Author's Note: So... pretend that The Lost Hero does not exist. I started this before that came out. It's my own take on what happens concerning Rachel Dare's prophecy. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: All the creativity behind Percy Jackson and his story can be attributed to Rick Riordan. I do not take credit for the characters and anything found in Riordan's books.
Carrion
Chapter I - Divergence
Blinding light gave way to reality, and with one glance at the scene before him, Percy ran, Riptide in hand, knowing that his only chance of living would be to get the fuck out. That one blow to his head had nearly knocked him unconscious, but thankfully, his sight had come back and with that, the realization that he was screwed, big time.
The gods had been at war for almost a year now, but demi-gods like himself had abstained from action until recently. Rachel's first prophecy seemed to be coming true, although it had taken several years:
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.
Percy had yet to figure out who the seven half-bloods were, but it figured that he would end up one of them. This kind of shit just seemed to happen; in any case, not for one moment had he even hoped for some peace after the end of the last war. The rest of the details were also ambiguous, but the full-fledged god war was fairly indicative that the prophecy was well upon them.
While Olympus had remained peaceful for some time, naturally the gods grew restless. Ares, ever-hungry for war and power, had set things off, but it seemed inevitable that the peace time would not last in a place filled with such conflicting authority and ego. What was worse was that the war was now more destructive than god wars had been in the past; each god aimed for total control of Olympus. Gone were the days of a content—albeit at times unfriendly—acquiescence. Years had passed, the gods changed, sides shifted, and remnants of battles were apparent across the earth itself.
Until recently, Poseidon had been doing well—in fact, most of the gods had been holding their own, and the war seemed to be at a sort-of stalemate. Fragile alliances had been made, as always, but they were prone to tremble and shatter at a moment's notice should one side seem to falter. In one drastic turn of events, Ares had managed to capture Poseidon, and the war grew uglier still.
Percy wouldn't have it. The demi-gods, out of a certain sense of self-preservation, had at first opted to stay out, thinking the conflict would eventually resolve itself, and with the deadlock between powers, it seemed as though the only option would be to return to a mutual dislike and a mutual rule. Poseidon's capture changed everything. The gods saw that they could, in fact, overpower each other, and this brought everything and everyone—including the demi-gods—into question concerning their own fates.
In retrospect, charging Ares' prison—Alcatraz—that happened to be guarded by various creatures that could tear him to shreds had not been the smartest idea, but Percy was never one to sit back and watch while someone he cared about was in harm's way. However, the recklessness, this time, had been lacking of all rationality, and now Percy could acknowledge that this would cause more damage than good.
Hindsight wasn't always a good thing when you didn't have foresight to begin with.
Usually, he relied on Annabeth to be the rational one, but she wasn't around and there just wasn't time.
Percy yelled and dodged as several poisoned arrows came hurtling towards him. He felt them whistle past him, one narrowly missing his ear. Thankfully, the fact that Alcatraz was located on an island was of no hindrance; being the son of Poseidon, Percy could dive right in and be out of there.
There remained the small problem of actually reaching the water, of course.
In all his past fights, Percy was sure he'd never run so hard. Droplets of sweat slid down the sides of his tanned face from his forehead, his muscles searing with a burning exhaustion that he struggled to ignore as the water grew closer, closer still, I just need to get there…
…sweet, chilled relief as he crashed into the waves, gasping underneath the surf to catch his breath. The perks of being Poseidon's son seemed never-ending, and, mercifully, Ares did not control any underwater animals, so he was safe for the time being.
After swimming a good distance from the small, rocky island, Percy sunk to the ocean floor.
Poseidon was dead.
Percy didn't know how it had happened, or when, or why, but the sea-god was no longer a living, breathing, immortal soul. He'd been destroyed, something Percy had thought impossible for his father, a god. Apparently, it was possible. When he'd arrived at his father's cell, the body was cold, lifeless, un-breathing, and no matter how Percy shouted and prodded, drawing the attention of all inside to his intruding presence, the god of the seas gave no movement or acknowledgement. There had not been a heartbeat.
