Inspired by an old fiction that I read a while back. I'll be updating this whenever I'm bored, so I wouldn't expect a tight schedule.
"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."
~Cormac McCarthy
Percy
Bob's attacks grew slower, and slower as the battle drew on. The titan gave his all, but his attacks were ineffective at best, while Tartarus seemed to grow more proficient as the fight continued. Small Bob leapt at the dark, hunkering mass, but Tartarus merely swatted him aside as if he was nothing. Bob charged, the sight of his best friend being hurt filling him with rage. It proved in vain, however, the God wrenching his spear right from his grip, kicking the dazed Bob to his knees.
"Yield!" the Pit bellowed, levelling Bob's own weapon to his head.
The titan looked up, his face resolute, but his breathing haggard, and pained. He was defeated, and Percy knew it. His fingers slipped between Annabeth's, and he squeezed her hand tightly, reaffirming that he was, in fact, there with her.
"I will not," he said. "You are not my master."
He raised Bob's spear, growling as he did so, which made the ground shake and the air vibrate. "Die in defiance then!" he shouted, before thrusting the spear downwards, straight into Bob's defenceless head, before he had any time to react. Percy forced his eyes shut, tears forcing their way out from beneath the vice. He heard Annabeth choke out a sob beside him, and then a heavy thud before the familiar sound of a body dissolving into golden dust filled his ears. He wanted nothing more at that moment to charge at Tartarus, release the pent up rage, make him pay, but his rationale remained in check, and his legs remained rooted to the spot, unmoving.
In the distance, a horn sounded, signalling the arrival of the next wave of monsters, and at that point, he felt utterly without hope. They had failed. Bob's valiant sacrifice would be for nothing, Gaia would likely rise; only they wouldn't be around to see it.
He turned to Annabeth, their eyes meeting. There was a small part of him that wanted to make her get in the elevator, but even he knew there was no way he could hold off Tartarus for even one minute, let alone twelve. He tried to give a small smile, but his lips wouldn't obey his commands. He was too emotionally drained at that point, and he suspected Annabeth was the same. Despite that, she still looked gorgeous, even with the mud stained face, and tear streaked cheeks. In fact, he had never loved her more than he did at that point.
"Together?" she asked him.
"Together," he confirmed. At least they would die side by side, as grisly as that sounded in his mind.
He turned back to Tartarus, who stood triumphantly about 100 metres to their front. He was about to muster a final war cry, and charge, but cries, and not of conquest, rippled through the monster army. In the haze, Percy heard howls of pain, shrieks of hurt, and a persistent boom, boom, boom that was too fast to be a natural tremor – more like the sound Mrs. O'Leary made when she charged him at full pelt, hell bent on giving him a slobbery shower. An Earthborn flew into the air, almost comically, as if he had been tossed. A cloud of bright-green mist flowed across the horde of monsters, everything it touched, instantly dissolving in a pool of gooey liquid.
Across the newly cleared open ground, appeared the cause of the pandemonium, and Percy couldn't help but grin.
The Maeonian snaked forward; hissing as it went and spitting more, and more acid into the monster ranks. It whipped its tail around, and several Cyclopes went flying across the void. On its back was a red-skinned giant, flowers adorning his rust-coloured braids, and his drakon rib lance in hand. Percy had never been more elated at the sudden appearance of a Giant before.
"Damasen!" Annabeth cried.
Said giant tipped his head. "Annabeth Chase, I took your advice. I chose myself a new fate."
Tartarus didn't take the appearance of his estranged son very well. "What is this? Why have you come, my disgraced son?" he hissed.
"Father, perhaps you desire a more worthy opponent?" the Giant asked the Pit calmly. "You wished me to be more warlike? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!"
