greek’s? You didn’t even fucking know there was a Greek camp before this, so there’s nothing we could've done. What is this misguided hatred? Because right now all I can think of is it stems from the rivalry we had literally centuries ago, which, I’m gonna be super transparent right now, is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. You literally won! And then copied our myths?” Percy slammed his non-injured fist down onto the table. 

“I nearly died saving you all when I could’ve spent my time going back home, I worked my ass off trying to hold some semblance of respect among you all, and what do I get for it? The campers love me, sure. But it’s really awkward when you walk into any shop in New Rome and all whispers cut off with ‘the greek!’” Percy’s tangent didn’t seem quite over, but Annabeth pulled him down, hissing about decorum. 

He glanced over at her, and the venom in his eyes seemed familiar. Annabeth couldn’t recognize it before his gaze softened as he looked at her. Reyna stood up to diffuse now. 

“I think we’re all caught up in the heat of the moment. We have no plan—“

“I literally came up with three and they were all shot down because they were ‘improbable!’” Percy put the last part in air quotes, earning a glare from Reyna. 

“We have no reasonable plan,” She corrected, which earned a shrug from Percy. “We’re all tired and scared. We’re ants in a war among giants and we have to keep moving along as if nothing’s happening. None of us are in our right minds right now, so I am going to ask we put this meeting on pause and reconvene tomorrow with a larger staff. I will send out the summons to the Council Staff tonight. Dismissed.” Reyna finished, and her dogs flanked to her sides. With a dramatic flip of her praetor’s cloak, she left. Jason nodded at both Percy and Annabeth before leaving, the scar on his lip stretched with a scowl. 

Percy wasn’t much better. 

“Percy—“ Annabeth began, but couldn’t finish before Percy turned back to her. 

“We’re all gonna die in this, Wise Girl. Maybe an ant can avoid being stepped on once or twice, but what are we gonna do when they come in with a blowtorch? Our lives are just collateral to the gods. If we died, maybe Olympus would mourn their champions, but eventually they’d forget. The gods would live on.” The bitterness in Percy’s voice was the final piece of the puzzle that Annabeth needed. 

She recognized that venom in his eyes now, that need to bite. And she could see that the barely suppressed rage and desperation was a part of it as well. 

When she looked at Percy, she could see Luke. It was like his voice was echoing Percy’s words and Annabeth was slowly losing track of what was in her head and what was in reality. 

She hesitated before reaching out to cup the side of Percy’s face. She wasn’t a physically affectionate person. She never felt safe enough to be. The last time she had opened herself up to a hug, she had been stabbed in the back. Literally, for gods’ sake. The last time she had trusted someone like she trusted Percy was Luke, so it was really fucking terrifying to think about how similar they were right now. 

Percy leaned into her hand, and for a moment the seething, broken boy was gone. Perseus Jackson, the Child of Prophecy, Son of Poseidon, Earthshaker and Stormbringer, Olympus’ Champion, any title you could imagine really, he was gone. 

Percy Jackson looked back at her. The little boy who had been forced into bad situation after bad situation over and over again. The one who always managed to come out victorious in everyone else’s eyes, but had lost everything in his own.

Was this the time to bring up Luke? How would he react? 

Annabeth pulled Percy into a hug, letting him tuck his face into her neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Annabeth would never understand how Percy still let himself trust so easily. If she were him and had been brought here, she was realistic enough to know she would’ve dug her own grave. That’s why Percy was the narrative’s chew toy. 

He was too loyal. He hated the gods, he hated the way they dropped him in a forest full of wolves and let him loose as a weapon, and he hated the way he won. But he would never stop because if he did, who would protect everyone? 

Annabeth wished she could be the same way. She wished her main goal was to care for others, but there was always that voice in her head begging for glory. She wanted to prove herself. Why did everyone around her get all of these miraculous changes for fame, but all she got was a dumb hat? Why did no one else seem to have the mind crushing self doubt that demanded her build up her pride enough to hide it? 

Annabeth wasn’t sure when the hug had turned into Percy comforting her, but he transitioned into it well. He clasped her hand in his and guided her out the door back to where they were staying. While it was technically against the rules, there was no one to enforce such things against a praetor. Not like Annabeth cared much about those rules, anyways. 

