A/N: So the ending of Mark Of Athena has the inexplicable ability to render me into a mess. I honestly don't know how this story happened; it was only supposed to be like 2000 words long, but whatever. WHOOPSIES.
Anyways, I do not own PJO or the HOO series. I'm just metaphorically playing dress-up in Rick Riordan's metaphorical closet. Also, I apologize for any spelling errors or gramatical mistakes... I wrote this monster fairly quickly.
P.S.: The cover art belongs to the amazingly talented ~burdge-bug. Her drawings make my feels die.
EDIT: I fixed this a little bit, made it flow a bit better and fixed a few spelling and gramatical mistakes. Thank you to Sophie for informing my of my tense errors and unintentional minigaps, and to all of my other reviewers: my two guest reviewers, Andromeda Luna, Haruno Kasumi, WonderlandJunkie, The Percabeth Stories, emblah01 (also, thanks for all the favourites, they made my day), and TeAmLeO.56 (p.s. thanks for the virtual cookie :P).
Hope you enjoy! xx
/
They say love conquers all, but right now in the pits of Tartarus… Annabeth wasn't so sure.
She'd faced monsters at the age of seven with only a mortal hammer. She'd rescued her friends from an evil and cannibalistic Cyclops' lair. She'd just faced Arachne, who was essentially her worst fear, with a broken ankle and she still had never been as scared as she was now.
She didn't want to go into what she'd seen but the flashbacks came anyways, quick starbursts of fractured images that splintered into a kaleidoscope behind her eyes. Tortured souls, screaming and writhing in agony as they begged for mercy; blood, and lots of it, sometimes pooling into large, sickening crimson puddles. The laughs, cold as ice and bone-chilling. The kind of laughs that promised pain and blood, one that meant no one was safe.
The barrage of images kept replaying, faster and more forcefully than before. Annabeth could do nothing but just sit there, clasping her hands over her ears and burrowing further into Percy's chest as if that would stop the pain. There was no noise around her except for the sound of her own dry sobs, the kind that sounded like you were slowly drowning and choking on nothing at the same time. Percy's arms tightened around her, one of his hands smoothing down her tangled, bloodstained mass of curls in a way that would probably have been reassuring if not for the fact that he was shaking just as hard as she was. Without even looking up, she knew she wasn't the only one crying. But unlike her, Percy cried silently, barely making a sound. He cried the kind of crying that one cries when the pain is too deep to even make a sound, the kind of pain that never lets you go and tightens your chest until you can barely even breathe.
In her mind Annabeth saw them. She'd taken to calling her friends and family 'them' because it didn't hurt as much, and it'd become an unspoken agreement between her and Percy not to. But she saw them anyways, and whether she called them her friends or them or ThaliaGroverNicoPiperJasonLeoHazelFrankMalcolmChir onClarisseTravisConnorChrisWillSallyPaulMyMomMyDad MyStepmomMatthewBobby when she saw every single one of them pleading and begging and crying as they lay mutilated and bloody on the ground. They all were there, small explosions of visions that wouldn't go away, with knives cutting into their flash and hacking off their limbs, or being killed in dozens of gruesome ways. Every moment she closed her eyes she saw it all in flashbacks that just wouldn't stop and left her whimpering and crying and sometime screaming.
She tried, and they both tried and tried and tried to keep going on, to keep focusing on Epirus and ending the war and getting back safely. But every day it just got worse, like a battle she wasn't even winning, only just making it through each day. But the bad side kept advancing, pushing them both farther and farther back into the point of no return until she didn't know how much longer they could take it.
But most of all, she saw that one day. That one stretch of time where she could feel herself crumbling down into ashes, when she could feel herself slowly dying just a little bit more. The gash was still there on Percy's chest and she put her hand across it, feeling it with feather-light touches of the calloused pads of her fingers because it reminded her that he was still alive, and to her that was still a little bit of hope. But she saw that moment every day and that one flashback knew how to break her more than anything else, that one time when she just couldn't get there fast enough and she couldn't do anything but just watch as the Chimera sunk its claws into his chest.
And for once in Annabeth's life, she wondered if they could get out of this. She wondered if they should just give up.
And as she and Percy finally got up, holding onto each other for support as they walked/limped farther and farther into the literal pits of hell with the sinister laughter of the evil spirits trailing them, for once in her life Annabeth felt like she knew what it was like to go insane.
/
Annabeth had managed to keep holding onto Percy's hand the whole way down, clutching onto it for dear life. Around halfway down her fingers had almost slipped from his, but she clawed at his wrist and held on.
"I've lost you once!" She yelled over the wind howling in her ears. "And I'm not going to lose you again, Percy!"
Percy, as determined as she was to not let the other go, switches his hold from her hand to around her wrist. Annabeth copied him and did the same, curling her own fingers around his (albeit much larger) wrist in a way she was sure would leave marks later.
The drop was painful. Everything around them reeked of evil, from the way the air whistled to the ominous whispering around them. Somewhere around halfway they conceded to their fear and just held onto each other tight, Annabeth with her hands locked tight around his neck and Percy with his arms looped around her waist in a tight, bone crushing hug, and their legs tangled together in a beautiful mess as both of them took great, sob-like breaths and tried to calm themselves down for the other's sake.
"We can do this, Annabeth," Percy vowed, looking up at her and meeting her steely-gray gaze with his own sea green one. "We'll make it out of here, Annabeth, I swear on the River Styx I'll get us out of here."
But this only reminded her of the prophecy, and even in her panic-filled mind, this struck deep. The line of the Prophecy echoed unsaid around the suffocating chamber. Don't make promises you might not be able to keep, Percy, she thought miserably.
/
Monsters. Monsters were everywhere.
Monsters were in her brain, weaving poisonous thoughts into her once level-headed brain. It'd only been a few days (a week at most) but monsters were seeping into her, showing her things… things she didn't want to see.
Beside her, Percy was gaunt, hollow-looking. His eyes were sunken in his pale face, and he had a gash across his cheek. Near his hairline, the left side of his face was wet with clotting blood that matted his dark hair into a sticky mess. His shoulders were slumped over in the form of someone defeated, and he limped slightly when he walked, slightly unsteady on his feet and so tired, so bone-dead tired he could fall down if it weren't for the fact that they could both be killed if they didn't keep on movingmovingmoving.