He raised his lance and lunged. Monster reinforcements attempted to swarm him, but the now tame Maeonian drakon flattened them with ease with its enormous tail, and acidic breathe. Percy pitched in where he could, the monsters receiving a 'Cocytus-Lethe-Styx Shower Supreme' which left many half vaporised, and half distraught, but he was beginning to see the futility of their situation. Damasen wouldn't be able to defeat Tartarus, so he was only playing for time, but there was no-one else around to hold the elevator button.
He dispatched a squad of Scythian Dracaenas who had attempted to flank around Damasen's rear with water from the River Lethe, before pausing and turning to Annabeth. She was just out of his physical reach, fighting like a demon against a squad of Cyclopes who had the misfortune of stepping into her line of sight. With one final swing of her drakon bone sword, the last of the Cyclopes fell, and she turned, looking for yet more targets to end. He quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her into his embrace. It took her completely by surprise, and he was almost afraid she would judo-flip him again, but whether out of exhaustion, she didn't, only staring up at him with those big, stormy gray eyes that he adored.
"I love you," he said, before meeting her lips with his own, in one last passion filled kiss that he hoped she would remember him by. They withdrew from each other's embrace after a few seconds, far too soon in Perseus's opinion. She reciprocated his love crazed look, though, which only made what he was about to do even more difficult than it already was.
"I lo-" she started, but he gave her no time to respond. He had made his decision, but there was no way she'd love him after it. He quickly brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of her head. She immediately collapsed, out cold, and it took some of his last energy reserves to muster enough strength to catch and hold onto her.
Praying the monsters would be kind enough not to stab him in the back, he dragged her unconscious form into the elevator. A tiny part of him felt guilty about what he was doing, but the rest was completely at peace. This is for her, he kept telling himself, both aloud and in his mind.
He collapsed on top of her from the exertion, the faint smell of lemon shampoo still somehow present. He smiled inexplicably at the memories the aroma triggered, before giving her a final kiss, this time on her forehead, and retreating from the elevator. He didn't look back, mostly out of fear he would break down, but partly because looking back would be an admission of regret, and that was one thing he refused to feel. In a Hollywood-esque cliché, he silently promised himself he wouldn't cry, though the exhaustion, and the emotional torment he was suffering from was in danger of catching up to him. This is for her, again, he told himself, before pressing the button, sealing his fate.
Holding the button was harder than it sounded and he vaguely recalled seeing several people do something very similar to a car when he was little, though they had to hold it for hours, instead of minutes. They didn't have monsters hacking away at them with very pointy swords, in fairness.
Admittedly, he vainly thought about how he would be remembered, while his hand remained planted on the small 'up' button. Would there be songs sung about him? Maybe a flattering statue of his likeness on Olympus, perhaps?
The Maeonian drakon, meanwhile, was making short work of the monsters that dared get in its way, while the battle between Tartarus and Damasen was a sight to behold. The giant, despite being, well, a giant, lithely danced around the Pit, cutting him where he could, but in actuality, doing little more than making him mad. The few monsters that did dare attack Percy were swiftly cut down. Even with diminished strength, they proved to be completely inept at taking him on. At that point, though, he was running on nothing but willpower.
Ding.
He turned. The little arrow on the elevator was pointing to the extreme right. The 12 minutes were up. He hoped Nico had kept his promise. He hoped they would be there at the entrance, there to ensure Annabeth's safety. No. He knew they would be there. They had to be. Fate had a funny sense of humour, but surely it wasn't that cruel? A few seconds passed, and then poof, the elevator disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. It was over, for the third time in several hours, it was over. This time, truly. A massive, invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. Annabeth was safe. She'd have a bump on her head in the morning, but she was safe, and that's all that mattered.
He turned back to the battle, just in time to see the Maeonian drakon brought down by no less than 100 Earthborn, who had jumped on it, creating one massive doggy pile. The drakon roared on, thrashing, doing its best to throw the attackers off, but they would not relent. They stabbed at it continuously with their comparatively pin-like weapons. It proved too much for the beast. With one final jet of acid, it dissolved into a large pile golden dust that whirled away in the subterranean winds, no doubt towards the swamp where it would probably reform in a matter of days.
