Disclaimer: If you think that I truly own this stuff, then you're obviously missing some very important aspects of the books. This. Is. Not. Mine.
And lose a love to worse than death.
The last line of the prophecy kept running through her head, on an endless loop. No matter how loudly she screamed inside her head, it wouldn't shut up.
And lose a love to worse than death.
She'd been so confused this past year . . . the first thought that always sprang into her head when she thought of the word love was Luke. Luke and Thalia and the family that they'd built.
But mostly Luke.
But lately . . .
Lately, things had been changing.
And lose a love to worse than death.
And Percy wasn't back yet. She'd gone closer to the forge, to the pool of fire, to see what was going on, and when she came back . . . he'd disappeared.
And lose a love to worse than death.
Her breath came quicker, in little gasps.
Think! She told herself. What could be worse than death in this situation? In this case, death is the worst thing possible. Right?
But if these creatures (and she couldn't place what they were, which upset her a little bit, because she thought she knew all the Greek myths by heart – but then again, with the stress of this prophecy, who could blame her?) were working for Kronos, then there could be things much worse than death. Torture. Brainwashing. Being forced to serve the Titan.
It's enough that Luke joined their side, she thought desperately. Please, don't let them take Percy, too.
"Annabeth!"
At the sound of his voice, a wave of relief such as she'd never known flushed through her, making her weak at the knees. But – what was he doing? He was going to blow their cover!
She turned and saw him, running and disheveled, and tackled him. Pressing her hand to his mouth to shut him up, she ignored the blush rising in her cheeks and shoved him down behind the conveniently-placed bronze cauldron. His hand flailed in midair for a moment – she winced as it whipped her across the cheek – and finally found her head, pulling off her cap. She felt a few strands of hair rip out, but it wasn't important right now.
Hopefully her flaming cheeks could be passed off as the heat. She glared at him. "Percy, what is your problem?"
"We're going to have company!" he gasped. "There are these monsters – tele-somethings – and they're learning how to make weapons for Kronos! There was this really stupid film" – he snorted for a moment, but then became serious again – "explaining things about how the gods are evil . . ." His voice trailed off.
Telekhines. How could she have forgotten about them? "So that's what they are," she breathed. "Telekhines. I should have known." She bit her lip, but he had to know. "And they're making . . . Well, look." She pointed over to the forge, where the telekhines were still talking about fusing metals . . . she still didn't understand that, which, as a child of Athena, bothered her.
"What is that?" whispered Percy. Clearly he was feeling the same unnatural chills that she was at the sight.
She just shook her head, but an awful theory was beginning to form. "They keep talking about fusing metals," she breathed, the suspicion beginning to take shape. "I wonder" – but she broke off. The theory was too awful to say out loud.
"They were talking about the greatest Titan weapon," Percy mentioned, only causing her awful feeling to intensify, along with the dread that something was going to happen soon. Percy continued. "And they . . . they said they made my father's trident."
She quickly explained the myth she had somehow forgotten – about the dark magic and the telekhines' banishment to Tartarus.
"With Kronos," whispered Percy, horror filling his face.
That premonition of dread was growing stronger, and she was starting to hear footsteps. The awful words rushed through her head again. And lose a love to worse than death.
"We have to get out" – she gasped, as the door flew open and a wave of monsters surged through.
"Put your cap back on," said Percy, and she could only stare. Was he telling her to leave?
And lose a love to worse than death.
"What?" She'd meant to be quiet, but the word was closer to a wail. "No! I'm not leaving you!"
"I've got a plan. I'll distract them." But what if he died in the attempt? "You can use the metal spider – maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on."
But if she left right now – left without helping him – then that might be giving the prophecy a chance to come true. The words were coming faster now. And lose a love to worse than death.
"But you'll be killed!" The words left her in a kind of strangled gasp. Or worse, taunted her subconscious. She felt tears welling in her eyes against her will.
"I'll be fine."
And lose a love to worse than death. No, you won't! She wanted to shriek, but she couldn't.
"And besides, we've got no choice."
Curse the Seaweed Brain for turning her own weapon – intelligence, strategy, planning – against her. She couldn't argue with that.
And lose a love to worse than death.
Her blood thundered in her ears.
All she knew was that if this was the fulfillment of the prophecy – there would be nothing she could do about it, nothing. Nothing. Except –
She had to do it. She knew it. She met his eyes – the green ones glowing with intensity and something else – but she didn't have time for the natural reaction, the blush, the fear, the uncertainty. All she felt was a sort of ringing in her ears and a voice that said, You've got nothing to lose. And so she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him toward her, and kissed him hard.
For one second, two seconds, her eyes fluttered closed, and then she pulled away and locked eyes with him again. His were stunned, a bit glazed over, and his face was glowing red. But he wasn't screaming at her, which she took as a good sign.
And lose a love to worse than death.
"Be careful, Seaweed Brain," she said, with a kind of desperate intensity in her voice. And then she jammed her baseball cap back on her head and relaxed, relieved that he couldn't see her blush.
She saw the telekhines rush him, but she couldn't stay. He was right about one thing – she had to go warn Hephaestus. Hating herself for it, she whipped around and ran, casting only one last glance over her shoulder to watch Percy running for the fire.
And lose a love to worse than death.
"Please," she whispered, in a soft exhale. "Please, let him be okay. Let me see him again."
And lose a love to worse than death.
And then, as soon as she ran out the door, the air was split by a ripping, bloodcurdling, agonized scream.