With the world on the brink of war, mandatory conscription is required of all men above the age of eighteen. Sixteen-year old Annabeth Chase finds herself evacuated from her home in New York to the English countryside for her own safety. Percy Jackson is everything she should stay away from; he has the mystery, the accent and those infuriatingly beautiful green eyes. She can't help but be drawn to him. As the world tips into chaos, two people learn how to make a home in the wreckage.

Rated: M

Inspired by: How I Live Now (the film since that's all I've seen, but the book is on my to-read list xD)

Warning: Triggers, dark themes, violence, sexual content and explicit language

II Conflicted Affections II

II Prologue II

Guns. That was the first thing I noticed as soon as I stepped off the plane. The heavy military presence of soldiers lined side by side in pairs, patrolling every corner of the airport added to my foreboding mood about this damned trip.

The smell didn't help either. God, the smell was awful.

Increasing the grip on my suitcase, I turned to the nearest restroom. The itch had come back, spreading through my body like the sting of a bee. Water spluttered out of the sink, as I scrubbed my fingers until they turned a harsh red. I looked around, noticing that the bathroom was deserted. Glancing up, my eye caught the mirror. It was stained with dirt, cracked in some places. It seemed that maintenance had been low in priority since The Attacks started.

Golden hair curled past my shoulders, reaching my elbows in unfashionable ringlets. The ends were different lengths; courtesy of kitchen shears used back home. The colour made my usually tanned skin from months at summer camp in Long Island seemed to result in ghost-like paleness from the fourteen-hour flight. Translucent, I could see the dark blue veins wrapping around my wrists. Faint pale lines wrapped around my wrists, barely visible to the naked eye and had long healed, hidden by the new layers of skin that had rebuilt on top of the scars.

It's your entire fault. Why couldn't you have tried to convince Dad? That's the reason you're here anyway. You own father can't help you, who can?

"Don't listen to them Annabeth." I whispered. "They're voices. Just voices." I glared into my silver eyes, remembering my mother's smile. "It's not your fault. She loved you. She didn't want to leave you."

I kept repeating the chant in my head, gripping the edge of the sink in an unbreakable hold. The opening of the door awoke me from my stupor quickly, as a young woman came in, hands gripping a toddler who rushed into one of the cubicles.

Releasing one last held breath, I pulled my phone and headphones out, stuffing them over my ears and blasting music to drown out the voices. For once, it seemed to work. Grabbing my passport, I made my way towards the collection point, standing in the ever-moving line.

The woman at the checkpoint table was as grey as the airport. Dark hair was pulled into a stern bun, grey slacks and a white blouse that seemed to be the standard colours ever since the Attacks had become more frequent and the looming cry of war on the horizon.

"Passport please." Her voice was robotic, as she scanned my passport through the computer. "Step forward for identification please."

With a short intake of breath, I stood in front of the scanner, as lines scanned my face. The computer beeped, turning a light green.

"Here's your passport Ms. Chase. Welcome to Newquay, Cornwall. Enjoy your stay."

Releasing the breath I seemed to have held, I stepped through the boarder into the English shoreline. There were people scattered around the entrance, a woman with a headscarf wrapped around her head asking for directions, girls kissing boys who were dressed in camouflage as they parted to aircrafts, a few younger boys around her age staring at the propaganda posters that lined the walls or to the soldiers, almost wistfully. In a year, they would be sent to the front line. I wondered if they were excited. Malcolm was, although his eagerness to escape from his little sister and his messed up life must have been the main reason for his hasty enlistment. There were television screens scattered around, hanging from metal wires from the ceiling, showcasing news about new attacks in Berlin, Hong Kong and Seoul.

There was so much fire, so much destruction.

Fisting through my pockets, I gripped the edge of my phone, turning the sound up to thundering volume. Closing my eyes, I breathed in slowly, dropping my suitcase and duffle bag onto an empty seat, gazing out of the terminal window into Cornwall.

Everything was so different from New York; there was no hustle or bustle of people pounding down the streets, no well-dressed men in suits carrying briefcases or girls tittering for a cab. It was an unnerving quietness, the sky a pale blue. Few clouds flittered across, and the sun seemed almost non-existent. I had heard of how unpredictable English weather can be, but I hadn't thought it to be so dreary or wet. There goes my tan. Shivering, I pulled my jacket closer around myself, threading my fingers together as I took in the vacant car park.

Even now, the airport seemed so un-busy compared to home; I had a hard time with my thoughts. Usually the noise helped, the noise drowned out the voices. But there was no noise here, only the quiet hum of the countryside or the occasional roar of aircrafts high above the clouds. A sickening, twisted sense of vertigo broke through me, as I glanced around the unfamiliar place.

Dad- no, Fredrick, had said I would be staying with my Godmother, Sally. She had two boys and one girl. Remarried. He seemed all too willing to give me this 'vacation' when Sally had called and proposed the idea. They all seemed to have forgotten that we were practically strangers. I hadn't seen Sally since I was three, I didn't even remember what she looked like.

"Anna! Anna!" A voice with a ridiculously English accent called out. Turning towards the source of the voice, I saw a small figure pushing past people, a large grin on his face. He held out a name card that spelled my name in what looked like kindergarten penmanship, spelling my name as two separate words. Glitter and flower drawings danced across the page, evidently drawn by Sally's only girl.

I jerked my headphones away from my ears, glancing at the boy with a raised eyebrow. An excited grin spread across his face, "You must be Cousin Anna, I'm Nico. I hope it's okay that I called you my cousin, Anna. We don't have any other family 'cause both mum and dad are only child's, but mum said that you're practically our cousin, even if you're not related to us." The boy, Nico, spoke at the speed of light.