The weight of what he'd just witnessed came crashing down against Percy all at once, the way the waves would not, and when he cried out there was no sound.
Underwater, the silence was deafening.
As he shook¸ Percy wrapped his arms around himself as if to hold himself together. He'd lost the father he'd only just gotten to know a few years ago; 19 was too young to lose a father, especially one he'd believed would always be there. And what could he do now about the war? With Poseidon gone, there was no one on his side…he was a mere half-blood, with no real power against anything the gods possessed.
Alone. Honestly, Percy had never felt its existence so utterly until this moment. It choked him, his throat constricting around the two syllables until he felt like he was suffocating in his own element. Maybe he would. Maybe it wouldn't even matter. In the scheme of things, there was no difference that he could truly make. His youth had been full of assistance and luck, but he no longer held such liberties at his disposal.
As if a testament to the god's death, the entire sea shuddered once with Percy, and the emptiness became massive and oppressing at once. Percy knew he had to get out of there, had to forget, if only for a little while.
Shore approached fast as Percy swam with all speed towards it, his mind blank except for the simple desire to flee.
He might not be 21 yet, but his fake I.D. was intact and rather legitimate looking, and from his perspective, a nice hard drink was all Percy had to look forward to for the rest of his life.
Percy Jackson stumbled into the alleyway, clutching his side desperately to stop the blood that continued to flow through his fingers and out of his body. Thankfully he'd gotten away; ever since his attempted Alcatraz break-in, Ares' minions had been hunting him ceaselessly, and it had taken its toll, although in his opinion, attacking him at a bar, while he was drunk, was low. No matter; he was certainly sober now.
"…fuck," he muttered under his breath, pain stabbing across his abdomen with each dragging step. He knew he was good in a fight, especially after so many years of toning and training, but twenty of Ares' personal—and undead—soldiers was a bit much to take on by himself, and he recognized how goddamn lucky he was that he was, at least, fast.
Confident that he'd gotten rid of the majority and wounded the rest, Percy allowed himself to relax more as the distance between himself and where he'd left the soldiers grew, although these days he was always on his guard, even in sleep. Forced to move out of his apartment, he lived nomadically, squatting in various empty houses or even in enclosed, abandoned doorways. While forgoing a single place to live had been difficult at first, all of his money remained in the bank, so he was never short on food or necessities, and was saving money as he no longer had a rent to pay. Simple pleasures, he decided, and he'd take what he could get.
However, tough times fell upon all—humans, half-bloods, and gods alike. Unexplained weather turbulences had resulted in high-scale earthquakes, widespread forest fires, avalanches, dangerous thunderstorms, and while Poseidon still lived, tsunamis. The majority of people's coastal homes, both in the east and west, had been destroyed, entire villages had been wiped out by earthquakes in California and further south than America, forest fires ate away at ecosystems across North America, and Switzerland was all but covered in snow. Despite all of the "natural" wreckage, New York City had still received the brunt of it all, although the Empire State Building had—miraculously—avoided any damage at all.
Many humans regarded the devastating events as a sign of the apocalypse, and even from Percy's somewhat biased perspective, he could at least visualize how much more terrifying all of what had happened would appear to someone lacking any plausible explanation. As much as he wanted to, it wasn't like Percy could go marching up to the White House and demand an audience with the president to say that what was happening wasn't the end of the world or a drastic effect of global warming, no, it was actually the result of the gods' war. Yeah, those gods, the ancient Greek ones. Yep, it sounds ridiculous. Where are they? Well, usually they reside at the top of the Empire State Building—
As well as that might have gone, Percy wasn't keen on being locked up in an asylum for the rest of his life, so his only options were to either hope with all his might that the gods would figure it out and stop fighting—and destroying the world—or to take things into his own hands and stop the fighting himself. Really, it was an easy decision, and naturally he chose the option that almost one hundred percent guaranteed him a painful death at the wrath of the Most Holy Ones.
