Annabeth in Wonderland
Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole
Pairing: Annabeth/Reyna
Summary: Annabeth falls down a rabbit hole. But if she's honest, the rest is a little blurry. Reality, dreams, and terrible nightmares blur together leaving her confused as to which way is up and which way is down.
A.N: Yeah, I got this idea in July and I finally got around to writing it. I hope that you enjoy this odd, whimsical brainchild of mine, though I do warn you, it gets significantly darker in the other two chapters. Yes, this is three chapters and THEY ARE ALL WRITTEN NO NEED TO WORRY ABOUT ME NOT POSTING THEM! I'm going to post one a week for the next three weeks. On Friday. The Friday is Reynabeth in Wonderland day now.
Enjoy, my friends.
Disclaimer: I do not own pjo or hoo. I don't own Lewis Carol's Alice in Wonderland. I do not own this lyric from C'mon by Panic! at the Disco featuring fun. I do not own the two quotes lifted verbatim from pjo and from Alice in Wonderland. I own my laptop, the pepsi that I am currently drinking and I own this fic but this fic is worth no money and I am receiving no financial gain from it. Thank you, now enjoy.
Feels like I am falling down a rabbit hole
Falling for forever, wonderfully wandering alone
Annabeth remembers falling. If she's honest, though, the rest is a little blurry. She remembers tumbling through the air, laws of gravity be damned, and landing in this strange little room. Before that she remembers wandering into the woods, and tripping, falling into an infinite rabbit hole. It seems cozy, like a hobbit hole, but also mysterious and a little bit sinister. The floor has been covered in wood, yet tree roots peak through the dark, brown, earthen, walls. Sunlight shines down from the hole so far above her and she looks around the room. There is a small hole at the bottom of one of the walls, and a small, wooden table sits in the corner. On top of the table sit two vials of neon-colored liquids. They both have white, sticky labels with bold, black print. While one says "grow" the other says "shrink".
Annabeth surveys the room and sighs. The only exits are the one above her and the mouse hole, neither of which are plausible for her use. Annabeth feels uncomfortable, for some reason she feels like she always has a plan, and this feeling of uncertainty makes her very uncomfortable. She considers her two other options- drinking either of the vials. Now, if Annabeth were to drink the grow vial, she might grow too large for the hole and get stuck, which would be altogether unpleasant. Annabeth considers the consequences of shrinking to the size of a mouse, assuming that is what would happen if she were to drink the purplish pink liquid. She might shrink smaller than she intends, which would certainly be a downside. She may also get eaten by something larger than she is wherever this door may lead her, but anything seems preferable to dying of starvation in this hole. She picks up the magenta vial and gulps it down all at once.
It tastes odd, like strawberries and cookies, cheese and grass. It's an entirely terrible taste, and when she comes back to herself, she realizes that she is very, very small, much smaller than a mouse. How curious. Across the room, which suddenly seems a great hall as opposed to a small room, she sees light peeking out of the small door. She walks towards it and hopes to god that a bird of prey doesn't await her on the other side.
Annabeth steps into the sunlight, and is greeted by blades of grass taller than she. She pushes her way through them, like some sort of jungle explorer in uncharted territory. She puts her hands to her sides, wishing in vain that her little blue dress had pockets. The sun shines brightly down on Annabeth's skin while cotton ball clouds float across the sky. She hums a gentle and jovial song of which she only vaguely remembers the melody and walks further and further into the meadow.
After what seems like an eternity of walking, Annabeth is covered in shadows as the high above trees obstruct the sun's rays. She is now starting to walk through the woods, and she hears the cries of various different animals: a bird, a cat, and something that she can't quite identify. She pushes away the slight fear and heads deeper and deeper into the interesting forest.
She comes to a clearing, with a small pond, a puddle really, that seems like a vast ocean to the now tiny Annabeth. Across the way, she sees an enormous, blue water-beetle sitting on a large mushroom like a throne. At the bottom of the mushroom grow many smaller mushrooms of two differing colors: pink and blue. Annabeth took a few steps closer to the fungi throne.
"Who are you," the water beetle says, an accusation as opposed to a question.
"Who are you?" Annabeth demands in response. As a general rule, she is fairly certain she doesn't allow herself to be bossed about by insects.
"Who is anyone?" the caterpillar asks, rhetorically, "It's all about perception. I think that I am a water-beetle caught on the crossroads of Wonderland. Who are you?"
"Why, I'm Annabeth," she says, quite confused by the direction this conversation was heading.
"And what does that mean?" asks the beetle.
"It means, why it means that I'm me," Annabeth huffs in exasperation.
"What does that mean?" asks the insect, fiddling with its own fingers, or whatever the caterpillar equivalent may be, "what composes one's self? Their personality traits? Their body? Their likes and dislikes? Their memories? Do you remember anything, Annabeth?"
"I remember falling down a rabbit hole," she replies firmly, "and I remember getting here."
The beetle sends her a devious smile, "I suppose you aren't anyone at all, then."
"I am," Annabeth says, a ball of fiery rage building in the pit of her stomach, "I'm Annabeth. I'm a person, a damned important one as well. I'm simply a bit confused. I've changed sizes you see, and that can be a bit disorienting."