They'd done a damage check less than an hour ago. Percy: two broken ribs, a gash across his chest, claw marks on his back, and a wonky knee. Her: a broken ankle, a gash across her cheek, the scabs and a broken rib from the Arachne incident, and claw marks on her shoulder.
But Annabeth knew herself that the brunt of his injuries weren't physical. The worst things in life weren't, after all. That old mortal saying, the one that went like sticks and stones can break my bones but names can never hurt me? Yeah, that should have been something a lot more like swords and claws can break my bones but the flashbacks can make me want to kill myself.
Because the emotional pain was always the worst.
Percy was the one who tried the hardest to be strong. Not for himself; she knew that if he was alone he would have been a lot more defeated-looking, a lot freer with his true feelings. But Percy—stupid, noble Percy—was born to be a leader, and it was clear that he wanted to be strong for her although he was just as broken as she was, and maybe even more.
Sometimes Annabeth would pretend that they weren't in there, the place they were stuck. They never talked about it, never said the name. She could sometimes pretend that they were just in the desert, on a quest, that Camp Half-Blood was just a few hours away, and that their friends were on their way. But then Percy would turn to look at her and her eyes would meet his, and she'd see those green eyes of his that she'd fallen in love with. Those green eyes that had once sparkled with a zest that she'd never seen before in her life and had captivated her the moment she's seen them.
Those green eyes whose orbs now resembled something a lot more like shattered sea glass than anything else.
/
It probably wasn't a good sign of how things would end up when Annabeth landed right on her bad ankle.
She couldn't tell how long they'd been falling. The Greek poet Hesiod had apparently said that it took nine days and nine nights for a hammer to fall from Earth to Tartarus, but as long as the drop was, it couldn't have been more than an hour or two.
But finally they saw the ground, which managed to be even worse than the fall. The place was hell, alright. It was a wasteland, even for a desert. There were sparse weeds, but not many and most of them probably weren't edible, at least not for them. A mile or two away was a small pond of water that managed to look as evil as any of the creatures in view, dark and mysterious. The area had to be at least several hundred miles across and almost as much widthwise, but there were several monsters in view. And unfortunately, most of them had already fixated on them.
Annabeth looked around, scrutinizing her surroundings. There was a Cyclops (it reminded her painfully of Tyson and his SPQR bib/toga and she felt sad that she'd have to fight it), a Sphinx, several Dracanae, and a few Empousa. Fresh meat, she knew, was probably sparse in Tartarus. And she and Percy probably seemed like a readily-delivered snack to them.
She was right. The moment that they landed, the monsters ran for them. And unfortunately for Annabeth, she landed on her ankle, sending a fresh wave of white hot pain spasming throughout her leg. Before her battle instincts could kick in she shrieked, attracting the attention of all the other monsters in the vicinity that hadn't noticed them before and probably alerted a few more nearby, and that one, tiny millisecond was all it took. Annabeth crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain and making Percy turn around to check on her. And without him noticing one of the Dracanae was lunging for him.
"PERCY!" She screamed, her eyes widening imperceptivity as hoped and prayed to every god/goddess she could think of that they'd be okay. "LOOK OUT!"
She looked around quickly, her grey eyes darting around the wasteland as she looked around quickly, analyzing the situation in less than a second. One Dracanae within swiping distance of Percy, and the other Dracanae and the two Empousas about ten yards behind. The Cyclops was about a quarter mile out and the Sphinx about a hundred yards.
The only upside to the situation was that her dagger was only a few yards away, within easy reach, along with her backpack and Daedalus's laptop.
As she turned back to Percy, her breath caught in her throat and everything just went in slow motion, like one of those action movies. The Dracanae was closer, a yard or two away. Except this was real life, and there was a real Dracanae advancing on real Percy, who was really about to get slashed to pieces by the Dracanae's real nails and Annabeth really felt like she couldn't breathe.
Thank the gods. Percy's battle instincts had kicked in and his head had snapped around, immediately weaving off to the side and diving to the ground. He got off with a mere scratch. Annabeth let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she struggled to get up and fight. Her ankle would be okay; she still had the makeshift cast on, so she'd be fine for a bit. But right now it was Percy, jumping back to his feet and uncapping Riptide like the fighter he was, who needed a little bit more help than she did.
One step, two steps, three steps. Annabeth bent down quickly, her fingers closing comfortably around the cool bronze metal of her dagger as she straightened up into a fighting stance and twirled around, trying to ignore the pain in her right foot, and caught an Empousa straight across the chest. She exploded into a shower of sulfurous yellow powder.
One down, about five million more to go.
/
Annabeth's hands were sticky from blood as she pressed her shirt onto Percy's chest. Blood, so much blood. It was overwhelming how much blood there was. Every single spurt set a fresh wave of panic through her head until all she could think was please please please please, not Percy. Not Percy. Poseidon, Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Ares, Dionysus, Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, Hestia, anyone. Please. PLEASE.
She knew her panic was counter-productive but at the same time, she couldn't stop it. It crept into her mind and invaded every single corner, poisoning things once innocent and carefree. It was a symptom of Tartarus, she thinks, the panic and this almost schizophrenia.
She could see the scene playing out in her mind. They were in the same cave as they were now, just resting a bit. Annabeth currently was healing from a nasty scrape just above her right eyebrow and him a broken rib, but they'd been in the cave frequently, just holding each other, arms locked tight and trying to escape the flashbacks.
But then Percy had tensed, and sat up straight with an effort that looked like it was painful.
He walked quickly to the edge of the cave, his form barely silhouetted in the dim light of the cave. The only thing Annabeth could see somewhat clearly was his gorgeous green eyes, but they'd grown duller and duller by the day. Almost like they were dead.
They were halfway to Epirus. For their troubles, it'd only been about a week and half. They were making fairly good time for demigods so broken down and battered. The only good thing that had happened was that Annabeth's ankle had almost fully healed by then.
Percy crouched down and peered through the small hole they'd crawled through to get into the cave, and then quickly straightened up again and turned around to look at her.