For not the first time, Percy found himself wishing he had some help. The start of the war had brought many things, most noticeably the absence of his friends. Annabeth Chase's mother, Athena, had forbid them from seeing each other, hinting rather unsubtly at an untimely demise for Percy should he try and break this limitation. He and Nico di Angelo had had a similar farewell, enforced by Hades, and the rest of his somewhat-friends (they were closer to friendly acquaintances) were directed by their parents-on-the-god-side in much the same manner. That left Rachel Dare, but as she was now the Oracle, she was too busy reciting prophecies and being mystical and vanishing all over the place to fight for the sake of the world with him.
There was just no way that he alone could make even the tiniest dent of a difference in the outcome of this war by himself, and as he was. He might be powerful compared to the other demi-gods and humans, but to the gods, he was practically a puppet, at least when they could find him. He found he was becoming increasingly skillful with his so-called evasive maneuvers (aka: run and hide), which at first had felt cowardly before he realized that he'd be a bloody idiot to try and fight. It was really just self preservation and common sense.
Percy hunched over, palms against his thighs to hold himself up as he caught his breath, shaking his shaggy dark hair from his eyes. This had to stop. He didn't even have a god to be affiliated with anymore now that his father had been killed, so he was even more screwed than he initially had been.
Abruptly, Percy stood up, staring blankly at the wall in front of him but deep in thought. If he was no longer affiliated with the sea god, wouldn't that make him a sort of…free agent? A grimace made its way onto his lips as he continued to ponder his predicament. He and the gods were not exactly on friendly terms, and he was sure some sort of deal would have to be made with the god of his choosing if he wanted any help; furthermore, one god was not enough. Several would have to gang up on the rest for there to be any chance, since none could conquer the rest…
…But that's not true, Percy thought bitterly, his eyes narrowing involuntarily. Da— Poseidon was overpowered. He refused to dwell upon what this might mean for him, and pushed the thoughts away to focus on his still profusely bleeding side. It would need some sort of aid, quickly, and he had no gauze or tourniquet, but he was too wary to venture back out onto the open streets yet. Thinking fast, Percy drew the hem of his shirt up to his teeth and tore off several long strips to wrap around his torso before pulling his dark navy shirt over his head and throwing it to the side, wincing only slightly as he bandaged the deep wound.
His makeshift bandage would be soaked through soon enough, though, and he needed shelter for the night; a scream sounded not too far off, and Percy swore again as he ignored the stabbing pain in his side and ran.
Despite his injury and growing exhaustion, Percy enjoyed running alongside the highway. There was something about it that made him feel alive, although he supposed that reasoning was not exactly sound. The waxing and waning rush of each car to pass, so fleeting yet thrumming with energy, the headlights casting bright light against the rain-washed, glistening pavement; he loved it, thrived amongst it. He knew he wouldn't quite feel the same if he was in one of the cars, either (though maybe if it was that goddamn beautiful black Aston Martin Vanquish he wanted so badly, the horsepower humming around him would surpass whatever he felt currently). He gave the people inside the commanding machines no thought; they couldn't see him, and if they happened to catch a glimpse, he would be just as fleeting to them as they were to him. Life, sped up.
Not fast-forwarded, though, Percy thought grimly; his side stung like a smack from Annabeth, and reminded him that however much of a different world the highway seemed, it wasn't, and he was still pretty fucked. An upcoming side road with a dimly-lit sign for a motel was his best option unless he wanted to run through the night and bleed to death. Hopefully there would be some sort of drug store nearby; if not, he supposed he could pay for the pillow case he'd use to staunch the bleeding some more.
As he turned down the road, he slowed to a walk, breathing deeply through his nose to try and regain a steady heartbeat; the adrenaline was still present and he could feel it with every quick thump of his sadly mortal heart. To be immortal…. Percy shook his head and grimaced, regretting not for the first time his decision to abstain from the god life back when he'd saved Olympus the last time. Immortality could have helped him, although he would have been made a minor god, and in such a war as this, he doubted he would have stood a chance. He wasn't sure what he would have even been made a god of. Not the sea, that had been Poseidon. God of stupidity, maybe.