Percy sat down with her on the bed, holding her to his side for a bit. Then he stood up, muttering something about going to train. Annabeth was rarely impulsive even though it was characteristic of demigods. She was to strategic for that. She tended to get paralyzed through over-analyzing things more often. However, this was one of those rare times where something slipped past her filter before she could catch it. 

Annabeth’s mouth moved without any form of intent or expectation, “You’re acting like Luke.” 

Percy’s form was covered in shadow, but Annabeth saw him stop. He stood still for a moment before turning back to her. 

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Annabeth was absolutely furious. What did he mean by “I know?” Some part of her felt smug—she had been right, something was wrong with Percy. But the other part, the part that loved him and knew he loved her, told her she needed to help him. 

How can you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?

It’s not even that though, how do you help someone who doesn’t think they’re deserving as help? 

Because you can see in Percy’s eyes, he’s desperate for someone to reach out and take over for him. He wants to go back to baking with his mom and grades seeming like a huge problem. But he’ll never let anyone help for two reasons: he doesn’t think he deserves that help and he refuses to let anyone share his struggles. 

Annabeth didn’t often say it out loud because she knew Percy didn’t like it. He was fully convinced any praise was lies out of pity or manipulation. But he was smart, too smart for this to be some angsty teen thing. Something was pulling that string taut, but Percy would rather let that string snap than ask for someone to untie it from whatever was threatening to unravel him. He was analytical and a natural born leader, but he was impulsive and too caring. He wasn’t made for war. His heart couldn’t take death.

Sometimes Annabeth wanted to hide him away from the world. Whether it was selfish or out of worry for him, she didn’t know. She knew that she was closed off, and she definitely knew that once someone got through her walls she was attached to them. She’d lost too many people that she let in, and she didn’t want Percy to be the next. 

Watching Percy spar was the same as always, but Annabeth had background information now. He was fluid and he was merciless, like a riptide. It was easy to find yourself being lulled into whatever he wanted with his movements. 

But there was a dark shadow behind it now, one that took place in his second weapon. Backbiter was larger and heavier. Percy definitely knew he wasn’t alone, but he had also clearly given up on whatever he had been trying to hide from her. It’s not like Annabeth didn’t know he was using Backbiter(which was a shock and should’ve been one of her first major clues), he kept it strapped to his back at all times. 

In the day, he would only spar with Riptide. Annabeth had assumed it was mercy for the people he was training with, but now she saw it as guilt. Percy didn’t like using this sword. There was some serious misalignment with who he was and what he has become. 

He had lost his memory, just like Jason. But Jason had managed to become the same person he was before. Percy was in a battle to figure out who he really was, and Annabeth didn’t know how to help him with that. 

She hated the feeling of “not knowing.” It made her angrier than failing. Her hubris convinced her that somehow not knowing was worse than getting something wrong, because at least if you got it wrong you had some level of knowledge. 

But the longer time dragged on, the less she felt like she knew. 

She got her reputation as the cold, calculated strategist. She had never been great at school, but she was analytical enough to get by. When she got to Camp Half Blood, suddenly she fit in. She could read and she could learn and fuck if she didn’t devour books. She spent the first week here curled up with a book in between sparring lessons, determined to become an opponent people would be scared of. 

She gained that reputation through strategic decisions and perfected techniques. 

Then Percy showed up and flipped her world upside down. She had hated that trope in the books she read, the idiot with natural talent because they were the chosen one suddenly surpassing someone who had spent years training. That’s how she viewed Percy for a long time. 

But then she started talking to him, really talking to him. She paid attention and she realized her initial analysis was wrong. Percy had a shit ton of natural talent, but he worked for it. Within that natural talent there was intelligence. It wasn’t until after Luke’s death that Percy had shared with Annabeth that in the time before Luke revealed himself as the traitor, Percy would show up at the Hermes cabin late at night and beg for extra training sessions. 

Annabeth wondered what was going on in his head. She knew she heard Luke’s words sometimes, but their relationship had been different. She was close, but it was emotional and familial. There had been a time when Luke was her everything, and she was pretty sure Percy had felt that way about Luke as well. 

But something about Luke and Percy just clicked. Luke and Percy had that natural ingenuity when it came to fighting. They did things they just couldn’t replicate because that was what the moment had called for. 