A growl almost left my mouth, "My name is Annabeth, one word. Only my dad call's me Anna, and he's an asshole, so I wouldn't do that either. And no, it's not okay to call me cousin. I came here to get away from family, not to be hassled by them." I almost winced at how sharp and harsh my voice was, but I couldn't help it. The kid was a walking oxymoron. His voice was chirpy and enthusiastic, but he wore full black clothing, a shirt with a faded Marvel tagline stressed in the middle, ripped jeans and a side fringe that covered one of his eyes.

Nico's smile faulted slightly, before he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks were tainted a pale pink, embarrassed by her beady eyes. "Sorry Annabeth." He purposely emphasised her name, before slipping the name card under his arm. "Would you like me to take your bag?"

Swiftly, I raised a hand in front of him; gripping the only thing of him I had of home tightly. "It's fine. Just get me out of here. Does it always smell like this?"

At that, Nico chuckled. "You get use to it. Come on; let's get out of here. Too many guns," He stared at one of the soldiers, and mock saluted, before leading the way out of the airport.

The smell outside was even worse. "Shit," I swore, covering my nose with my sleeve. "You're right," Nico grinned, seeming unaffected by the smell of the countryside. He commented, "Your accents weird."

"I could say the same thing, Your Highness."

He turned towards her with a cheeky grin on his face, as he led me past the parking lot.

"Where's the car? Are we walking?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Nico rolled his eyes, as if he expected me to know everything as soon as I stepped off the plane. "We live on some farmland on the outskirts of Cornwall, it's about an hour's drive from here."

"So, are we hitchhiking?" Sarcasm dripped from my voice, as I struggled to lift my suitcase above the fence that lined the edge of the parking lot.

"Nah, I've got a car, well more of a truck. But the parking here is a bloody rip off, £15 an hour, who has that kind of fucking money?" He turned back, noticing Annabeth's struggle and held her arm as she jumped over the fence.

"Please tell me you're older than you look and have a fucking license. You look like your twelve."

"Fourteen actually," He mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest in a supposed display of 'masculinity'. "And I've been driving the truck since I was five. Besides, nobody actually checks if we've got a licence anyway."

He must have seen my alarmed expression because he burst out into a fit of chuckles. "I'm just pulling your leg, calm down, I'm not driving. We better hurry up though, Percy tends to get impatient."

"Percy?" I questioned, not hiding the humour out of my voice as I repeated the name in my head. Granted, I couldn't talk much, Annabeth isn't even a real name. "Is he Sally's oldest?"

"Yeah," Nico nodded, ending up pulling my suitcase from me, as I struggled to tighten the duffle bag across my shoulder. "He's my older brother, well, half-brother. But don't mention that to Percy. His dad's a bit of dick."

I scoffed a bit. "I can understand his sentiments."

"Oi kids! Where you think your going?" There were two soldiers walking towards them, guns poised to the ground. Nico seemed to have frozen in front of me, as a fear started to bubble inside my chest.

They couldn't have been much older than me, maybe not even older than Nico. One was taller than the other, and walked with a limp. The other had a shock of scarlet hair, and a permanent sneer across his face. His accent was different to Nico's too, more harsher. They were both clad in the standard army uniform, albeit they were ill fitted. I couldn't stop the narrowing of my eyes as his gaze wandered around my body. Just as I was about to open my mouth with a witty remark, a deep voice came from behind me.

"Nothing, sir. We're just on our way home now." The voice was dark and commanding, an accent similar to Nico's filling my ears.

An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a hard body. The two soldiers seemed to recognise the source of the voice, and glared at him. But they seemed to know to back off, turning away with a cock of their gun. Warmth flooded my stomach, twisting it into knots as the arm tightened around me. We turned around and followed Nico who seemed to have relaxed and grinned up at our saviour.

"Bunch of bloody idiots thinking they're the shit because of some guns." His voice sent chills through my body, as I glanced up at the man. His eyes met mine; a shocking colour that I couldn't decide was either green or blue. They were such an unusual colour. I wouldn't mind drowning in them. He sent a cheeky smirk to me, as if he could read my thoughts, before turning to Nico.

"You took your bloody time, didn't you? I had a nice nap waiting for your lazy ass to get here."

Recognition flooded through me. "You're Percy, Nico's older brother." I almost cheered at how stable my voice sounded.

He sent me a smile that sent me quivering inside again, slipping my duffle bag from my shoulder and relinquishing his grip on my waist. "When Mum said you'd be coming over, I never thought you'd be quiet like this Miss Chase." His eyes trailed over my face, almost as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

Nico rolled his eyes at his brother, before leading us to the parked truck, which was hidden behind overgrown bushes. He rushed forward, hauling my suitcase into the bed of the truck as he lifted the tailgate up. "I call the back!" He grinned, jumping in after my suitcase. Percy threw him my duffle bag, before turning to face me. He held his arm out for me.

There seemed to be a mutual understanding that flew between us, as both of our eyes roamed each other. It was here that I finally had a better look at the boy.

Ink-like raven hair, darker than Nico's chocolate strands, fell around his face in almost sea-like waves. His face was surprisingly tanned considering the English weather. It seemed like all his limbs were long, he towered over even me, someone who had been blessed in the height department. And his body- sturdy and lean from hours of manual labour, it seemed taunt and radiated power. His strong hands turned towards the truck's door, opening it as he looked down at me, those strange shades of green darkening as he caught my eye.

"Ladies' first," His voice was barely a whisper, deep enough to cause a small blush to settle on my cheeks.

I was suddenly grateful that I actually wasn't related to the Sally.