After entering the dingy motel Percy walked to the front desk, raising an eyebrow at the large woman who was slumped in her chair, apparently asleep with a still-lit cigarette hanging from her lavishly painted lips. He cleared his throat rather loudly and the woman stirred, cracking one eye open lazily before slowly sitting up, grunting at the evident effort.
"How can I help you." Her voice was deep and sneering, unattractive as a whole, and she eyed Percy, shirtless as he was, as though he were a piece of meat. He rubbed his arm, uncomfortable.
"I'd like a room…?" Duh.
"For how long." She phrased each question like an exasperated statement, as if she had anything better to do. It annoyed Percy, and he sighed loudly enough for her to hear his impatience.
"Just tonight. Also, do you know of any nearby drug stores that I could reach on foot?"
"That'll be a hundred and twenty dollars, flat rate. An included breakfast is ten more. There's one just a ways down this road, not more than a mile." Her facial expression remained as one smelling something unpleasant, and Percy tried to avoid rolling his eyes. Over one hundred, to sleep in this piece of shit? That was pushing it, and he was more than sure he didn't want to taste its food, but it was his only option. He handed over his Visa with some distaste, assuring her he'd find his own breakfast, that he had to be gone early, and thanked her unnecessarily as she handed him his room key and credit card. Pocketing both, he turned instead towards the entrance; he needed some pain medication if he wanted any sleep at all, and the way his eyes were starting to droop, sleep was seriously called for.
The drug store seemed to be the only other tangible building along the road, so it was easy to spot from far away. An ancient, wrinkled Asian man who stood stooped behind the counter was the only other person in the small store, as was expected. He was in The Middle Of Fucking Nowhere, New York, and he didn't much like it, but at least he wouldn't be bothered by gangs or, hopefully, anyone else of the god-like sort. He perused the drink aisle first, choosing an Arnold Palmer before finding the medicine. Regretfully, he picked up Advil and Tylenol, wishing fervently that he could have some Vicodin or Oxycodone instead. He grabbed gauze and an ace bandage, then cursed himself mentally for chucking his shirt; he'd have to wait until he found a legitimate store the next day. Shaking his head as though he were almost amazed at his own stupidity—almost, because really, he'd accepted the fact that things like this were bound to happen frequently—he made his way to the counter to pay.
Several things happened at once; as Percy put his money on the counter, the fat lady from the hotel burst into the store, shaking the entire doorframe, her blubber wobbling with her body as she attempted to catch her breath. At the same time, the Asian man behind the counter had drawn a sharp, jagged knife.
The sight was a little startling, but Percy was used to extremely dubious events involving him, so he took several steps back from the Asian man, placed his hand on Riptide, and looked back and forth between the woman and the man.
"What the fuck?" was all that he could think to say.
Without saying a word, the woman turned on the Asian man and punched him square in the nose, at which point he disappeared in a cloud of dust that smelled vaguely of sushi.
"Perseus Jackson," the woman rumbled in her low, unattractive drawl.
"That's my name…" Percy said, smiling uneasily as he unconsciously took another step backwards, knocking into a row of candy, scattering it across the linoleum floor.
"You're in trouble," was the flat response.
Percy, still slightly unnerved, nodded slowly and raised an eyebrow. "I'm well aware, thanks. What…who are you?"
"A certain Rachel Dare sent me…" the woman paused, letting this sink in; Percy assumed that she knew how frustrating it was that that was all she could tell him. Instead of asking the most obvious question, though, he ended up blurting: "She knows you?"
Rolled eyes were the first response. "Yes, she knows me. She got me out of quite a pickle some time ago involving four satyrs, a banana and… well, anyway, I owed her a favor, so here I am."
Percy was rather thankful that she'd been disinclined to elaborate on the situation from which Rachel had rescued her. "Alright…so…why'd she send you then?" He asked expectantly.
"She gave me a message to deliver to you. Firstly, she sends her condolences for your father's death."
Percy looked away and cleared his throat, indicating for the woman to move on, as she'd gone silent after this first point.