"There's a monster outside," he said lowly, the tone of his voice barely reaching her as he reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out Riptide. It looked like every single movement pained him. "I'll go take care of it."
He was trying to sound confident, but Annabeth had known him for long enough to know that when he tightened his jaw until the muscle jumped, he was scared. He moved over to her then, and framed her face with his calloused hands. For one tiny second he smiled, his eyes roaming over her face like they were trying to memorize every single contour, and then he bent down and kissed her.
His lips were the only familiar thing to her now. Annabeth could get lost in them, and she almost did get lost in the kiss, and the way he kissed her, softly and sweetly but at the same time with an almost bruising desperation that said 'this might be the last time I ever kiss you'.
He pulled away slowly and brushed one of her matted curls off her face with a hushed 'I love you' before he got to his feet and turned to slip out of the doorway.
Suddenly there was this feeling. Annabeth couldn't describe it for all of the words in the world, but what she did know was that she'd felt it before… and that was on Williamsburg bridge, right when Percy was about to get stabbed in his Achilles spot.
Fear stabbed her worse than any knife could. She grabbed her dagger and scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could and ran to the door, slipping out of the hole in the cave wall.
Annabeth studied her surroundings. She couldn't see anything, but whatever Percy had felt, she felt it too. There was definitely something nearby, and something big. This wasn't an Empousa or a Dracanae or something more easily handled. This would be a tougher fight than that.
Percy was in the middle of the clearing, slowly moving and walking around. Riptide glinted bronze in his hand as his eyes searched for the monster.
Annabeth saw it before he did. He was walking to the north, away from the cave… and unfortunately for him, closer to the Chimera that waited for him in the sparse bushes.
Percy stopped mid-step. He could sense the monster nearby, but he hadn't located it yet like she had.
The Chimera was coiling its back legs, tensing to spring like she'd seen regular dogs. Haunches tensed, hackles raised, teeth bared. The only difference between the Chimera and a regular dog, Annabeth calculated, was that this one had claws half a foot long, a lion's head, and snake with poisonous fangs for a tail.
So not much different (note the sarcasm).
She didn't even think about it. She just ran full-tilt at the monster, her mind flying through possibility after possibility of how to stop this monster. But none of them would work with how far away she was, and for the second time in their stay in the literal pits of hell Annabeth felt like she couldn't breathe. "PERCY!" She screamed, her voice mangled in her desperation as the Chimera launched itself at him. "LOOK—"
Percy turned at the sound of her voice, and belatedly caught sight of the beast. But Annabeth was still too many feet away when the monster's claws ripped through the skin on his chest.
"—Out," she whispered, as her knife passed through the monster's chest.
The blood flow was barely slowing down, and soon her shirt was going to be completely soaked through with the red liquid. Although the claws of the Chimera weren't poisonous, they'd done enough damage. Even for a demigod a wound like this can be fatal, and especially with the amount of blood loss Percy'd had. And Annabeth hadn't got enough gumption to size up the red puddle under her boyfriend that grew bigger and bigger by the second.
She was sobbing by then, the kind of sobbing that chokes your words and constricts your windpipe and makes you sound like a dying hellhound, but she couldn't stop it. The most she could try to do is try and see through the sudden blur in her eyes and hope upon hope and keep up her steady mental chant of not Percy not Percy please not Percy not Percy not Percy.
"Stay with me, Percy!" Annabeth shrieked, her words desperate and marred by her own sobs as she removed one hand from the makeshift shirt-compress and fished around in her pocket for the crumbled, broken-up bits of ambrosia. Her voice broke pathetically near the end, and try as she may, her next words didn't come out at anything louder than a pained whisper. "Percy, don't leave me here, please. I can't live without you."
She forced a few of the squares into his mouth and made him chew, but his beautiful green eyes were already becoming dimmer and dimmer by the second, and they were starting to flutter closed. He was dying. Percy, herstupidadorableamazingsarcasticdodobrainedsweet Percy, was dying.
Desperation struck her. She couldn't lose him, not now, not after everything. She couldn't just have gone through that much to get him back to die in her arms when she could do nothing about it. He was Percy, he was her rock. He was her other half. He was her best friend. When he was around or near it was never just Annabeth or Percy anymore, it was Annabeth and Percy.
I can't lose him, Annabeth thought, and she slapped his face roughly, trying to make him keep his eyes open as she pressed harder onto his chest bandages to try and staunch the blood flow. It worked, and however briefly he still locked his emerald orbs onto her own, green on gray, and then suddenly everything spilled out like a broken floodgate.
"Please, Percy, please please please don't die on me here! I can't lose you, I can't bear it. Gods, I can't even bear thinking about it anymore because I love you so much and that's scary to me, even though it shouldn't be, and I don't ever, ever want to let it go! Because even though this is so illogical and by all means we shouldn't be together because we should be totally incompatible and stuff, but we're not and I love you even more for it because you're my Seaweed Brain, my best friend and the love of my life, that little twelve year old boy with the twinkling green eyes and the sarcastic, troublemaker smile that grew on me! I said back on the ship that it took me a few years before I liked you, but that was a lie. I think I started liking you the moment I saw you, but I didn't want to tell you that then and maybe now I won't ever be able to. I'm so sorry, Percy.
"You know that thing you said back on the ship, about New Rome, about settling down there? You thought you had said too much but you hadn't, you really hadn't. I want that, Percy. I want to be able to settle down with you and eventually get married and Hades, maybe even someday have a few kids that have your eyes and my intelligence and we can just be one big happy family that can just be carefree and not have to worry about getting killed or our kids getting killed. I want that, so so so much it hurts."
She broke down then as Percy's eyes closed fully, and she bent over him, all but collapsing on him as the sobs got louder and louder and more and more pained. But she couldn't stop them because she could feel his breathing getting shallower and shallower under her ear and she could hear his heartbeat getting slower and slower with every passing millisecond.
Suddenly she pulled her head off the now tear-stained area between his left shoulder and his neck and kissed him on the mouth. She's no prince and he's quite obviously no Sleeping Beauty, but she was so desperate and this could be her last hope and she thought that it might maybe possibly work, so she kissed him with a renewed sense of urgency and desperation. His lips are chapped against hers and they tasted like sea salt, and were so so so familiar that it made her heart ache.