The issue with the way they had clicked was that Annabeth could see some of Luke’s beliefs in Percy. He wasn’t nearly as radical, but she saw the disdain for the gods. Annabeth had plenty herself but she didn’t hold onto it the same way Percy and Luke did. 

But the one major difference was Luke’s anger at the gods was revenge. Maybe it had started out as wanting to help other demigods, but it morphed and distorted into pure hatred and a willingness to knock down anyone and anything in his path, including other demigods. 

Percy’s anger came from loyalty and empathy. He couldn’t understand how such powerful beings could be so cruel to their children. He hated them for their treatment of the demigods and mortals. He hated the way they would wave their hand and destroy a city as if there weren’t people there. Percy may tell himself otherwise(the nightmares make it clear) but he would never harm a demigod just because they got in his way. He would take every other path before resorting to harming someone. He was empathetic and kind and those things would never leave him. 

That is why Percy could never truly be Luke. 

If Annabeth’s fatal flaw was hubris and Percy’s was loyalty, Luke’s was rage. Unbridled rage that eventually spilled out of the pot and burned everyone. 

Percy was still fighting and Annabeth was still thinking. 

What was the source of her anger at the gods? She knew she contained it. She would see what they could and would do and it infuriated her, otherwise she could never have gotten along with Percy. But her anger wasn’t from loyalty. 

Her anger stemmed from her ambition(as many of her problems seemed to). Why did she not get her chance? Such mighty beings the gods are and Annabeth couldn’t even keep her boyfriend at her side after they fought in a literal war together. People died and betrayed others all around her, but it didn’t seem like everyone else could see it for what it is. 

It was human nature. Selfishness, love, ambition, they don’t seem that similar but they could quickly become one another. 

Was she a bad person for valuing her goals above most other things? She wouldn’t say so, no. The main reason for this was because she was capable of setting aside her own goals when she knew the situation called for it. She gained a reputation for having tunnel vision, but she really didn’t. 

Annabeth was strategic. Every move she made would benefit her in one way or another. As a child when she had first arrived at Camp Half Blood, she had spent a long time feeling horrible about that. She heard her stepmother and father’s words in her head, echoing as if they were still here. 

She wasn’t alone in that feeling, she knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t the only demigod who had grown up on the run, she found that in common with Leo. With Thalia. With Luke. 

She had learned to control her impulsive nature young—you had to be careful as a small girl on the streets. She stayed alone and kept her walls high; she knew what might happen if someone found her and convinced her to come with them. 

She fought the hunger and the pain and the exhaustion, all for what? To watch her friends and family die? To be betrayed over and over and over and over again?

Annabeth spared one final glance to Percy, still fighting. He would work till he was dead and then come back, and Annabeth knew she would have as well. It was often she wished she could be someone else. Stronger, faster, smarter, kinder. Percy seemed to embody those qualities and more. But in this moment, she could not find that wanting she had become so familiar with. 

In this moment, all she felt for Percy was sorrow. And a deep, foreboding anxiety that she had not felt in a long time.

When Annabeth woke up the next morning, Percy was not there. He must’ve come back at some point in the night because she found his sparring gear by the bed, but she doubted he had slept. 

She couldn’t find him at breakfast either. She had asked what felt like the entire camp and no one knew where he was(which did raise some panic amongst the Romans). 

Eventually she found him once lessons started. She had no clue where he had been before this, but she knew him well enough to say that no matter how upset he was, he would stay with the children. 

Percy seemed to know all twenty of the kids he was training by name. He sat at the back of the arena, resting on Backbiter as they sparred. It looked like he was doing little more than making sure no one cut a hand off, but that was only the surface level. 

His face was light and relaxed, but his eyes held an intensity. He was analyzing every kid out there, even if he didn’t realize it. 

Annabeth kept walking closer as she inspected them all. None of the children seemed to be anything special, clearly too young to even properly hold a weapon. She assumed most of them were legacies, as she had learned was common of Camp Jupiter. 

Percy didn’t seem to think the same. He smiled at them as the children shouted, offering advice and occasionally stepping in if he thought they needed some extra help. 