It had done a number on the monster army. Almost everywhere he looked the ground was covered in a thin layer of golden dust that slowly began to dissipate. In fact, the only place that wasn't covered was the area around Tartarus himself. Damasen was still frustrating the Pit, but he had slowed considerably. He charged at one of Tartarus's crane sized legs, only to feint at the last second, and change direction. The Pit saw through it though, and managed to bring his fist around just in time for Damasen to smash into it. He stood rooted to the spot, dazed, and Tartarus immediately seized upon the opportunity, enclosing an enormous scoop like hand around his son's neck and raising the Giant up so that his feet would no longer touch the ground. The purple, hunkering mass brought the Giant before his terrifying, swirling pool of darkness, where a normal face should have been.
"Nothing but a disappointment, even now as you stand before me, defeated. Death is too easy for you, son. Bask in the void!" the Pit thundered, before immediately forcing the helpless Damasen inside, resulting in a spectacular cloud of red-black smoke. The giant didn't even have time to scream.
Percy bowed his head at the loss of his brave friend, a sacrifice that the 6 would have to make good by. He so wanted to join the fight, to have one last hurrah, but his body was broken, and unwilling.
Tartarus turned to him, and remnants of the monster army gathered behind to form a picture that was more at home in a Lord of the Rings novel, instead of the real world. The pit caught sight of, or rather, noticed the absence of the elevator, his huge fists clenching in response.
Percy sunk to his knee's, finally succumbing to exhaustion, dropping Riptide in the process which hit the ground with a resounding, and unnatural clunk which resonated around the yawning chasm, almost as if to proclaim Percy Jackson's capitulation to the world.
"You are brave, Perseus Jackson. You think you have won here today, but you haven't. All the giants have risen, and Gaia will rise on schedule. There will simply be one less pesky mortal around to see it," the Pit said, strolling up to him in an almost casual fashion, ripped purple skin glistening in the humidity.
Percy raised his head and stared into the swirling abyss matted upon Tartarus's shoulders. It was terrifying, yes, but was Percy scared? No. He wasn't frightened anymore. The fear he had felt earlier a reaction to the thought of never leaving the place, to the thought of failure. Annabeth was safe, the doors had relocated. He had fulfilled his fate, and had come to terms with it. There simply wasn't nothing to be scared of anymore…unless Hades decided to play a sick joke and send him to the Fields of Punishment upon his departure. That seemed unlikely, though.
"You know, I wish I would be alive to see your face when you find out that your wife was defeated by 6 resilient mortals. Shame you don't have one, isn't it?" he sarked, throwing all sense out the window.
The Pit laughed, or at least, Percy thought he was laughing. Really, it sounded like a lawnmower that had been sent through a field of rusty, metal chains.
"Do you have any last words, Perseus Jackson?" the Pit bellowed in his 'indoor voice' which was still 50 decibels too loud.
Of the 17, or so, years Percy was alive on planet Earth, there were few things he truly felt guilty about. Bianca's death was top dog, of course, but his slightly underwhelming 'out' was beginning to creep up the list. He had always thought he would die in his sleep, Annabeth in his arms, or failing that, in one humongous explosion, preferably taking Justin Bieber with him.
"It's just Percy," he responded, without hesitation. A mental image of his grave stone popped into his head, at that rather appropriate time. "Percy Jackson – Irritating to the very end." It read.
Tartarus brought the spear down, straight into his heart. You know how they say your life flashes before your very eyes just before you die? It happened.
His birth, his childhood, his mother, his father, his first quest, his last quest, his friends, and then finally, Annabeth.
And with one final puff of air, he departed the realm of the living, the image of Annabeth implanted firmly in his mind.
This was heavily centred around a chapter from The House of Hades, so yes, the author may own the order of some words. I guess this more light hearted, than a proper, dark, emotional scene. Tell me what you think, or don't, and I may see you later, or I won't. Pairing is undecided at this stage.