But they didn't respond.
And with that Annabeth pulled away slowly, grief taking a hold of her body and control of every single one of her nerves and veins. Every movement she took away from Percy sent a stab of pain through her chest, because she, Annabeth Marie Chase, knew with a deep, deep certainty that her boyfriend was dead.
Her cries were silent now, but that didn't make them any less painful. She turned away, unable to look at her boyfriend/best friend/everything's still form, and opened her mouth to whisper what she thought would be her last words to him.
"I love you, Perseus Andrew Jackson. Don't you ever forget that."
A moment passed, then another. Suddenly this both literal and figurative hell was almost too quiet to bear.
Then suddenly, amazingly, a voice spoke out from behind her. "So, hypothetically, you're saying that you'd only accept our hypothetical children if they had my eyes?"
It couldn't be. Annabeth's heart stopped, and then started again at a completely erratic pace. She turned around, and to her intense disbelief, Percy's eyes were open and looking straight at her.
At first she thought it was a trick of the light. Her brain told her it wasn't possible; Percy had died. She'd heard his breathing and heart rate slow herself. Bodies don't lie like that; they can't just regenerate from death. She blinked a few times, trying to get rid of any hallucinations, but Percy's image stayed there.
Or it could just be that I went completely, utterly insane and Tartarus is tormenting me again, she thought. But still she moved closer, slowly, ever so slowly, although it was painful to be away and every inch away from him felt like a mile.
She touched him hesitantly at first, a feather-light touch on his wrist. She could feel the muscle and tissue and bone under her fingers, and his pulse beneath that, weak but still there. He was real. Her fingers moved to his chest and then his face, as if trying to memorize every single line of him.
Her first thought was oh gods, I'm only in my bra because my shirt's currently being used as a bandage.
Her second one was I don't give a crap. He's alive.
"You're real," she stated in wonderment, dropping her head back onto his shoulder and wrapping her arms as closely around him as his chest injury would allow. If she thought her brain was going haywire before, it certainly surpassed that into complete overdrive now as her mind whispered a chorus of Percy Percy Percy. She almost couldn't get those words out because the sense of relief she felt was crashing against her in harsh waves that constricted her throat and jumbled her thoughts into near oblivion.
"By the way," he managed, his voice like dry sandpaper but the smirk obvious in his voice as he tried to hug her back as best as one could with a massive gash on their pectoral and a few semi-healing ribs, "I always knew you were lying."
She cried out of sheer joy.
/
Annabeth always knew how exhausted one felt at the end of a battle, but nothing, noteven the Battle of Manhattan had been like this.
The odds certainly weren't in their favour, but somehow they made it. Somehow they managed it through the sea of forces that came to stop them with no major injuries. Gaea or no Gaea, it still would have been just as hard. Because even for a monster, Tartarus was bad, and it also apparently made their thirsts for revenge stronger by tenfold.
Percy looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. Down in Tartarus there wasn't much water for him to use, so they had to rely on a lot more hand-to-hand combat. At least until they lured the monsters closer to the lake and Percy dumped the black tar-like liquid onto the crowd of monsters that had boxed them in.
The tar was corrosive, that much Annabeth could tell. It had melted the monster's skin off horribly before reducing them to piles of dust. And the black goo was so thick it had choked the rest of the monsters to death.
Percy took her hand. They walked so close together that from afar, it would have been hard to tell where one started and the other ended.
They walked and walked and walked until every one of their bones hurt, and they couldn't walk anymore. There was a small crevice a few feet away that they tucked themselves into, and Annabeth folded herself into Percy's arms and rested there, her head against his chest and his head on top of hers with their legs intertwined.
They took turns keeping watch and sleeping in shifts of around two hours, and Percy watched her drift off to sleep.
We'll make it another day, Annabeth, he thought. We're strong. We'll make it.
He smoothed a few stray curls off her beautiful face and kept his eyes on the horizon until the growl of the Manticore told them they had company.
/
They followed the same pattern for the next few days: Walk. Fight monsters along the way. Fight even more monsters. Keep walking and defeat said monsters until you're about ready to collapse. Go find a place that's slightly sheltered and nurse whatever wounds you've got before falling asleep while your girlfriend/boyfriend stands watch. Maybe even try and grab a measly bite to eat or something non-poisonous to drink somewhere in there.
Four days. The light dimmed in Tartarus to parody sunset and sunrise, so Percy knew how long it had been. Four days. He kept count, finding that it helped him keep a better hold on reality. They hadn't eaten anything more than a few leaves and some nasty-tasting (but luckily non-poisonous) bark, and only drank a few mouthfuls a day. His mouth felt like sandpaper and tasted like an armpit.
The survival classes he'd taken at camp had informed him that the body could go three days without water and three weeks without food, but Annabeth was already becoming thinner and thinner. Like him, her clothes didn't fit her as well as they used to. She'd always been skinny, of course, but she had had those curves to her that he loved.
Now she was all sharp angles, all bone. When he held her he could feel her spine against his chest, and he could probably could feel for her ribs and be able to count them. But she was still Annabeth, after all of that. That was the one thing that hadn't changed yet, although she'd already started to retreat into herself.
And that was what broke him the most.
Injury count, he thought, his brain trickling as slowly as mollasses. Another thing that kept him sane. Him: A broken rib, claw marks on his back from when three Empousas had decided to have a little 'fun' with him, and countless other scratches and small cuts. Annabeth: a gash above her eyebrow, clawmarks from a Sphinx, and a broken ankle. He'd always tried to protect her, but he knew it was futile. He was only one person (although one fairly powerful half-god person), and he couldn't save her from everything.
Sometimes it felt like Annabeth was slowly slipping away. Not just from him, but from the world. From everything. Percy got the flashbacks too, all the bad things that had ever happened to everyone he loved, and everything that could happen to them. He knew what Annabeth was going through, and how she watched her best friends and family and him die and bleed and be tortured in every single way possible in her head as they screamed in pain and cried and sobbed and how the monsters always smiled and laughed as they did it and how that broke you. Maybe it was worse for her in that aspect, because Annabeth was big on logic and nothing down here was logical at all. But he knew how it felt when you wake up and suddenly feel so conflicted and paranoid and how you think it was real, and how your heart races because you have to gogogo and save them.