When he talked to the kids, his eyes seemed to take on a brighter color, leaving the stormy green they were. Over the years and many, many quests, Annabeth had learned Percy’s eyes were not in fact that sea green that seemed to be associated with him.

Most of the time they remained that color, but sometimes—especially when he was focused—they would shift to the color of the body of water closest to them. It was quite interesting. She was even sure if he knew it happened, because no one ever bother to say it. The change would probably be covered by the Mist(or at least the memory would be) for mortals, and for demigods and gods, the idea of eyes changing color was quite common. 

It just made Annabeth realize how much emotion led Percy, in all honesty. He was incredibly intelligent, but all surrounding that intelligence was seas of emotion. She would never understand how he lived like that or what went on in his head, but she would help him nonetheless. 

“Percy!” Annabeth called out, waving to him. Percy’s face didn’t betray the “fight” they had had the night before in the slightest. He smiled back, waving her over. 

“Say hi to Miss Annabeth everyone. If any of you want to fight with daggers, I recommend asking her for help. Smartest person in all the world, my Wise Girl.” Percy gave her a quick peck on the head and Annabeth laughed slightly at the groaning from the children. She didn’t have the privilege of getting to be disgusted by the idea of romantic relationships when she was their age.

It was easy to forget everything that had happened now that she was here with him. Percy seemed to have that calming effect on people, but the sword at his hip was a quick reminder that he was dangerous. 

Percy would’ve hated it if she had said it out loud, but he really was a son of the Sea. She had no clue how it had taken some people so long to figure out how his father was, honestly. 

Everything about Percy was reminiscent of the ocean. The way he fought, the way he lived. He also always smelled strongly of sea salt, which Annabeth had liked to tease him about when they were younger. 

“Are you ready for the Council Meeting after this?” Annabeth asked. At that moment, Annabeth saw his shield of joy flicker. The longer Annabeth had thought about it, the more she agreed with Percy. War was coming, and danger was around every corner. 

“There is no other option! What would you rather us do, wait for a primordial goddess to come to us? We have no defense that could stop her, and all of your sources just confirmed for us that the Gods are losing their power.” Percy argued. The Romans at the table all seemed annoyed and the Greeks looked like they were children in a disciplinary meeting. 

Annabeth wished Chiron was here. He would have had some cryptic advice that revealed itself to them at the last moment, but he would’ve said it in such a way that it soothed everyone. 

“So we go hunt down the ancient home of the Pantheon? It’s insanity! There are monsters there that have been hunting demigods since Hercules walked as a mortal. We’d be going in essentially blind, without a strong goal, and traveling to where monsters are the strongest. They would wipe out three demigods in a second.” One of the Senators argued. To pretty much everyone’s surprise, Jason spoke up in Percy’s defense,

“So we don’t send three. You said we don’t have a goal, right? I know how to get one.” 

The table went quiet. Sending more than three people on a quest? Annabeth had done that before and it didn’t turn out well. 

“The Gods will not communicate with us, Legatus Grace. The Temples of Lord Apollo and Lord Mercury have made that clear.” Octavian hissed, clearly smug that he could refute the ex-praetor. 

“You were not a part of the meeting Praetor Ramírez-Arellano, Praetor Jackson, Ambassador Chase, and I had yesterday. Praetor Jackson suggested we go straight to the source then, as well. The gods have cut of contact with us, but to take away all prophetical power, Lord Apollo would have to take it from his oracles, which we wouldn’t do. Instead of waiting for the gods’ help, maybe we take some early action.” Jason said with a very clear don’t argue with me you wimpy bitch tone in his voice. 

“Legatus Grace, with all due respect, most of the oracles have long been dead, and the ones who aren’t have shown themselves to not be strong allies of Camp Jupiter. I doubt we could convince them to help us.” A new senator said. They were small and mousy, clearly new to the position. Looked absolutely horrified to be speaking in front of the rest of the council.

“Well it’s a good thing you have more connections than just Camp Jupiter to rely on now, isn’t it?” Percy said, causing confusion amongst the table. Annabeth glanced at Percy and Jason, who seemed to be in silent agreement. Their solution was Rachel. Annabeth took this as her opportunity to speak. 

