There she was for an instant, staring at the broken body of her friend.
And just like that, the instant was swept away through the winds of celebration that coursed through Olympus. Light streamed in and loud shouts of celebration pierced the air; out of nowhere, trees blossomed with fruit and flowers, and birds chirped in the air. Naiads dressed in pastel gowns, prancing around handing around silver platters of food as the whimsical music floated through the golden gates, as if out of a Disney movie. She looked up, as a brightly smiling Naiad, with a blinding assortment of flowers in her locks, tapped her on the shoulder.
Annabeth accepted the pastry, a tiny lotus cake with a gravity-defying amount of sugar clinging onto it, and stared at it. Her eyes ran over the ridges of the dessert, carefully dissecting the architecture in her mind. Anything to forget.
There are six petals, six petals which curve inwards to touch. What is the optimal slope to let the petals droop so that they aren't too straight, but also don't fall off? How tall should-
"Hey, Hermes wants to speak to you."
She looked up, distracted from her furious analysis of pastry infrastructure, to find Percy looking worriedly down at her.
She hastily threw on a grin. "Just give me a sec, Seaweed Brain."
Percy nodded and stepped back, though Annabeth saw him in the corner of her eye, fidgeting nervously. She turned back to her cake, nibbling slowly as she composed her thoughts.
Annabeth closed her eyes and focused. Although many, including her boyfriend, thought children of Athena had no powers aside from being smart, smart was much too simple a word. Instead, she concentrated, and a glowing web, formed by interlocking neon-colored strands, formed in her mind. Along each strand, she quickly plotted each of the potential things Hermes could want from her. It wasn't quite prophecy, but she could gather her thoughts and plan for any occasion. What could he want to talk about?
The strands connected at the end, twisting and weaving into one blurred face.
She opened her eyes, quickly stuffing the cake into her mouth and sneakily wiping her eyes with her sleeve, before standing up and heading over to Percy.
As they walked, Percy spoke less than usual, every so often looking over at her with a concerned expression. He was worried, she knew that. She made sure to meet his eyes every time, smiling softly to reassure him. After all, Percy was happy, and she didn't want to ruin that.
And she was happy too, right?
"Lord Hermes," she heard Percy say.
Ahead of her, standing next to a column so that she almost didn't notice him, was Hermes himself. She hastily bowed.
She looked up again, and almost fell down. It was a trick of the light, that was for sure. Maybe one of those stupid glowing finches Hera had made appear, casting down light on Hermes' face, but there was a light streak on his cheek. He looked almost exactly like his son, except his eyes were olive instead of blue.
She felt Percy's hand clench around hers, and rub circles into her palm with his thumb.
"Annabeth." He nodded at her. "Did you kill Luke?" He posed a question, but it lacked that lilt of curiosity that questions had, instead a dull monotone as if he knew the answer already.
She stared down at her feet. "Yes, sir."
Hermes sighed. "Well, congratulations. You saved Olympus. You saved me."
"Yeah, I guess. Is that it?"
"Yep." Hermes grinned at her, and she smiled back. Percy finally stopped drawing circles onto her palm, and started beaming, looking at both of them in turn, as if he couldn't believe they were all finally happy.
They walked back towards the party, hand in hand. Percy had reanimated into his normal self again, blathering a chain of nonsensical thoughts.
"And now that we're all happy, we can finally go on that date. I was talking to Apollo; he said he would give us a lift to anywhere in the world we wanted. How about Paris? I know you really like the Eiffel Tower, don't lie to me…"
She zoned him out, making sure to smile the entire time.
Happy. She was, happy. She repeated the word in her mind, over and over again, as if that would somehow make her believe. Happy, happy, happy.
But she saw Hermes, and she knew that face all too well. It had been looking back at her from the reflection in the fountain; eyes open a bit too wide, already-worn smile stretched too thin, responding to everything with too much joy.