But they're not there, and for all you know that could be happening to them somewhere while you're down here, stuck in hell. Literally.
Athena had been right. Loyalty was his fatal flaw, and the pit was most definitely using that against him.
/
Six days. Six nights of flashbacks, and almost seven days of running from monsters.
Percy knew they'd have to move soon, that they'd have to keep moving if they wanted to reach Epirus. But Annabeth had told him to lie down and rest while his chest wound healed, and she'd taken two watch shifts until her eyes had started to close and Percy took over for her.
They'd been in the cave overnight, at the very least. He remembered what Chiron had said back in his early years of camp about how it was dangerous for demigods, especially powerful ones like he and Annabeth, to stay in one place for more than a few hours at a time, and especially at night. Monsters got stronger at night.
Percy had hoped his stink would at least mask a bit of their demigodly aura, but so far that hadn't worked too well.
He shifted his eyes from the mouth of the cave to Annabeth, who was sleeping in his arms. Her shirt was still tied across his chest like a MacGyver-style bandage but she'd put her jacket on, thank the gods. Once he'd realized that she was only wearing a bra and hugging him at the same time,his face got all hot and he probably looked a bit like a squashed tomato.
He felt like a creeper staring at her, but he didn't care. When you're in Tartarus and the possibility of suddenly getting killed is quite high, you don't really bother with that kind of worrying anymore. You learn to enjoy the simple pleasures in life when on the constant brink of death, like staring at your beautiful girlfriend Annabeth while she sleeps.
But gods, she was beautiful. Even like that, covered in grime with her princess curls matted with blood and a gash above her eye and the lines of her collarbone, ribs, and spine all visible through her clothing, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Sometimes it gave him hope, looking at her. Hope that maybe even if he might not be able to make it, she would. At this point Percy didn't really care if he had to die in the process, he just wanted Annabeth to be safe and happy. Somewhere away from here.
She'd become the main focus of his flashbacks lately. Sure, the others of the Seven and his mom and Paul and Nico all played fairly big roles, but Annabeth had become the main focus. She was the biggest variable in the equation of his current life; all the others had a better chance of surviving. Everyone at camp was safe, protected by Camp-Half-Blood and left alone because Gaea would probably figure that the Romans would destroy them anyways. His mom and Paul would be safe, because Gaea would be focusing almost all of her energy on him and Annabeth and the rest of the Seven.
If Gaea got Leo or Hazel or Frank or Jason or Piper or Nico, he'd feel terrible. But at the same time, he would know that he couldn't have done anything about it. He was down here, they were up there. And as bad as it may sound, there would be nothing he could do about it.
Annabeth, on the other hand, would be different. If she died he'd never ever ever in a million gazillion years forgive himself, because he would always know that there could have been something he could've done to save her.
He knew Arachne was down here somewhere, biding her time. She'd come back to get her revenge soon, and when she did… well, it wouldn't be pretty.
We can make it, Percy tried to think confidently. We're almost three quarters of the way there. We can make it.
But when Annabeth woke and took over for a little bit, he dreamed of spiders and pincers and Annabeth's terrified screams.
/
They didn't have to wait long for Arachne to strike.
It was day eight. They'd probably covered at least another hundred miles, and Annabeth had calculated that they would be at the other side in a few days. They were hiding in a kind of crevasse between two boulders, and it was her second shift. She had shaken him to wake him up and he had done so with a half-sob, half-gasp because this time he was watching as three Cyclopses ate Annabeth and his Mom and Paul slowly while they shrieked in terror and pain, and he could do nothing but watch as slowly they become nothing but a torso and a head and then the Cyclopes ate those too. He'd woken up just as more Cyclopses came dragging in the rest of his friends, sitting straight up, choking on a dry sob as the crisp night air cooled down his sweaty skin, and he clung to Annabeth like a dying man (which, in retrospect, might not have the best metaphor, considering the situation).
His hands had moved from her shoulders down her arms, where he could practically feel every single one of her bones. She was definitely real, and slowly he stopped shaking as they clung to each other.
She had hugged him back for a few moments but soon pulled away, a sad kind of smile on her face as she looked him in the eye. Her eyes were sunken. Those stormy grey eyes that were once able to change to so many shades and express so many emotions at the same time were now a dull slate color.
If Percy had to pick only one word to describe them, he'd pick the word dead. So her nightmares hadn't been exactly pleasant either, then.
"I think I heard something outside," she said lowly. "I'm just going to go check it out, okay?" And she kissed him and squeezed his hand in an unspoken ritual they had to remind the other and themselves that they were both real, and both alive.
Injury count: Three broken ribs, a multitude of gashes, a broken ankle, and a messed-up knee.
As she turned and her figure slowly became smaller and smaller, he roused himself slowly. Sleep, or lack thereof, clung to him along with the panic of the nightmares. His chest wound had healed surprisingly fast for only two days, but he still wanted to be careful.
But then Annabeth screamed, a sound that had every single hair on the back of his neck standing up and every single nerve, vein, and artery in Percy's body wide awake.
He rushed out of the small crack in the wall that he and Annabeth had been hiding in and he immediately knew that the sight that met his eyes would be the starring role in his nightmares from then on.
Arachne had come for Annabeth, and the giant spider was holding his girlfriend tightly with her front pincers.
"Perseus Jackson," the creature hissed in a voice that was not human but not totally spider, either. "You have two options: leave now, or watch as your beloved girlfriend die a very violent death in my arms. Either way, she dies."
"LET ME GO!" Annabeth shrieked. Her face glistened with tears in the moonlight. Arachne just looked down at her, her smile as sharp and wicked as poison. The spider squeezed, and a horrible, tortured shriek filled the air. Arachne had broken at least one of his girlfriend's ribs.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, my sweet," Arachne purred as Annabeth sobbed with the pain, briefly glancing at her captive again before returning her gaze to Percy. "Have you made your choice yet, my darling?"
Cold fear flooded his veins, but it wasn't for him. It was for his broken girlfriend struggling in the spider's arms.