“At Camp Half Blood, the current channel of the Oracle of Delphi is a close friend of ours. We are at the calm before a great storm, and I truly think if we went back, she would be able to give us a prophecy. But to do so, it would mean opening communication back up between the camps. This is a big step, but I believe it to be the correct one. As an Ambassador from Camp Half Blood and a member of our council, I ask we take Praetor Jackson, Legatus Grace, and Legionnaires Zhang and Levesque.”

The Romans erupted into an outrage, each of their shouts egging on another Senator. 

“You can’t take our praetor!” 

“You’ve already taken one of them!” A chorus of “yeah” followed that one. A lot of rude comments about the legitimacy of Annabeth’s claims and insults to Camp Half Blood followed.

Percy stood up before Reyna could silence the table. 

“Hey! I would like to remind you any insults you make about Camp Half Blood are insults you are making about me as well, senators.Ambassador Chase is correct, and I have made my views incredibly clear about everything that has been brought up in this mission. We put it down to a vote. All in favor of sending a group to Camp Half Blood?” Percy asked. 

His own hand was raised, and Jason and Reyna’s soon followed. Piper and Leo raised their hands swell. Annabeth could not vote because she had been the one to propose it, but she could glare at Octavian, who prissily harrumphed and buried his hands in his lap. One senator raised their hand. That left three more people to vote, and one by one, they all raised their hands in favor. 

Being back at Camp Half Blood was like a breath of fresh air for Annabeth. She couldn’t even imagine how it must’ve felt for Percy. The moment they arrived, Percy was bombarded by people. Campers, Chiron, even Mr. D came over to greet him(though Mr. D’s relief was disguised by annoyance about “the trouble-maker returning”). And of course, all of the nature spirits came running, and according to Percy, the fish didn’t shut up until long past midnight. 

Most of that first night was spent settling in, which Annabeth had accounted for. For the first time in a long time, the bonfires didn’t feel empty and dull. The lake didn’t whip you with cold and bitterness. The stars seemed to shine brighter. 

As she stared at Percy’s smile, Annabeth marveled at how she had gotten so lucky. 

And then the next morning, she remembered. Through sacrifice and acting as the gods’ little chew toys. 

After breakfast, a council meeting was scheduled at the Big House. It was delayed by several hours after Percy got dragged into Capture the Flag, a rock wall race, and three different sparring challenges(all new campers who had only heard the stories about him, none of the kids who remembered him were willing to try, even when their friends tried to make them). Percy got second in the race, claiming that he had lost his touch, but it was pretty obvious that he had let the kid win.

Finally, Annabeth was able to drag Percy to the Big House and the rest of the Cabin Counselors were summoned. 

After everyone else walked in, a head of fiery red hair walked in. 

“I heard dooms-a-coming? What’s up, Perce?” Rachel said, clapping Percy on the shoulder. After so long as the oracle, her eyes seemed to have taken on that bright green that the Oracle of Delphi embodied. 

“Well let’s see if we can get a prophecy, eh?”  

Chapter Text

“So you’re really just going to…bully…a prophecy out of an ancient spirit?” Frank whispered to Percy from behind Annabeth. He made a noise that Annabeth interpreted as yeah kinda. 

“Hey it’s worth a try, isn't it. Lady’s been pretty talkative recently, as well. Whispers and that jazz, made me think the meds weren’t working anymore.” Rachel deadpanned. Jason stared at her in horror, unable to understand how the girl could still be so abrasive. Piper and Leo were off with the rest of the counselors trying to figure out how to prepare for an imminent war. 

“Rachel have you been taking your meds? I thought your dad—“ Percy started before being cut off. 

“I still have a reputation even without my dad, it’s not difficult to get them. Thanks for the concern though. Now,” Rachel said as she hopped onto the “Oracle Stool” which everyone had decided must be kept even though it was decades old. “How are we gonna do this?”  

Annabeth looked to everyone in the room, and everyone gestured for her to go up. What did they want her to do? Ask politely? 

“Oracle of Delphi, we, the leaders of Camp Jupiter and Camp Half Blood, humbly ask for a prophecy to aid us in the war against Gaia.” Annabeth said, cringing to herself at the way it echoed. She wanted to go die in a hole, this wasn’t going to work and Rachel would never let her live it down. 

Just then, Rachel began to convulse. She opened up her mouth, and the scratchy voice of the oracle answered. 