"You're in the right place, then," the water-beetle replies off handedly, "these mushrooms will change your size."
"Really?" Annabeth asks, her face lighting up.
"Why, yes," he says, "but I don't think changing sizes will tell you who you are."
"I know who I am!" Annabeth shouts in exasperation, "just leave me alone."
"Never," he says, his green eyes twinkling like he'd just unveiled some incredible secret. She found herself fighting an odd urge to call the creature an odd name.
She feels a sudden touch of sadness, as if the beetle had reminded her of someone she once knew, but tells him, "Go away, unless you care to start being reasonable."
"Fine," he says, somehow managing to sound wistful, "goodbye, Annabeth. And remember." He crawls off the mushroom and away from her. For a moment, she thanks her stars that she has gotten rid of him and his stupid, cryptic comments, until she remembers that she doesn't know which mushrooms are which. She feels like kicking herself for being so stupid. She looks to the mushrooms, blue and pink, and considers which one she should try. She decides on the pink, and plucks a head-sized pink mushroom from the pile. She takes a small bite, and shoots skyward. Within moments, she is her normal size, but she shoots beyond that, stopping when her height is even with the trees. She lets out a frustrated groan and sits down on the ground, trying to survey for the mushrooms, but she doesn't find them. They're too small, or she's too big. If nothing else, Annabeth has a more accurate view of perspective after having been all these different sizes.
She clutches the mushroom tighter, and takes a guess. She pops the now tiny mushroom into her mouth, hoping for the best. A few moments later, she is once again her correct size, and she almost sings with joy. She no longer has to worry about stray birds carting her off as a tasty snack. She lets out a sigh of relief and walks deeper into the slightly ominous and other-worldly forest.
Annabeth walks through the woods. She feels more confident in herself since having returned to her normal size. The trees seem fairly normal, deciduous, all around the same size. It seems odd for such a fantastical place to have such average trees with such mundane foliage, but Annabeth supposes that sizing-changing mushrooms are strange enough vegetation to compensate. The girl hears small twigs snap underneath her shoes as she treads the slightly worn path between the trees. She begins to think of the strange things that she has seen, and how any of it can be possible.
Before Annabeth has even completed her first thought, she sees something strange on the horizon. A lone figure stands in the shadows. She considers turning back, but her curiosity gets the better of her. Plus, her pride would be broken if she turned back because of a single figure. That's cowardly, and she's fairly certain that though she is a lot of things, a coward isn't one of them. She wishes that her memories weren't so foggy, but continues walking towards the figure anyway. Maybe he could give her directions, she is terribly lost.
When she's a little closer, Annabeth realizes that the figure is in fact a young boy. He seems small, maybe ten to twelve. He's clothed in black, in contrast to his snow colored skin. He tilts his head towards her and smiles a small smile. His black eyes, like shattered glass stare back at her.
"Who are you?" Annabeth asks, refusing to be beat to the question this time.
"Isn't that a question," he muses, a hint of humor reaching his eyes, "I suppose I'm an echo."
Annabeth groans, "Why don't any of you people make any sense?"
He looks at her seriously, "That's the thing about memories and dreams; they never happen in the right order. Especially when you mix the two together, that's nasty business. The inconsistency of a dream mixed with the vague feelings of a memory. That'll leave you wondering which way is up and which is down. I suppose you're experiencing one hell of a mindfuck right now. An echo isn't too much different, I suppose. It gets distorted on the way back. Never quite the way it was when you left it."
"I repeat," she says, "you people make no sense what-so-ever." She tries to analyze the boy's words, but they're so scattered and nonsensical that she gives up her attempt.
"We're all mad here," he says with a small grin, as if sharing an inside joke with himself.
"Except the queen, of course," he amends, "but she's borderline. Though, she might cross that threshold any day now. She's been threatening to behead people left and right." She takes a moment to compose herself and make sure that she doesn't kill the annoying boy who could possibly be her only hope of finding her way.
"I'm a bit lost," she says, though her irritation spills through into her tone, "do you know which way I should go?"
"That depends on where you want to go to," he says, "destination is key."
"I don't know where I want to go," she says, "I don't understand where I am."
"You'll still be lost wherever I send you," he says nonchalantly, "You'll just be lost there."
"It's better than being lost here," she says, "at least it would be different."
"Different, you say?" he replies, "I know the perfect place for you. He points his hand to the right.
"Go right for a few miles," he says, "you can't miss it."
"Thank you," she forces out, though the boy had been more a hindrance than a help. He sends her a small smile, and his body starts to fade into the shadows, until only the whites of his eyes and his broken irises remained.
Annabeth walks further through the timberland, time blurring together along with the scene. Shortly later, she arrives in a small clearing. In the middle sits a table, covered by a white table cloth, chairs. Two people sit in said chairs. A gorgeous girl with tanned skin in a large, purple top hat holds a teacup while another boy with curly, black, hair and black rabbit's ears pours a strange looking pop into her cup.