"I will end you," he hissed, his voice shaking and all the anger at this spider pouring out into his words, succeeding in making his voice crack and making him seem weak. "I swear to all the gods that if you touch even one hair on Annabeth's head, I will end you."
Arachne just laughed, a kind of ripping noise that made that cold fear bubble into a panic somewhere around Percy's stomach and his brain spit out a steady chant of not Annabeth not Annabeth not Annabeth please please please not Annabeth.
Because he couldn't do anything to help from this angle without going through Annabeth. This was what he had feared, that kind of helplessness where the only thing you want and care about in the world is making sure that that one person is safe, but you can't make it happen.
Arachne started to drag one of her barb-tipped front arm/leg things across Annabeth's upper arm, drawing a thin like of blood that made Annabeth sob in pain again and bite her already split lip. The spider smiled at him coldly, what he thought a mocking glint in her pitch-black eyes taunting him. "I guess you've decided to stay, then."
Arachne dragged her claw across Annabeth's upper arm once more, and this time Annabeth cried out in a way that made Percy feel like someone had ripped his heart straight out of his chest as he stared at them in horror.
His mind raced through ways to get the spider off her. There was a small pile of water a few yards away from Annabeth and her captor. It was only a few pints, but it could still work. He nodded slightly at Annabeth, hoping that she'd notice and be alert, before he locked his eyes on the water and concentrated.
I have to save Annabeth, he thought, pushing everything else out of the way except for that and all his hope. I have to. It was no longer a want, it was a need. He focused on the water, and without moving his hands at all he managed to will the water to wrap around two of the spider's legs and tug her backwards sharply.
Arachne flailed, her hold slipping, and Annabeth broke away. Percy barely had time to feel relieved before he uncapped Riptide and charged.
He stopped counting how many times he stabbed the monster. Anger. He was so filled with anger that all he could see was red. Anger at Arachne for hurting Annabeth, anger at the gods for not being able to get their goddamn schizophrenic act together. Anger at Gaea, for starting this all. Anger at the Roman camp he'd cared for, the camp that was marching to annihilate his home. Anger. It burned bright.
He lost count after five or six, and continued turning the monster into a bloody mess until he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He knew without turning around that it was Annabeth, but he did it anyways. Then he saw her face, and finally those great waves of relief washed over him and filled every single crevice of his body and made his throat close up. He didn't even know what to say to her so he just held her, cupping her face in one hand and the other one cradling the back of her head and kissed her, trying to pour out all his feelings and relief and love for her into that one kiss.
She kissed him back just as desperately, her hands grabbing hold of him by the sides of his shirt and pulling him even closer. In a sea of unfamiliar things, Annabeth's lips were the one thing that always stayed the same.
And in that one moment he knew that if he died now, he would die happy. Because even for now, Annabeth was safe.
/
Percy Jackson's sleep was not fitful.
It never was in Tartarus, not with the monsters and the flashbacks and that ever-present sense of fear. But the night before had been different from the Annabeth and Arachne nightmares that had plagued him for the last two nights.
A ring twirled in the air, flashing light around the scene, and was then caught by a pale, grimy hand. He couldn't see who it was; the face was blurred, out of focus. Instead he focused on the ring, studying it in a way that would make Annabeth proud. Silver and obsidian, it was carved into the familiar form of a skull that tugged at Percy's memory. Silver and obsidian. He couldn't be sure, but that ring looked a heck of a lot like Nico's ring...
Then the figure spoke, slurring words into a quiet, hushed whisper. "Twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the key to endless death…"
Percy's breath caught as the dream tilted upwards. If he hadn't been sure of whom the person was because of the voice, he was now. It was Nico.
The black-haired boy flopped down on the bed, upsetting his already messy hair even more, and whispered the line of the prophecy again.
"Twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the key to—"
Suddenly Nico bolted upwards. "I've got it!"
The dream switched, and Percy was now facing a tall, olive-skinned woman with blood red lips and black, tangled hair that fell past her hips.
The floor was covered in fortune cookies, hundreds and thousands of them, but only one in particular caught Percy's attention. The woman in front of him held it in her hand, and she outstretched her open palm towards him so he could get a better look at it. The cookie was already broken in half, and he could just make out the inscription. True success requires sacrifice.
The woman smiled in a way that sent a chill down his spine. Her form flickered; for a second it was Smelly Gabe, and another flash of white-hot anger flew through him, and then it was Mrs. Dodds and Octavian and Gaea, all within the blink of an eye. "An eye for an eye, Percy Jackson," she purred. With a jolt, Percy realized that he'd heard those words before.
Someone was calling his name, and slowly the steady mantra pulled him back into reality. "Percy," Annabeth whispered urgently, her fingertips brushing against his cheeks. "We have to go. The others are almost there."
They'd travelled all day the day before, covering what seemed like a thousand miles but was probably closer to about fifty or so.
"What?" He asked groggily, shaking his head to try and clear his brain as he struggled to stand up, trying to keep his eyes away from the thin scabs on Annabeth's arm.
Annabeth smiled, her pre-Tartarus self suddenly making an appearance. Her smile sent warmth shooting through his bones as she spoke her next words with a kind of reverence, "we're almost to Epirus, Percy. We have to go. I had a dream and the others are almost there. We have to go meet them. We have to go home."
On the way, Percy told Annabeth about his dreams in a hushed voice. They both walked with a slight limp but there was a new kind of spring in Annabeth's step, one provided by the friendly spirit of hope.
Although Annabeth was hopeful, Percy couldn't let himself feel that way. Not until the war was over and Gaea's deity-ly butt had been kicked all the way back to Tartarus and stayed there, not until they were safe and home and away from here. But if they ever did get out of this, Percy knew they'd both be different. So, so different. Two broken creatures, trying to be whole again, like two butterflies learning how to fly again with ripped wings.
"I don't know what all of them mean, but I might have an idea," she mused, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before she stopped, turning to look at her boyfriend with wide eyes. "Wait. How many days has it been since we got here?"
"Ten," he responded automatically. He knew that number like the back of his hand. He'd counted.
"You're counting by how many times the sun set, right?"
He nodded, not wanting to speak.