"Now to the more important things," she said somewhat inconsiderately. "Apparently Zeus and Athena are in the midst of striking some sort of bargain that will put them on the same side, so you must hurry to counter this and convince as many gods as you can—" she eyed him skeptically "—to join together under your direction or hope will be lost. She also says that while you may hate him, Ares is strong and will be your biggest asset, so 'suck it up and be a man.'" Percy scowled at this. "Lastly…she says there may be a way to bring your father back, and to find Nico should you desire such a thing, but to be careful in your dealings with the god of the dead or you may find yourself bound in ways you do not wish to be."
A heavy silence hung in the humid hair as Percy processed this information, briefly storing Rachel's knowledge of the war's goings-on in the back of his mind so he could focus on the more significant topic of his father. To bring him back…there was no other course of action possible. It had to be done. He would do anything, that much he was sure of.
The cleared throat startled Percy out of his dazed thoughts and he blinked at the woman.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my hotel…you will be staying the night, still, I assume. Also, you might want to pick up a shirt…" she walked behind the counter and retrieved the Asian man's tee-shirt, which had been on the ground with the rest of his clothes, then handed it to him. "Here." She proceeded to walk out the door.
After a stunned moment, Percy yelled out a delayed thanks after her and hastily examined the store for anything more he could find that he may want before heading out and following.
Back in his hotel room—which was no nicer than the lobby had been, although Percy supposed he could admire the consistency—he tore into a Poptart after having bandaged his wound and slumped across his bed on his back, feeling as though he were in shock. It was possible to bring his father back? The knowledge made his heart swell in hope and sorrow simultaneously. The woman had said to find Nico…that most likely meant striking a deal with Hades, naturally, and that could never be good, but as he continued to turn the thought over in his mind, Percy became increasingly sure that no matter the cost, he would be a good son and save Poseidon from an eternity in the Underworld, the last place the god of the sea belonged; the only way to restore order would require Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, united.
But things right now….they did not look good. Zeus and Athena's alliance was both surprising and unnerving, and Percy knew his first course of action would require a visit to see Ares, to whom he was at the top of the Most Wanted list. Fantastic. Not entirely sure of where to find him, Percy supposed he'd just have to return to Alcatraz and make a scene and hope with all his heart that they'd rather capture him alive than dead. His chances were not good, but there was really no alternative, and he had to act right away to ensure that Zeus and Athena didn't annihilate all chances of recovery on the part of the rest of the gods. The whole situation was a shitfuck, honestly, and Percy did not like one bit of it. Especially the fact that now, Annabeth and Thalia were on one side and he was left on the other, still distanced from the two people he cared most about (excluding Grover and Tyson, but the two of them had been so absent from his life lately—he hadn't spoken to either in over eight months—that he tended to think less and less about them).
"Holy shit," Percy groaned before rolling over onto his face and tugging at his hair. He briefly considered, as his eyes started to droop and his exhaustion set in, making a plan of entrance for when he showed up at Alcatraz, but figured he didn't really need one and within ten minutes was sleeping like the dead.
Coffee, Percy blearily thought as he opened his eyes to a loud, painful rapping on his skull that just would not go away. He was sure it wasn't a hangover, either, since he'd sobered up long before he'd fallen asleep. With some effort he made a swatting movement with his hand and the knocking ceased. Huh.
"Hey. Seaweed brain."
That voice sounded familiar. So did that name, although he didn't much like it unless it was said by Annabe—
Percy sat straight up and found himself face to face with the daughter of Athena, who was leaning over him by the side of his bed. "Annabeth! Wha…what are you doing here?"
"Waking you up, obviously," she said with a small smirk, running a hand through her long blonde hair that seemed to have acquired even more of a golden sheen since the last time Percy had seen her. The streak of gray was still there, though, reminding him of Annabeth's sacrifice and his own vow to never let such a thing happen to her again.
Percy stood slowly, almost cautiously; it had been a while, and gods, how he'd missed her. They were standing so close they were almost touching, now, and Percy reached to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear before throwing caution to the winds and sliding his hands around her waist, finally drawing her to him in a way he'd been dying to for months. His mind was blank save for endless thoughts of her, and he pressed his forehead to hers, refusing to close his eyes because her face was so much more beautiful here, even, than in his memory.