"Erm," Annabeth says, "hello." The girl turns to her and Annabeth gets a slightly different view of her hat. On the base sits a small sheet of paper that reads 10/6.
"Hello," the girl replies in a cheerful tone, "go ahead. Take a seat." There are many open chairs at the vast table, and Annabeth sits down on one right beside the girl.
"Would you like some pop?" the girl asks, gesturing to the table. Various two liter bottles of all sorts of soda pops litter the table, along with teacups, pieces of popcorn, and discarded candy-bar wrappers.
"Pepsi, please," Annabeth says. She grabs a cookie from the table and sets in on her plate. The girl plucks in off and Annabeth glares at her in response. The girl just grins, her polychromatic eyes twinkling.
"All out of that," the boy replies.
"Coke?" asks Annabeth. Surely they have Coke, she thinks.
"Nope," says the girl.
"Doctor Pepper?" she asks. The boy shakes his head.
"Mountain Dew?" she asks. The girl shakes her head.
"Root beer?" she asks in a last ditch effort.
"None," says the girl.
"What do you have?" she asks.
"Every flavor," the boy replies, a grin spanning his face.
"Then why did you make me list them all? Annabeth asks in irritation.
"No," the boy said, "all the flavors are mixed together."
"I'm afraid I'll have to pass," she says.
"Are you certain?' the girl asks, a mad grin on her face, "it's like an explosion of flavor in your mouth, feeling everything in the world at once." She pours Annabeth a teacup of soda anyway.
"I think I quite like to keep things separate," she says, "can't be happy and sad at the same time."
"But that's exactly what you are now," the girl replies, a serious look on her face. For a moment, Annabeth thinks that she might not be quite so mad after all. Then, she spoils everything.
"Frank," she shouts, "we have a guest!" A small, brown mouse stirs inside of the mad girl's teacup and then waves at her.
"Y-y-you have a mouse," Annabeth says, in a state of shock, though honestly she shouldn't be shocked by anything at this point, "a mouse. In your teacup."
"He's not really a mouse," the mad hatted girl says in response, "Frank's only sometimes a mouse."
"Then what is he normally," Annabeth asks.
"Frank can be whatever he wants to be," the girl replies as if that were actually an answer to Annabeth's question.
"What time is it, anyway," Annabeth asks, suddenly quite curious as to how much time she might have spent in this mad world.
"Nine in the afternoon," the rabbit-eared boy says immediately.
"What? There's no such time," Annabeth says in confusion.
The girl turns to Annabeth, "Of course there's such a time. It is right now."
Annabeth glares at her and then the boy chimes in.
"It's always nine in the afternoon," says Leo, "that's what happens when you piss off time-he'll set you up in a loop. Can't get out of it 'cause it didn't exist beforehand."
"That's actually kind of sad," Annabeth replies.
Piper replies "It's not so bad, really, If I could write time myself, I wouldn't have it any differently. My best friends, pop, chocolate- I could do with a few more visitors, though. You're terribly dull."
Annabeth glares at her, "Did you just call me boring?"
"Yes," Piper says, "you haven't said an interesting thing since you got here. It's not your fault, you just aren't mad enough. You're still grounded in reality, and that's ever so boring. It's just so mundane."
"You're calling me boring?" Annabeth huffs, "I'll have you know," and the exciting exploits Annabeth was going to name faded from her brain. Her memories were all befuddled and she couldn't remember the thing she was going to say in the first place.
"I could out mad you," Annabeth says.
"No you couldn't," the girl replies, her multicolored eyes sparkling, a nice contrast against the purple eye make-up, "no one can out mad a hatter."
Annabeth starts to reply, "I don't think-"
"Then don't talk," Leo said, laughing. Piper laughs as well, patting him on the back. Annabeth glares at them, and then grabs her teacup.
"Fine," she says, "I certainly can't out mad you, but that's not a bad thing. Enjoy your day." She pours the mixture of various pops onto the tablecloth as she stalks away from the mad company.
She exits the clearing in a frustrated huff and reenters the forestland in the hopes of finding some sort of sense. Instead of sense, though, she once again finds the shadow boy. He pops out of the shadow of a tree.
"Hello, again," he says and Annabeth nearly hops out of her skin.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack," she says, "you just materialized out of nowhere."
"Not nowhere, per say" he says, "I had to have been somewhere, it just wasn't a somewhere you knew about."
He is still the same insufferable boy he was the last time that she had met him.
"Is there a reason you jumped out at me?" she demands.
"The queen demands you come see her," he says, "you've been causing quite a ruckus: changing sizes, squashing poor creatures underfoot, and ruining a very important tea party."
"I didn't ruin anything," Annabeth mutters, "and what do you mean the queen wants to see me?"
"The queen of hearts," he says, "ruler of Wonderland, she's taken quite an interest in you. She finds you curious."
"How do I find her?" she asks, "I don't understand how anything works in this godforsaken place." She's not even sure that she wants to find her, what, with all this beheading nonsense.
"A passageway will open from this tree to the palace," he says, "good luck, Annabeth." He fades to black. A staircase opens from the tree, and she steps inside. Annabeth forgets to wonder how he knew her name.