A/N: Technically, this is a fusion with the October Daye books (with some liberties). It can still be treated as a Faerie AU.
Too many ideas, not enough time, so this'll stay as a crapped and unedited one-shot for now.
In the theme of the beloved series, the title is a Shakespeare reference.
Title: boundless as the sea
Disclaimer: Pretty obvious that I'm a stressed (and mildly depressed) college student rather than a published author.
Word Count: 1K
Summary: Annabeth's life gets more complicated when an amnesiac (and non-human) client stumbles into her life. Faerie AU.
The pixies were interested in Annabeth's groceries again.
As a Knight for her local duchy, Lightning's Path, it would be poor form if her food were stolen by a swarm of pesky creatures. The small creatures buzzed near as she walked down the street to reach her apartment. A few brave ones would come closer, trying to steal strands of Annabeth's blonde curls – the golden hue of them diluted by her illusion that she had woven earlier. It had also blunted her pointed ears, colored her gray eyes, and softened her features, making her less likely to cause chaos at Safeway.
Annabeth suddenly winced in pain. A nearby pixie laughed, appearing in her peripheral vision. He was proudly waving his homemade spear that had a few strands of her hair wrapped around it.
And then he aimed the spear at her. The tip of it was wet with poisons. It was nothing actually fatal, but enough to give her a bad rash for a week depending on what they were able to brew with their limited resources.
Annabeth sighed. She shifted her groceries to one arm, and pushed her hair back with her free arm. She released the illusion, the air smelling like lemongrass and old books from her magic. The pixie balked at the touch of her magic, now knowing that his target wasn't human. The sight of her pale, pale gray eyes and unnaturally sharp facial features made him drop his spear, and whistle to the others to start flying away.
In series of sharp whistles and bells, the swam rose above Annabeth's head and flew off somewhere. But pixies had poor memories, she tiredly knew, they would be back again next week.
And the week after that, and the week after that...
The San Francisco fog rolled down the sidewalk she was walking. Annabeth pulled her hood up and started moving faster. She was too tired to cast the illusion again, and dawn was coming soon. She cursed her busy schedule that had forced her to go shopping at odd hours. If she had stayed in that grocery aisle any longer, then there would have been a problem with accidentally exposing Faerie to the human world.
After all, there was a reason why so many fairy tales spoke about the power of magic couldn't handle that kind of intensity; it would weaken and fall apart, revealing the truth to humans everywhere. The Pureblood Fey, the ones without human blood, could handle daylight. Their abilities and blood were strong enough that they could mingle with unknowing mortals without the fear of their pointed ears or inhuman-colored eyes showing.
Changelings had everything to fear. The illusions would shatter like broken glass, and then the pain that would rise as dawn fully arrived…
Faerie could be cruel, every changeling child knew; but so could humans with their fire and iron.
And Annabeth had the scars to prove it.
The fog thickened in parts where the streetlights turned off. The weakening moonlight caught the fading streaks of pixie glitter in the air. Not enough to bewilder mortals, seeing as how the sidewalks in certain parts of the city had actual glitter embedded in the concrete.
She made herself walk faster, her heart wildly beating in her chest as she caught sight of her apartment door.
One step—more lights turning off—another step—the dull roar of cars and humans in the background—one more—
But there was a stranger at her door who wasn't wearing any illusions His eyes were a color that had the same shade and intensity as the sea: blues and greens moved almost hypnotically. His tanned features were good enough for him to start a career as a successful model, but the web of skin that bridged a knuckle on each finger together proved that it would be challenging for any equal rights law to fight for.
"What are you doing out here?" Annabeth snapped. "It's almost dawn!"
He tilted his head to the side, his unusual eyes going wide. "Woah, your hair—"
Reluctantly with the coming of dawn prickling at her skin, she wiped her wards away with a sharp cut of her free hand. Her door slammed open, and Annabeth pushed him to enter with her despite his protests.
The door closed behind them just in time for dawn to fully come. It burned through the early morning fog that was outside her door, and she felt the full effect while the stranger stumbled away from her. The air filled with the scent of dead magic, it was ashes and forgotten dreams. Annabeth was leaning against the wall, gasping as her groceries fell to her tiled floor. The exhaustion and pain crashed over her like a wave.
She hated sunrise.