Annabeth pursed her lips as she started walking again. Her eyes looked a little bit brighter, Percy noticed, a little bit more like they used to be. "Nico told me that time goes three times slower in Tartarus, so that would make today the day that Gaea rises."
Also the day that the Romans get to Camp Half-Blood, he finished mentally.
No monsters had attacked them so far, knock on wood. That seems to be a good sign, but that was probably only because they were saving their strength for the main event. Annabeth said nothing, probably sensing that he didn't want to talk, and just wrapped her arm around Percy's waist tightly. And as he did the same to her, briefly pecking her forehead with lips like sandpaper, he thought that maybe there was a point to hope.
Maybe.
/
Percy almost sobbed when he first saw Jason's figure above them in the House of Hades, and again when the rest of the Seven ran in behind him. But this was no time for introductions or hugs, as there were dozens of monsters swarming in to stop them.
Everything was a blur after that, and Percy's mind went into overdrive. He lost count of how many monsters he'd killed. It became a process. Slash. Hack. Stab. Cover Annabeth's blind spots. He honed it down until it was systematic and everything seemed the same. Fight a monster. Kill a monster. Fight more monsters. Kill More monsters. Repeat above steps. Forget about your injuries and various pains. All he knew was that suddenly a form started to rise out of the ground, and everyone abruptly stopped fighting.
Suddenly everything sharpened again. Percy looked at the ground, where there was barely an inch of ground space not covered in monster dust or blood. The monsters must have stopped too, because there was a rush of stabbing and all other kinds of sounds that go along with taking out monsters from above, while the monsters from Tartarus retreated backwards with growls and hisses.
And then everything was quiet, the kind of scary quiet that where all you can hear is the blood rushing around in your ears and the pounding of your adrenalin-fuelled heart.
A rope was flung down through a small hole in the ceiling. "Grab on, boys and girls! We're going for a ride!"
Even Leo sounded different. There wasn't as much cheer and gusto in his voice as there used to be, Percy realized as he ushered Annabeth up the rope. She climbed as best she could, trying to fight the gravitational pull of Tartarus, and was suddenly yanked up.
The rope was dangled down again, and this time Percy took it. There was a strange kind of ringing noise in his head as he fought the pull of the pit, and then he was carried up by what he found out was Frank in elephant form and Arion the wonder pony.
Silence. Everyone just froze and stared at Percy and Annabeth for a few moments, like they couldn't believe their eyes. They all blinked at the same time as if all puppets of the same force, pulling themselves out of their shock, and then they all moved.
Straight away Hazel flung herself at him, almost knocking him over. A sense of fear cut through him before he could stop it. Hazel. He remembered her. His friend, his quest mate on the quest to free Thanatos; the younger girl with the curly hair that he thought of as a little sister and one of his best friends. Definitely not an enemy, he thought with a kind of guilt. He put his arms around her awkwardly, trying his best to stay in this world and not the world that was inside his head. He muttered a quick 'hi' to her before pulling away to survey the scene.
Jason. Piper. Leo. Frank. Hazel. Nico. All of them were smiling at him. Every single one of them had the trademark dark smudges and circles around their eyes of the typical insomniac, and Piper, Hazel, and even Frank were crying a little bit. But all of them were smiling at him and Annabeth in a way that warmed Percy's heart and helped ground him a little bit.
Not enemies, he thought with determination as he looked at hisfriends. Definitely not enemies.
But then something had to shatter the sudden almost-peace he felt, and that came in the form of him noticing with a kind of nauseating resignation that the form that was rising was most definitely Gaea's.
He grabbed Annabeth by the arm as gently as he could and they walked over to where the rest of the seven and Nico stood huddled together.
Percy had planned to say something like, okay, guys, what's our game plan here? But the words didn't make it out of his throat. Staring at around at Jason and that scar he had above his lip and Piper with her braids and Leo with his toolbelt and his impish grin and Frank with is centurion badge still pinned to his shirt, he'd never felt so close to someone(s) yet so far away.
Luckily Annabeth spoke for him. "So, um, do we have a plan?" Her eyes had gotten dull again, and Percy knew she was fighting to stay in the present just like he was. But just being out of that hellhole had helped her more than anything else could.
Jason managed a weak smile at the pair, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Glad to have you guys back," he said quietly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed what his words indicated was a lump of emotions. "We, uh, don't actually have that much of a plan. But Nico here solved the third line of the prophecy from Annabeth's quest."
As Nico shuffled around and twisted his ring nervously, Percy suddenly knew what the line meant. The twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the key to endless death.
Holds the key to endless death. Holds the key to endless death. The answer to the line of the Prophecy was there, like the sudden click of lock tumblers. The answer was hidden in plain sight. Nico's ring was the key to closing Tartarus.
Beside him, Annabeth gasped. If not before on the way to Epirus, she'd definitely gotten it now. "Oh gods," she said reverently, her eyes widening. "Do you know what else you have to do, Nico?"
The black-haired boy nodded, but his eyes were focused on Percy. Although the other boy's eyes had lost a bit of their broken look, there was still deep sadness buried in him. The younger boy smiled at Percy sadly, a silent I'm sorry. Out of everyone there (except for Annabeth), Nico knew the most what Tartarus was like, how it broke something inside you into such fractured pieces.
"Not much," the younger boy finally responded after a slight pause that hung in the air, his eyes focusing back on Annabeth. "Just calling on some gods and hoping that they'll help, that kind of stuff."
Annabeth managed a slight upwards twitch of her lips and muttered an 'okay', and suddenly everyone was staring at Percy.
All they want is just assent, he told himself. They're not going to hurt you or Annabeth.
So Percy forced one of the corners of his mouth upwards in a smile and nodded. "Sounds- sounds good. Great, uh, work, Nico," he forced out, stumbling over his own words.
Injury count, he thought once again, looking around. Annabeth's got three broken ribs and her ankle, I've got my stupid knee and gashes on my chest and back, Jason's walking with a limp, Leo looks like he's working on pure coffee, Frank was favoring his left arm, and Nico was still using his black sword as a cane.
He and Leo devised a plan. Actually, Leo devised it and Percy offered to help.
