Percy Jackson stumbled out of the sky blue farmhouse, numbness creeping up from his fingers and toes, threatening to make him collapse. There were a few people walking past him, not truly noticing his discomfort, chatting quietly with their friends. Clarisse and Silena were still inside. Hero's soul... cursed blade. Oh, gods. Choking back bile, he moved towards the woods, under the pretense of looking for a monster to fight.
His blurred vision made the many branches harder to see, so by the time he was to the place his subconscious had told him to go, he was covered in scratches and more then a bit of blood. Zeus' Fist, the site of the Battle of the Labyrinth, the battle that still haunted so many half-bloods's nightmares, stood dimly lit under the evening sun. End his days. He braced himself against the obscure pile of rocks, every muscle shaking. He knew he was being watched. He was sure the many dryads and monsters that surrounded this clearing were wondering why the hero that was meant to save Olympus was having a seizure in the woods. But he hadn't expected her voice, so when it came he whirled, catching its owners throat with the edge of his sword.
It showed how much she trusted him that she hadn't drawn her blade and parried. He knew she could have. She was easily fast enough. Single choice. She didn't seem at all concerned about the wickedly sharp blade inches from her soft flesh. But his eyes did bother her. She flinched when she looked at the sea green that seemed to be boiling in turmoil.
"You've always known." It was meant to be an accusation and Annabeth was smart enough to take it as one. She hesitated, choosing carefully what she would say.
"I've always known the hero of the prophesy would die," she confirmed. The bluntness of her voice on the last word drove him mad. Against all odds.
"I don't understand," he didn't know how to finish. He took a breath to start again but gave up quickly.
"You don't understand the prophecy?" She questioned, trying to be gentle. Annabeth wasn't the best at gentle, but she did try. He shook his head adamantly.
"I understand the prophecy just fine thanks. It's spelled out pretty clear. What I don't get is why you would spend all these years, pretending it's going to be ok, when you know I'm going to die!" Anger boiled over. Riptide, which had been hanging limply at Percy's side, was suddenly flung threw the air, embedding itself several inches deep into one of the tree trunks.
"We thought it would just be better for everyone if... if they thought their hero would come back. And I... I was worried about you." She stared at the sword vibrating in the wood. Preserve or raze. He scoffed at her last sentence and she whipped her head at him. "You think that's funny?"
"I wouldn't if it were true." He replied coldly.
"You think I'm lying, Perseus? You don't think I worry? I worried every time I saw you get up to practice swordplay or archery. I worried at the end of every summer. I had nightmares constantly about this next week. I worried every time I talked to your mother about what I'll have to tell her after. I still feel cold every time I look at the ocean or every time I walk by the Poseidon cabin. Want to know pain, Perce? Imagine looking into the eyes of someone you love and knowing that after August 18th, you'll never see those eyes again. Want to know pain? Imagine designing the shroud for your best friend when he's still alive. Want to know strength, Percy? Never going to that best friend when you wake up in the middle of the night crying because you're going to miss him so much once he's gone, because you don't want him to be scared or worried about his impending death. I think you should be grateful that this is one burden I haven't let you take from me until now, Percy. And I'm so sorry you had to take it at all." She tried not to sound bitter, but the Fates had dealt this boy a cruel hand. And when Percy Jackson had a cruel hand, so did Annabeth Chase.
Through her rant, his cold, false humor had evaporated, leaving him defenseless. He tried to find something else to hide behind, to block him from staring into the face of death. Endless sleep. He chose anger.
"It doesn't matter for you, Annabeth! You aren't the one that is going to die on your 16th birthday!" He knew that was an illogical thing to say. She had already basically told him that he was her best friend, the she loved him, and that this caused her serious pain. But he needed something to shout, needed someone to accuse that couldn't blast him apart for it. But the momentary anger he had felt was gone in a second and now he just felt defeated and utterly wiped out, leaving him weakly sitting as Annabeth yelled at him.
"So that makes it easier? Instead I have to deal with you dying! It's not like I'm going to walk away from that battle and say 'Well, he's gone, let me go find a new best friend! Let me finally forget about stupid Percy Jackson! Let me find someone else to love!'It- "She stopped, all the anger she had felt at his words disintegrated as she watched him. With each sentence she had thrown at him he had flinched and his head had sunk lower in an attempt to hide the tears that had finally snapped from his green eyes and she couldn't take it anymore.
She crossed the clearing to Zeus' Fist, where he sat. They automatically moved to a position to comfort each other. His forehead was now on her shoulder, as she was standing and he was sitting, his hot, sea tears trickling down her collar bone while his ocean breeze breath slicked her neck. He clutched desperately at a fistful of her camp shirt, as if it was the only thing keeping him alive at that moment. The world. Her head rested on his jet black hair–she didn't let him know, but she was trying to memorize the exact shade, the exact way it curled and then straitened stubbornly at the end, except for that one lock above his right ear, the one that was gray, like hers. She would, after all, only have it for another few days–and she grabbed a fistful of it, brushed strands out of his face, and kissed the tangled mess that crowned his head. She didn't care if it was weird. She didn't care that they were surrounded by curious, giggling dryads. She just cared about the sobbing boy in front of her and the fact that soon, he wouldn't be there.
"I'm never going to forget you, Seaweed Brain. I'm never going to forget this. And I swear on the River Styx," cue thunder for effect. "That I will never stop missing you."
"I'm going to break my promise," he whispered back into her neck, his broken voice sending shivers down her spine and goose bumps down her arms. He raised his head, but not his eyes. Eldest gods. They didn't need an empathy link to understand each other. "I swore to never leave you like Luke did. During the Labyrinth, when you were... when you saw him. I never wanted you to be in that much pain again." Only now did green penetrate gray, deeper and in more turmoil then ever before. "And now the gods or the Fates or whoever are making me break an oath I made on the River Styx. How can they just do that? How can they just rip apart two people who had a life together? Annabeth, we could have had so much. And... and now I'm not even going to live to my Junior year of high school. Annabeth."
A conch horn sounded. Neither of them even flinched toward the sound. Neither of them wanted to go back, because neither knew how to pretend anymore. How do you plan for the day that you're going die? How do you prepare to go to a war that you'll never return from? Percy didn't know and, for once, Annabeth couldn't tell him. So they stayed, long passed curfew, with a sacred stillness over the place where their siblings and comrades had fallen that gave a quiet peace to their mourning.
A single choice shall end his days.