“I-“ Rachel began, 

“Don’t think it worked.” Rachel sat back up, an evil grin on her face. Percy groaned in annoyance, tossing a couch pillow at her. “Come on, I’ve been working on my impression for months, what better time to use it—“ Rachel’s laughter came to a stop, and she began to choke. Her head fell back on her shoulders, her hair wild around her head. 

“Very funny Rutabaga Dame, get on with it please.” Mr. D huffed, clearly tired of all these children messing around in his house. The Romans sent him an odd look about what he called Rachel, but everyone else was too used to it to notice. Percy had almost cried in relief after being called Peter Johnson for the first time in what felt like decades. 

Percy made an odd sound from behind her, diverting Annabeth’s focus just before Rachel’s eyes and mouth began to smoke. He looked like he was in pain, backing himself into a corner. Frank and Hazel had noticed as well, but were at a loss for words. Annabeth began to track back to him when Pythia spoke through Rachel, 

“Seven half bloods 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” 

With the end of the prophecy, Rachel fell back into Chiron’s arms. 

Annabeth had been distracted by the prophecy long enough to not notice that Percy now sat on the ground, covering his ears as if something was physically paining him. Frank and Hazel kneeled beside him, trying to coax him into telling them what had happened. Jason stood in the opposite corner of the room observing everything. 

Annabeth collapsed to the ground beside Hazel and Frank, carefully reaching out to Percy. His eyes were screwed tightly shut and his face contorted in fear and pain. When Annabeth’s hand made contact with his face, he flinched. 

After a few moments, something seemed to register in his mind, and the tenseness in his shoulders dissolved for a moment. 

“Sorry. That shit always fucks with my head really bad.” Percy muttered as he pulled himself off the floor.  He pushed past everyone around him, leaving the room without saying anything else. Or at least he planned to. 

“Hey. You can’t just have an episode like that and not tell us what happened Prae—Percy.” Jason corrected himself after, Annabeth assumed, remembering Roman titles held no power or respect here, and especially with Percy, only served to annoy. Jason looked like he was about to ask “are you okay” but Percy spoke before he could. 

“The fuck says I can’t? I’m going back to the sparring grounds, tell me when you need me.” Percy hissed, shoving Jason off him with more force than necessary. Jason’s fists closed and unclosed, as if weighing what his options would be after punching Percy. The rest of them sat back in shock. What the Hades was going on with him?

Before the rest of the room could exit it there shocked state, Annabeth marched out after him. Refusing help was one thing, but then being cruel and forceful with others? With allies and friends? No. He needed to get his shit together, because this wasn’t happening on Annabeth’s watch. 

“Perseus Jackson, haul your ass back here right fucking now!” Annabeth shouted, and in the distance she heard the outraged cries of owls and other night creatures. Percy’s tall figure had already covered a lot of distance which Annabeth was working overtime to cover. He came to a full stop, hand automatically reaching towards his pocket. She saw his right hand flinch towards his back where Backbiter usually was, as well. 

“What the actual fuck was that, Percy? We were all so concerned for you, and what did you go and—oomph!” Annabeth grunted as Percy’s chest slammed into her. Her angry scolding was cut off by his sobs and quiet mutter of apology. 

“Fuck, alright. Let’s go back to your cabin, but don’t think I’m forgetting this.” Annabeth sighed, wrapping his hand in hers. Percy refused to look her in the eye, but at this moment, he wasn’t raging or causing a tsunami, so Annabeth would accept it.

“Percy, you need to be completely honest with me. What has been going on with you? I’m worried and I-I don’t know what to do. We’re on the brink of a catastrophic war and I can’t even rely on you.” Annabeth felt a twinge of guilt at the low blow, but she needed to make Percy understand why she couldn’t keep doing this. Percy’s eyes were still red, but the tears had long stopped. She didn’t know if Percy was keeping himself from crying though. Was that something he could do? It seemed like a relatively simple skill. 

“Jason’s told you about the whole memory loss crap? You know the basics?” Percy asked, voice weak and hoarse. Annabeth nodded, handing him a box of tissues, more out of emotional support than an actual need for them. “I think-I, uh, I remembered more than him, unless he hasn’t told everyone.” Percy took in a shaky breath as Annabeth tried to understand what he was saying. 