"Annabeth…" he whispered, his breath hot against her lips and he felt her tremble like she always would in moments like this, a subtle reminder to him of the effect he had on her.
She lifted a hand to his face, not bothering to close her own eyes as she drew his mouth to her own and fuck, it was so much better than all the times he'd imagined it. When his eyes finally shut he was lost in the touch and the taste; the way her tongue would playfully circle his, the way her fingers would clench in his hair when he bit her lip, the way this came so easily to them even after such irrevocable distance. It was perfection, and try as he might to sustain himself otherwise, Percy couldn't get enough.
"Would you two get a room? …Well, I guess you're in one, but come on Annabeth, we did not come here for…this."
Percy and Annabeth broke apart immediately at the voiced disgust sounding from the opposite side of the room; sure enough, there was Thalia, arms crossed, leaning against the wall somewhat arrogantly. Percy ignored the heat rising in his cheeks and turned towards his other friend, patting his hair down from where Annabeth had tugged it in every which way and asked, "What did you come for, then?"
"We came to warn you, and to tell you that you better make the smart decision and join us especially since your dad is…otherwise occupied down under." Thalia was clearly not in a good mood.
Annabeth gave Thalia a look before taking Percy's hand and squeezing it briefly, turning back to him as she added, "You must have heard that Zeus and Athena have made a deal. The rest of the gods don't have a chance. You really should swear allegiance to Zeus to ensure your own safety. I heard you and Tyson, as Poseidon's children, are up for grabs, and I just…I don't want anything to happen to you."
Percy was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly at Annabeth's words. "You mean you're okay with this? You're just going to allow Zeus and Athena to take over? Not what you'd call a fair fight. And what, has Thalia just abandoned Artemis? Can she do that?"
"In times of crisis like this, yes, as Zeus is my father and naturally has final say. Percy, don't be pigheaded. Seaweed-headed. Whatever. Anyways, someone has to come out on top and hell if it's not going to be us." That was Thalia. Percy ignored her and glared at Annabeth instead.
"She's right," Annabeth said, disregarding Percy's expression and giving him an exasperated look. "You're being ridiculous. There is no other way to end this war."
Taking a step back, Percy drew his hand from Annabeth's, shaking his head. "No. No. Olympus is not supposed to be ruled by whichever god comes out on top. In your case, gods. It's supposed to be equal. There is a better way, the right way, to end this war, and I thought you, Annabeth, would have been above this. Thalia, I'm really not that surprised, but even you have to have a conscience. Since when did you want to be dictator? That's what it'll be like, you know. The end doesn't justify the means."
"Fuck you, Percy. If you want to let the world be destroyed by this war, suit yourself, but I'm not going to be a coward by standing around and watching it happen," Thalia spat before turning and exiting the room.
"Coward my ass," he muttered before turning to Annabeth. "…Annabeth…you can't agree with her, you're smarter than this." Percy's head was spinning. Of all the people in the world, he was sure Annabeth would have backed him on this, would have done anything to ensure the restoration of Olympus to its previous glory, not some mutual dictatorship between two gods who were greedy. Annabeth was the moral one. Annabeth was the wise one. This was crazy. Nuts. He couldn't wrap his head around it. And he was angry at himself for hoping that he wouldn't have to do this alone, but all he could do now was try harder and prove that in the end, it was better to choose the right way than the easy way.
Annabeth sighed and started to turn to leave, her eyes sad but decided. "I'm sorry Percy. It's the only thing we can do. I'd try to persuade you some more but I know how stubborn you are. I—I love you. You're being stupid. Just remember you can always change your mind."
Percy stared after her as she left the room, his shock fading into more anger. This was so wrong. Thalia and Annabeth had undoubtedly been corrupted by their respective parents, but that didn't mean he was or had to be (barring the fact that his father wasn't available to corrupt him). As had so often happened in the past, Percy was taking the most difficult path, and he'd never before backed down in the face of a challenge.