Finally catching her breath, she was aware again of the stranger in her blinked a few times, and the man was gaping openly at her. "What?" she asked, annoyance edging her voice. He was Pureblood, obviously seeing how he wasn't doubling over in pain like she was. "Never seen a changeling go through sunrise before?"
But he still stared at her. "Are you like me?" He walked up to her, clearly apprehensive with his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
"Sweet Maeve," muttered Annabeth. "What's wrong with you?" A faerie that knew nothing about the dangers of sunrise, shock of seeing a changeling handle dawn, and now this? "Do you even know your name?"
"No?"
This was going to be a long day.
Annabeth crouched down and started to pick up the fallen fruit and boxes of cereal."You're either bullshitting me, or you've been hit with a nasty curse." She looked up and tossed him an apple. "How did you know where to find me?"
He caught the apple, his expression stunned by the show of his own reflexes. "This is going to sound weird, but a fish told me that you know how to handle unusual problems." He shrugged. "Can't get anything more unusual than waking up in an abandoned alley with no memories." He took a large bite out of his apple, not caring that it had touched the floor.
Annabeth wanted to tear her hair out. This wasn't fair. She'd been working on cases non-stop that entire week, and all she wanted at that moment was sleep and a good book. "Do you even know where you are?" She set her groceries down on her counter."And don't say 'your apartment'."
He snorted. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he said, "In a magical land far, far away. San Francisco because I saw a trolley on the way here."
"Welcome to the city, then. I'm Annabeth Chase, daughter of the Gray-Eyed Faerie." She offered her hand. "Because that means nothing to you, let me add that you're in the Kingdom of Blood Hill, which is a good portion of this city. I'm a knight who can help you, and that's why you were told to come here."
His smile was crooked in an almost adorable way. He took her hand and shook it, his skin felt dry with the faintest prickle of magic. "I'm weird amnesiac guy who can talk to fish."
"You're really going to need a nickname." Annabeth stifled a yawn. She was going to have to hold off sleep for the next few hours. A faerie with possible attachments to an unknown kingdom was a dangerous thing to have around.
And the best word to describe the King of Blood Hill was 'bloodthirsty'. He could consider anyone and anything to be a threat, and Octavian wasn't much to listen to reason once he had his favorite knife out. He was well known all throughout California for his ruthless nature.
Because of this, Annabeth drew her iron knife out from her thigh sheath.
He dropped his half-eaten apple. "Um," he said.
"Don't worry, I just need to read your blood so that I'll know what you are." Annabeth let her magic rise—the faint taste of lemongrass and old books filled her mouth. Her mother was known as one of the greatest blood-workers in Faerie. According to reputation and history, that was how Athena gathered the best of her battle strategies, from reading the blood of her enemies.
Blood couldn't lie. It was the bare truth, their heritage, their memories, even their magic.
And Annabeth knew how to access it.
He reluctantly stepped closer to her and held his hand out, wincing as she made a well-practice slash in his palm from her knife. Red blood started to pool, and Annabeth brought his hand to her mouth to drink.
Sea salt and—my feet skidding over the wet road, rain coming down in apocalyptic sheets. "Mama!" I shout. "Mama! Where are you!" Storm clouds gather above my smell of ozone and copper is thick in the air. The memory breaks up with the taste of sea salt and something else. Annabeth focused her magic to search for more of the kaleidoscope of fragmented memories covered in shades of red—a different magic bends and contorts my legs. Water crashes up to my neck, the sea spray stings my skin—burning, everything is burning and I can no longer scream—then the taste of his magic suddenly shifted to something bitter and rotten and wrong
A curse.
The world slowly turned back into focus around Annabeth as her knees buckled. Her kitchen filled with daylight and the ghost of her own magic. The man—Perseus—had an arm around her to help keep her standing. She knew from his memories how it felt to have those muscles cut through waves, to balance a glowing bronze sword in one hand and bring down the power of the ocean with the other.
But that couldn't be right. His first few memories were that of a Changeling boy.
Perseus. She tasted his name, his pure blood dripped from her chin. Merrow, one of the sea fae, but he'd been part human once. That was all she knew. The rest was tainted by a powerful curse that had gone straight to his magic.
He was still a danger.
Hell, he was in danger.
She wiped his blood from her chin and stared at it. It was corrupted. "Something is rotten in the state of California," she muttered.