“I remembered you. Obviously. How could I forget you?” He laughed to himself at that, but it was more of a breathy “it hurts to exist” laugh. “And I remembered a voice. I remembered your face, and that stupid, good for nothing voice. At first, it was just memories of conversations. It kept me alive more than once. And then he started talking to me. Actually talking. I thought I was going batshit crazy until I actually saw him, and then I tried to ignore him. Didn’t work. Of course it didn’t.” The rambles were almost enough for Annabeth to stop him, concern beginning to outweigh her need for answers. 

“Luke was always such a bitch, wasn’t he?” Percy breathed, and the moments the words were out, Annabeth’s entire soul felt deflated and empty. Oh. He was crazy, wasn't he? The guilt and the anger finally got to him. 

“Apparently Hades gave him like a plea deal or something if he went and harassed me. I hate the fucker but…” Percy trailed off and turned to Annabeth. 

“You knew Luke longer than I did. You knew him longer before he went maniac. The moment I found out, I was able to separate myself from him. I could tell myself that the kind actions he had made didn’t matter in the face of what he did. But you couldn’t. You believed in him through the end. So why did he come back to haunt my ass?” Annabeth began to hear the desperation and self-hatred in his voice and was tempted to stop him, but she let him continue. She had learned long ago sometimes emotions had to run their course and you couldn’t force them to stop through sheer will. 

“The gods can’t stop fucking with me. While he was here, at first I was angry. The fucking traitor, the blaring neon sign of what I couldn’t do. And then I let myself fall right back into because he felt bad. He tried to kill us. So. So. So many times. But he said sorry and I was just a scared kid again and someone was trying to support me for the first time. And now he’s gone and the guilt is all coming back and it’s like I can’t breathe.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Annabeth wasn’t sure how to reply or if he wanted her to. Did he truly think Luke had been there? Had Luke come back from the dead just to walk Percy through this? It wouldn’t have been the craziest thing the gods had done. 

But the biggest red flag right now was Percy felt guilty. What did he have to feel guilty for? Mourning a dead person? 

He was right, Percy had immediately switched up on Luke. He had shown nothing but contempt for Luke after finding out about that he had betrayed them. At least on the surface, apparently. 

Annabeth had been honestly shocked to learn Luke left his precious sword to Percy(how demigod wills worked she had no clue, she just knew that Percy left that sword in a corner for way too long content with hiding it away). She had been even more shocked that Percy had kept the sword. She thought it might, at absolute best, get tossed into the lake or the ocean. But no, he kept it hidden beneath his bed until the night Hera kidnapped him. 

She had always felt like she was the only person who felt as betrayed as she did. Even though he had his half siblings, he was her big brother. He taught her almost everything she knew about being a demigod. He was the reason she made it to Camp Half Blood(and Thalia, of course). 

But maybe she had just been more willing to deny it. Percy kept telling his story, and the more he did, the more Annabeth believed that Luke really had come back as a ghost or whatever he had done. The things Percy recounted and Luke’s attitude reminded her of the boy she had trusted and loved. 

The more Percy talked, the more Annabeth realized that he really had cared about Luke. 

Annabeth was willing to admit that she was horribly jealous of Percy and the way he grew up. She couldn’t even begin to imagine having the loving mother that Percy had grown up with. 

He had never talked much about his step-father, but Annabeth had sort of imagined him like her own step-mother. Listening to Percy actually open up to her about it was horrifying. 

The abuse Percy had gone through in his own home was on par with the beatings he had taken in the first week at Camp Half Blood.

And he had never talked about it. He just let it sit and build up inside of him until his only options were breaking down in the middle of the worst times ever? 

Annabeth couldn’t exactly say she didn’t do that. 

It stung deep in her soul to hear about the Luke that Annabeth had to forget. The one who cared. The one that had existed before his rage had twisted him into someone unrecognizable. 

Annabeth recognized that aching feeling in her heart as worry that Percy might turn out the same way. 

But in this moment, he wasn’t. In this moment, Percy was still just Percy. And for this night, it would stay that way.

And maybe tomorrow, they could actually figure out what to do. A Great Prophecy, a broken boyfriend, and impending war. No big deal.