Her hair whips around her face as she laughs, a sound full of mirth.
She is always laughing, always looking so alive. Her toes leave imprints on the sand as she dances around with unbelievable grace, twirling and pirouetting, her dress catching the wind, shimmering, being played around by the morning breeze.
She is not only happy by herself, but it always finds a way to seep in through you, too, so you would be running and laughing and twirling and smiling just like her.
She stops, although it is difficult to tell if she is tired at all. Something has called her attention.
She skips towards the object and stoops. A blond curl falls loose from its blue hair tie, her favorite color.
When she straightens again, she has a pink seashell in her small hand.
Her eyes, the shame shade of green as her father's, stares up at her as she (of course) smiles and asks her mother if she can keep it. It must have been the umpteenth time she has kept a shell, but still her mother says that yes, she can. How could anyone say no to those baby-seal pleading eyes?
She hands the shell to her, then twirls in her place and continues to explore the Long Island beach.
Percy chuckles behind her. "You would think we have never brought her here," he says to Annabeth as his hands wrap around her, his wife.
He kisses the nape of her neck as she mumbles, "Mmm. But it's only the second time, right? She's still exploring". Their daughter stoops again, nearer the surf this time.
Percy's hands are now on her wife's pregnant belly. Tracing patterns absentmindedly, instead of answering, he says, "She's going to pick up all of the beach's shells again, isn't she?"
Annabeth nods. "Reminds you of someone?"
Percy glares at her, and she laughs at his expression. Percy always brought home at least fifteen different shells.
"I swear that with each passing year, she looks more and more like you," Percy murmurs against her hair, ignoring her tease.
"Lucky girl," Annabeth tries again.
Percy winks at her. "She is."
She looks into Percy's eyes, surprised by his flirty attitude. She leans closer and plants a kiss on the corner of his lips, smiling to herself.
Percy frowns, grabbing her elbow. "I do believe you missed," he states before capturing her lips in his.
A squeal from their daughter brings them back to reality. They both search the beach frantically with their gaze, until finally finding her.
She is standing on the surf, the water knee-length, looking with adoration at the three hippocampi.
A slow smile spreads through her face, lighting it up. She looks at Annabeth, then at Percy, as if saying, "Can you believe it?"
Both of her parents smile back at her. Percy looks at Annabeth and she says, "Go with her. I'll stay here, if you don't mind." Percy knows it isn't a question, but an order.
She has been spending too much time with Reyna, he thinks as he makes his way through the shallow surf and next to his daughter.
The sun is setting. Annabeth watches as her husband's and daughter's figures silhouette against the sun's fading golden glow, and she sighs happily.
But she is not alone. She hears the sound of footsteps coming closer, but she just relaxes against a big rock, the same in which they had fallen asleep once after Tartarus. She knows who it is.
Thalia silently sits next to her, eyes her happy expression as she herself smiles.
She follows Annabeth's gaze to the two figures, the tallest one now trying to get his daughter aboard the biggest of the hippocampi.
"I guess you found your happy ever after, huh?" Thalia asks her. It's an old joke between the two of them now.
The sound of the little girl's mirthful laugh reaches their ears as Annabeth answers, "I did." But then she adds, "Who would have thought it would be with the guy who drools in his sleep?" She is recalling that first conversation, getting lost once again on a not so distant memory, and she chuckles to herself.
Who would have thought.