Annabeth sighed noisily and slumped into the nearest seat, which happened to be an oddly-shaped rock, her head dropping to her hands as she bit her lip and fought back those wicked tears that were always threatening to fall these days.
"Oh, Annabeth, come on," Thalia grumbled, pacing back and forth as the two waited for an audience with Athena and Zeus in some mystical garden located behind the Niagara Falls in Canada. "It's just…just Percy! Just this stupid guy. He doesn't matter. Think of the world. They all need us. We're doing the right thing. Percy's brain is as diluted with salt water and fish as I think he has the capacity for but you know he'll come around. If he's as crazy over you as you seem to be for him, that'll be enough to send him running for you."
However, Annabeth shook her head, as she lifted it and looked up at the cloudless evening sky, blinking away the moisture. "I don't think so, Thal. Things are different now anyway. Ever since my mother—" Annabeth paused and glanced around before continuing: "—forbid us from seeing each other, our relations have gotten worse, little by little…goddamn stupid rule, she knows how I feel about him, and maybe even better knows how he feels, and…aauurgh!" Annabeth let out a sound of defeated exasperation. "I hate her sometimes. I swear it's a fucking power trip for her! That's the only reason she chooses t—"
"Yes, darling? You mentioned me?"
Annabeth closed her eyes and steeled herself momentarily before plastering the biggest, most fake grin she could muster across her face and turning to look right into the eyes of her mother, the goddess Athena.
"Of course. I was merely making Thalia suffer through hearing all of your amazing qualities for the hundredth time."
Athena was not amused. "I will not take such lip from my inferior, especially if she is my daughter. I expected better poise from you, Annabeth." Disappointment was etched across the goddess' face, and despite the fact that her angry accusations had been true, and she believed them, she felt shame flood her cheeks at her mothers' stern tone.
"Am I not allowed a moment's anger or frustration?" she muttered, picking at a piece of skin by one of her finger nails until it bled; it had become a habit in recent times.
Athena ignored this, and after a second's pause, Zeus appeared next to her, looking collected and dazzling in the gold armor he frequented. "You know something greater is stirring beneath the façade of the gods'…disagreements."
Lightly put, Annabeth thought as she raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Maybe. You don't know anything for certain," Thalia admitted, eyeing her father skeptically, although there was curiosity hidden there, too.
"No, we do not. However, it is wisest for the three strongest gods to align; with Poseidon gone, that makes me next. We have not yet succeeded in…convincing Hades, but we are working on it. You two should learn not to question those smarter and more knowledgeable than you," Athena replied.
"And stronger," Zeus added.
"Whatever," Thalia rolled her eyes. "We've already agreed to help you. What is it you want? You clearly had some reason to meet with us."
"Yes, yes. Hades has refused to allow any god, minor or otherwise, into his realm. He's being more stubborn than usual, and frankly, it is getting on my last nerve. As neither Zeus nor I will be able to bring him under co—onto our side…we require mortals to speak with and persuade him."
Annabeth bit her lip, hard, to stay the onslaught of curses that threatened to erupt. Didn't she have enough to worry about, what with her attempts to gain the allegiance of Camp Half Blood and the minor gods? Now, she had to tackle Hades? Gods…she hated the Underworld. She suppressed a shiver.
Thalia glanced at Annabeth, noticed her almost-anemic color and the angry flush to her cheeks, and quickly answered, "Fine, fine, we'll get it done. Be gone with you now."
Zeus gave his daughter a stern look but he and Athena acquiesced and with a nod, both vanished into the mist.
The minute the gods were departed, Thalia turned to Annabeth and gave her a look of apology, sighing almost inaudibly.
"I didn't sign up for this," Annabeth murmured, her steely gray eyes far away.
"Yeah. I know. I'll handle it, if you want."
But at this, Annabeth's eyes lit up, again, and her lips pressed into a thin line before she ran a hand through her hair and said, her tone exasperated but definitive, "No. You're not going to do my work. I've never backed down from anything, and I won't start here, not where I'm most needed." She gave Thalia a grim smile. "Time to take a trip to visit our dear old uncle of the dead."