The gods may have had their flaws, but even she had to admit; each one of them would be amazing US Senators, solely based on their ability to filibuster for hours, exaggerating every single detail. Somehow, Hades and Poseidon had the shortest speeches, with the former explaining his involvement succinctly: "We came, they died.", before sitting back down.
Instead, she was forced to sit next to Percy, politely applauding and smiling at every overdramatized story. Ares and his spears, one of which apparently hit so perfectly that Typhon stumbled, and that was what let Poseidon capture him. Apollo, who claimed his arrows pierced Typhon's skin perfectly, which caused Artemis to stand up and protest, because Gods forbid they could both be good archers.
But at the end of the day, even among all the fighting, the gods could agree on one thing- they were happy at their victory. Kronos was dead, shattered into tiny chunks impossible to reform.
They were happy. The wicked had fallen, smited by children of the gods.
As the day faded into night, Annabeth managed to slip away from Percy, who was doing a drunken dance-off with Grover and a few of the Party Ponies.
She wandered, not really going anywhere. Just away from the lights, from the partygoers and the happiness.
In the moonlight, Olympus was breathtaking. The shadows mixed and matched, casting different overlapping shades of gray over polished white columns. Beneath her, the city of New York lit up, a million lives flickering in the twilight.
She walked past temple after temple, over rippling brooks. It didn't matter where she was going, tomorrow she'd find Percy passed out in the courtyard, and they'd go back to Camp, and everyone would throw another party there and they'd be happy. But for now, it was just her.
Always the good girl, her mother's voice sounded in her mind. True, she was the good one, wasn't she? Always eager to help and to teach, to protect and to serve. She was adored by campers and mortals alike; even her school teachers thought her a model student, a truly rare feat amongst demigods. She was good. Because, after all, why wouldn't she be?
And Luke, well, he was bad. Wicked, even. He chose to join darkness and chaos and evil, to betray his friends and family, and so he was punished. And now, he would rest in punishment, probably in the depths of Tartarus along his master. No one would ever lay a lily on his grave; instead, if he got one at all, it would be hidden away in some remote corner, or instead placed in plain sight as if a warning.
She felt the ground begin to swirl, and fell, only to feel a light warmth underneath her. She opened her eyes again.
Before her, sat a young girl, tending a fireplace. A very familiar one, who looked about seven, with ragged blonde hair and feral gray eyes.
Annabeth reached out a finger to stroke her face. It couldn't be her…
"My child, sit down." The girl spoke with a voice much older than her age, and Annabeth immediately recognized her, although she couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. If only she could warn her heart, before she fell.
She bowed. "Lady Hestia."
The girl smiled and motioned for Annabeth to sit next to her.
"You are lost, no? Why would the heroine of Olympus be away from the party, stumbling ragged through the gardens?"
Annabeth looked at the fire, not speaking. Inside, the flames flickered in a chaotic dance, pushing and tugging on each other, and yet they all reached towards the heavens above.
"I don't know. I'm happy."
"Are you? I thought you were brave."
Annabeth looked up. It was definitely uncharacteristic of Hestia, but the little girl was staring fiercely at her. Did she really look like that before?
"It's brave to visit the past, to confront your mistakes. To admit that you aren't happy, that whatever innocence bestowed on you has been shredded into pieces- that is brave. Are you?"
She held out a finger to the fire, and the fire turned clear, only outlined by a flickering red glow. Inside, images flickered as if from an old-movie. Two girls, a guy, laughing about something over a fireplace. The dark interior of a metal can, as the sound of footsteps approached. A sun-bathed hill, the grass drenched with blood.
Annabeth closed her eyes, moving her hand forward until the flames tickled her fingers. She knew, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, she would hear the stories of that day told over and over again, until Percy got tired of telling them (unlikely) or until the truth was stretched so far that people stopped listening. And that there would be celebrations, ceremonies, because they had won. Good had won, and the wicked were vanquished. That would be then.
But for now, she mourns the wicked.