After all, Gaea was made of dirt. Dirt gets eroded by things like wind and water and maybe even fire. That might be line two of the Great Prophecy, anyways, so they figured they'd start a three point attack on whom Leo had dubbed 'Dirt Face'.
The whole thing blurred again. Time passed like honey and molasses flowing on a flat surface. It had to have been almost an hour, and Leo and Jason and Percy were all drenched in sweat as they fought the dirt, throwing fireballs and sharp gusts of wind and lightning bolts and water walls against the dirt while Piper tried to charmspeak Gaea and the others tried to help. It almost kind of worked, because the goddess was still reforming.
All of them knew that their current advantage wouldn't last. They'd managed to shift her over to only a few feet away from the hole, but this was a goddess who fought dirty. Pieces of dirt formed hard walls. Pieces of clay and metal in the earth formed into a kind of skiv… that went straight for Piper.
"NO!" Jason shouted, features panicked as he stopped fighting and sprinted over to her. Percy knew how he was feeling, that deep gut feeling where all you want to do is just take that sword or dagger or whatever weapon it is for them, and Jason did just that.
Percy kept pummelling the earth goddess over to Tartarus, but could see what happened out of the corner of his eye. Jason pushed his girlfriend out of the way, but didn't make it out of the way himself in time. It caught his chest sideways as it passed, leaving a huge gash that looked like it had to be at least a foot long.
Piper screamed and rushed over him, cursing and trying to keep blood loss to a minimal as she fed Jason nectar and tried to stop the flow of tears down her face. Jason. Percy'd never got along with Jason too well, but the son of the sea god had always considered the other boy a friend. He couldn't look anymore, and instead focused all his attention back on Gaea, trying to block out all the panic and grief. Not Jason, he thought, his anger at the gods and the planet and everyone else except for his friends and the people that were on his side trickling out. Don't let him die, damnit!
They were all separated from each other. Piper was taking care of Jason, who was too weak to fight at that moment. Hazel was throwing chunks of precious metals at Gaea while tears streamed down her face. Percy knew she was remembering the last time Gaea rose and what happened. Frank had turned into a dragon and was trying to roast Gaea. Annabeth was over by an altar in the center of the room with Nico, gesticulating something with her hands. It looked like they were trying to work out what to do with the ring.
Beside him Leo had burst into flame with his own anger. "LEAVE MY FRIENDS ALONE, DIRT FACE!" He roared, and along with the fire dancing at the tips of his fingers and ears, the curly-haired boy looked completely manic.
The pair struck against Gaea a renewed type of energy. Together they all formed a well-made team: Leo burnt Gaea with the help of Frank, part-time dragon, and as the pain distracted her Percy would attack that side with water as Hazel slammed the deity with a three foot thick slab of granite.
Five feet. Four feet. Three. Gaea was almost to the edge of the entrance to the pit when she pulled out another homemade sword and sent it towards Annabeth.
Percy stopped. It felt like his whole world was crashing down as he watched the blade move closer to Annabeth in slow motion. He tried to move, but Gaea had trapped his legs in the soil. He was panicking and shaking so hard that any water strike he could think of wouldn't work because this was Annabeth, his Annabeth, his best friend and girlfriend and the actual love of his life, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
But then to his intense relief, the knife bounced away suddenly, skittering away on a forceful burst of wind.
"NO!" Jason shouted again, struggling up with the help of Piper. The wound on his chest was still oozing blood at a pretty steady rate, but the determination in his very stance outweighed that.
He pointed at Gaea with a hand practically vibrating with anger. "You," he said, clenching his teeth, "are not going to hurt any of us ever again."
He closed his eyes briefly, and then hobbled over to the knife and sent it back towards the goddess with the most powerful gust of wind at Gaea Percy had ever seen. Her figure, still moving and transforming, shifted over until she was flailing over the edge of the pit.
"Posiedon," Percy whispered, praying to every single god he could think of, "Zeus, Hera, Hades, Aphrodite, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, Demeter, Dionysus, Athena, Hermes, and all of you other gods that I can't think of right now because my brain is going completely and utterly crazy: please, help us."
Behind him he could hear the others picking up the tune, chanting the gods and goddesses' names, and the air began to swirl around them. They gods were listening. Strike, my son, Poseidon said in Percy's mind. The words were as familiar as his mom's homemade cookies.
Behind him Annabeth, Nico, Jason, Hazel, Piper, Leo, and Frank all changed to get ready; whatever, they could do, they were all ready. Percy nodded at them, and spoke one word.
"Now."
And then he thrust his arms out and sent the water at the goddess once again as the others charged her, throwing/breathing flameballs and gusts of wind and lightning bolts and slabs of rock at her, and as Nico set his ring on Hades' altar and screamed a prayer to every death spirit and god he could think of, Gaea's crumbling form fell into the pit and the last Door of Death closed.
/
Shock came first. None of them could believe it was over; they all just stared at the unmarked spot on the floor where the goddess had fallen. Could it really be over?
No one moved. They all just stood there, grins stretching lazily across their faces as they realized the truth. It was over. Gaea had fallen. Then relief bubbled up inside Percy like he was an explosive about to go off. It was. It really was over. But still, no one moved, and the relief bubbled up in him even more and suddenly the explosive inside him went off, and then Percy Jackson started to sob.
It was clear that the others didn't think it was him that was sobbing. First they looked around, and finding nothing they looked at Annabeth. But it wasn't her, so they followed her gaze to Percy.
His knees gave away and he crumpled to the floor. The sobs got louder and louder and by now, no one in the room could doubt that they were coming from him. He could hear Annabeth's footsteps coming towards him on the tile, and then he felt her arms around him as he shook and cried and sobbed and she was crying out of sheer joy, just like him, and they just held each other for a few minutes while the others watched uncomfortably.
It was over. They were free.
Suddenly Piper and Hazel came over and wrapped their arms around the pair. Any other time it would have seemed weird and Percy knew that Annabeth would have kicked their butts back to Camp, but in that moment it fit. And then Leo screamed, "GROUP HUG!" And him and Frank and Jason and even Nico, who treated hugs like a death sentence, came over until Percy and Annabeth were in the middle of a sweaty, stinky (albeit comforting) demigod sandwich.
And they weren't the only ones who cried.
/
Fin. :)