AN: This won't be super long, but I've always found Annabeth's history with Luke interesting. This jumps right into the scene we got to see in a dream of Percy's where Annabeth helps Luke hold up the sky. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, bla bla bla etc.
Annabeth
"Please."
Of course I don't hesitate to rush forward as Luke's knees buckle. Suddenly I am face with a pain that shatters my very mind as the sky rests upon my shoulders. He was begging for help, abandoned by his fellow soldiers to bear this weight alone.
It all seemed so simple a few minutes ago. I blacked out in a battle against a manticore while rescuing half bloods at a military school. I woke up near the top of Mt. Tamalpais in San Francisco, hearing low moans above me. I saw Luke, crushed under funnel clouds meant for a Titan, and suddenly nothing mattered but saving him.
My bones split and my head explodes. I used to think doing fifty push-ups with a migraine was torture. Naive doesn't even begin to explain it. I kneel there for a century, though the sun that was already low never sets. Then I hear voices.
Through a haze of hurt I hear Luke telling a young girl he calls Artemis that I've been here for days, that she can either save me or leave me here to die. And then the sky is off of me.
Bliss is the best word I can think of. Relief certainly works to describe it, too, though even that's an understatement. When I can feel my body again, I'm aware of sturdy but gentle arms carrying me down the mountain. Luke's voice, softly caressing my ear that isn't leaning against his chest, mumbles, "I'm so sorry," over and over.
He's sorry?! Where were his apologies when he left camp to join the enemy without warning? Where was his "I'm sorry" when I sat alone in my cabin, wasting the days while I desperately held onto that last I-love-you he gave me before he disappeared past Half-blood Hill forever? And he could have at least offered a word of explanation for poisoning Thalia's tree last summer! Did "we're your family now" mean nothing to him? Were those kisses on New Years just for the experience? And why did he play with my feelings by developing a Morse Code-like system of thumps detectable by one of those handheld transmitters he stole from the Hephaestus cabin so we could talk anytime, anywhere?
Despite all of the ways he's hurt me, the most recent being this ploy with the sky, I feel a guilty pleasure from having his arms around me again. It's now that I realize, for the first time, I've never stopped loving this boy. I'm appalled at myself for having these emotions toward someone who's hurt me in more ways than I can count, but I might as well be honest. Before I can drown in pure pleasure, I regain enough sanity to remind myself of this: I am worth so much more than what he can give me. I must make the path to my heart as long and treacherous as possible through my willpower.
I must have blacked out while Luke was carrying me, because I suddenly wake up in a beautiful room. The bedsheets are silver silk with intricate gold images of the world's most famous architecture. Upholstery on couches and chairs throughout the room matches, and any wood in the room is a deep mahogany. The soft, rosy pink walls would not have been my first choice, but they bring out the other colors surprisingly well.
The most spectacular thing about this room is a gold spiral staircase leading up into a hole in the ceiling. And through it . . . massive bookshelves! I can't see the extent of it from where I lie, and sitting up makes my head spin.
When the world comes back into focus, I see a glass of nectar sitting on the bedside table and grasp it with trembling hands. I taste it and sigh, though not only from the physical bliss resonating through my body; the memories make my heart pound.
It was my first summer at Camp Half-Blood. I had only been there a week, so I still missed Thalia terribly. Since there were no kids my age at camp, I would sit reading under her tree for hours some days.
This hot afternoon, Luke came up and sat next to me with two glasses of lemonade. He held one out to me, and I grinned at the feel of perspiration on the ice cold glass. I knew he'd stolen it from that camp kitchens, but this hardly bothered me: Runaways are used to theft.
"For you, m'lady," Luke joked. I elbowed him.
"You know I'm not a princess, so don't call me lady!" I retorted. "I don't wear gowns and diamonds or rule people!"
"Your my princess," he said with a ruffle of my hair. We clinked our glasses and drank.
Never again have I found lemonade that tastes like Luke's. Only nectar satisfies my taste buds quite that way. I remember it being delicious, perfect. So very different from the years to come.
I down the too-small glass and feel well enough to walk. I stand and stretch, unsure of where to go. I see a door and walk through it. All there is is a plain bathroom. After using it and freshening up a bit, I walk over to the other door in my room. I'm starting to feel a little drained, but I can handle it.
When I open the door, a strange sight awaits me. In a dirty cruise ship hallway stands Nathan Hamson, a half-blood who went missing about six months ago and has evidently changed sides, and an empousa. When they see me they each grab one of my arms and escort me down a long hallway without a word of explanation.
Even my highly-developed brain is having trouble keeping up with these rapid changes. Nothing makes sense. Before I can give too much thought to my questions, however, we reach the end of the hallway. The door the empousa opens doesn't seem to extraordinary. That is, until I look inside.
It's an office. That may sound dumb, but this office is one of my own design. Futuristic, with dark red light shining through the translucent frosted glass which makes the walls. The desk is made of obsidian and the chair in front of it of stainless steel. The luxurious armchair behind the desk is made out of stark black leather. This room was designed to intimidate, and I wonder how Kronos's army got my design. I only ever showed that old sketchbook to one person, and . . . and I know whose office this is before he turns his chair around.
"Leave us," he commands in an authoritative voice. As Nathan and the empousa hurry to obey, he also says, this time to me, "Sit."
I sink down to the cold metal chair as the door clangs shut behind me. The blue eyes glaring out at me soften slightly, but I continue my facade of an emotionless face. All my former best friend has ever done is lie to and manipulate me, so I can't let my guard down.
"Welcome," says Conner Atchinson, a son of Aphrodite I once knew from camp. He was a nice guy, but he always had some feelings of resentment boiling underneath until the day he left to join the enemy. I jump at the sound of his voice, and Luke points to a speaker on the ceiling as acknowledgement of the words from nowhere.
"For the tourists," he says as Conner describes events that passengers can take part in throughout the day. "We're slowly getting rid of them, but the ones we still haven't . . . placed are securely under a thick veil of Mist."
I nod, my head spinning. I calculate my odds of both defeating Luke in a fight and making it off the ship alive, decide against the idea, and desperately search my brain for a strategy. I can talk myself out of this, I'm sure. I just have to play my cards right.
"Luke, why am I here?"
Okay, not exactly well-thought out words, but I need to know a little more about his intentions before I can try to gain the advantage. A smile teases the corner of his lips in response to my question, and I have an odd mixture of urges: to blush and to cringe.
"Annabeth," he eventually answers, "I'd like to apologize for the little incident with the sky. It wasn't the best plan, but I needed Artemis imprisoned. And, more importantly, I need you by my side. It was unforgivably selfish to go to such extremes, but I was desperate."
Luke needs me. The words hit me like a ton of bricks. It takes every ounce of self-control in me to remain stoic, to not rush into his arms and pledge my everlasting forgiveness. What's wrong with me? I thought I was so much stronger than this, but suddenly I find myself just as willing to leap back into his life without a second though as those prissy, materialistic girls I've always despised. I feel like the poster child for gender discrimination when I allow myself to become a plaything. I mean, he tricked me into crushing myself under the weight of the sky! In what universe should I trust him?
Luke continues, "Hear me out. I know I haven't been anywhere near what you deserve, but I'd like you to let me begin to make it up to you."
He looks at me for a reaction, but I remain rock hard. I will not be coerced this easily.
"Listen, Annabeth. Just pay attention for a minute. The gods are losing this war already. Kronos is closer to rising every day, and Atlas is already free and summoning other Titans. We have as many monsters as Tartarus can belch out, and minor gods and demigods alike continue to join our forces. You won't win, but I can offer a way out of being reduced to a prisoner of war, if you'll accept. Join me, Annabeth. I can make you the equivalent of a queen. Just join me."
I look through his eyes, into his mind the way only old friends can, but I can't read him. I can't accept whatever this trick is, right? I mean, the Titans are evil. Luke doesn't deserve another chance, whether I want to give him one or not. Even if Luke himself were worthy, I can't just turn my back on everything I care about.
Or maybe I can. Suddenly, in my mind's eye, I can see myself rebuilding the world how I want it, ridding humanity of its foulest traits and spattering the globe with monuments to last one thousand years. I could reconstruct a new world, bigger and brighter than the last.
I smile, and give Luke my answer.
.
Chiron
Chiron paces around the shooting range as he teaches archery to campers, going over the details of what Percy and Thalia had told him. Hunters here, two new demigods . . . Annabeth is missing.
"Marcus!"
The Apollo boy runs over, eager as ever to obey orders.
"Yes, sir!"
"I need you to run practice for awhile. I have much to do."
With that taken care of, Chiron gallops off to the strawberry fields. No one comes this way in the winter, so he can be alone with his thoughts for a bit. He gazes into the distance, toward the farms and woods of the mortal world. The serenity of nature helps clears his mind for a while, but after about ten minutes, someone behind him clears his throat. The teacher, assuming he will simply find a camper, turns calmly.
"Good morning, Chiron."
"L-luke?"
The centaur is rarely caught off guard, but the Iris message comes as a complete surprise. As he struggles to regain his composure, another shock hits him right in the face: Annabeth.
She stands right beside Luke with no restraints or guards. In fact, she looks content. Happy, even.
"What's the matter, you old horse, cat got your tongue?"
Annabeth laughs at Luke's jab. Chiron knows he should say something, anything, but he keeps looking at his little girl. Ever since she was seven, so much longer than the other half-bloods, Annabeth has been training and excelling. As a runaway, of course she's always been a year-rounder. The child has longed to lead a quest from day one, and only recently has Chiron been able to force himself to let her go into the outside world. And now she's been brainwashed. Chiron can blame only himself.
"You-you can't be serious!" the old teacher finally stutters. "What were you-when did you-why?"
When Annabeth remains unmoved by both Chiron's cracking voice and the tears forming in his eyes, Luke breaks the silence:
"You'll never win, Chiron," he says. "Annabeth saw our ranks and couldn't hesitate to join us. To join me. I just thought you deserved to know. Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll let you surrender now and save the lives of your precious campers."
"Never."
"Suit yourself. Just know that this was the last chance for you to avoid slaughter."
The two of them disappear. Chiron shuts his brain down, forces himself to remain emotionless the way he always has when heroes have died in the past. He will just have to readjust his battle plans, tell people-
Percy.
The centaur buckles over, nearly falling apart at the thought. The boy must know. Chiron can take him somewhere private after supper to tell him.
But first he should see the Hunters and Grover off on their quest.
.
Annabeth
Hurting Chiron sucked. No, it killed me. Seeing the way his face crumpled like a paper bag was like getting stabbed in the gut, but I couldn't risk letting Luke think I was disloyal.
So I went along with it, and now I'm just sitting in my room, too upset even to read. Did I really have to laugh at him? It was like I'd been possessed. Chiron would forgive me if only he'd known why, but telling him would have been far too risky. For now he and everyone else at camp will just have to think I'm as much of a monster as the Echidna below deck.
Maybe I am.