Oh, why hello there.
This is my first story, so be nice. D: Other than that, enjoy. And I'm sorry I killed Annabeth, but I had to make the story interesting?
Darn. The paragraphs won't indent. ): Well, I tried.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. So, yeah.
A N N A B E T H ' S P O V
At that very moment that I was about to die, ironically, I thought of life. A deep subject that made me as confused as ever as I delved within its murky secrets, a surface that not even the greatest minds had been able to penetrate. Perhaps if I had just a little more time in my life, I might have surveyed the massive idea and be able to derive a insightful interpretation of it, one that might have wormed itself into the very heart of future biographies of myself. I was sure that if I contemplated it long enough, a satisfactory answer that suited the guidelines of it would suddenly surface – but now, there was no time for me to do nothing but wistfully dream, dream about the things that I could have accomplished and the things that I could have done, but never thought of doing. Dying is a spastic thing, the abnormal thoughts and how they vary for all.
Not unexpectedly, a feeling of regret, remorse, even resent at the Fates for having done this to me, stripping me of my very world. And soon, my thoughts transferred to nothingness as I sunk deeper into the damp ground, the specks of dirt separated from one another by my blood gushing out from numerous wounds; I no longer had the strength or the will to do much. And the pain of their claws, their swords slashing at my skin subsequently hit me, and I gave a weak cry of pain, though I am also sure that it was not audible. The assault against me continued, but soon I wasn't able to feel that anymore.
"Annabeth!" A cry of desperation resonated from an area far away from where I was located, my chest heaving for air. I could hear it, and it was clearer to me than the excited grunts of my attackers, ringing like a bell in the mist. "Annabeth, no!" It cried again, hopelessness flooding the tone, cracking from sorrow. It was closer now, and I could hear the thumping of feet.
It was Percy. I strained to tell him to leave, but my mouth refused to move, defying my thoughts. I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, slashing with an infuriated air at the monsters surrounding me. Whether they ceased to torture me, I never knew. All I knew was that he had abruptly knelt at my side, hyperventilating and begging for me not to die, not to leave him.
I heard nothing, but I saw his beautiful face, contorted by desolation and grief etched in every line on it. And in this moment, seeing him suffer, a motivation to tell him to discard his angst filled me; it was the least I could do for him, to provide him with one less torment after I left. It took all my remaining strength and willpower to open my mouth to speak.
"Don't be sad," I croaked hoarsely. Still, tears rolled down his cheeks and a few splattered against my face – I could tell I needed to strive harder for it to be effective. "…I … love … you," I spluttered and blood and saliva dribbled down my chin.
"Shhh," he shushed softly, infatuatedly with a passionate tone that I hadn't yet heard from even him. "Don't talk," he said and cradled my head in trembling hands, but I could tell that he was holding his breath from the waves of sobs that racked him. I could feel the mixture of blood and spit being wiped lightly from my jaw line, but more lukewarm tears splattered the area.
I doubt that I could have even talked if I tried again, so I complied with his request, shutting my mouth closed. . I could feel the mixture of blood and spit being wiped lightly from my jaw line, but more lukewarm tears splattered the area, but eventually all this faded into nothingness. Only after this had I realized that I had closed my eyes automatically as the organs in my body slowed, their functions preparing to be stopped. Carelessly, I wondered if death would hurt.
Well, it didn't. I would have never even taken notice that it had occurred had it not been for my pounding heart, finally giving a weak shudder and then finally stopping completely.
I could feel him, shortly before this, pressing his lips to mine and giving me a last kiss – token of his love for me. Well, at least I had gone down fighting, which was always my plan. Perhaps I would still be a demigod in my next life, since I planned on rebirth as well.
As I felt my very consciousness leaving my body, fluttering away like a dove that had been confined to a cage, my last thought reached me. It was a suitable one, an absentminded reverie that summarized all the thoughts rather effectively for only one sentence.
Te amo, Percy. I love you. And then everything vanished, even the sounds of the battle going around me that had drowned out most sounds so far as I left this life for eternity.
Waking up was like dousing myself in ice water, refreshing me as I gave a gasp. But it came out in a whispery tone, as quiet as the wind that mournfully whistled; it was the voice of the dead. Through my blurred vision I could see a man, Charon, draped in a dark cloak instead of his Italian suits gesture toward the boats docked near the waiting room, where many souls waited for an infinitely long time.
His voice was dark, even dreadful as it struck a level of fear that I had never felt previously into me. "Come. Your mother has requested your free passage, and I have acted accordingly.
As I glided towards the stationed boat, I could see the longing, envious faces of the others as their outstretched hands reached for me – as if I could take them as my companions. To be honest, I felt pity for them. But I boarded the boat, which was surprisingly steady with quite a few others: old, middle-aged, even a few children no older than four. Thankfully, they said nothing to me, albeit I also said nothing to them.
The boat rocked back and forth as Charon navigated it, but I no longer felt nausea; being part of the dead seemed to have deprived me of all human sensations. Trying to ignore the tortures displayed on the trip, the lost dreams swirling around in the Styx, we soon arrived at the gates where Cerberus stood guard. He seemed to recognize me, and wagged his tail eagerly as I passed underneath him, but I had nothing more to offer; everything had already been taken away from me.
I decided to walk towards the area where the judges on duty may adjudicate my life, after all, I had done nothing worthy of being punished, hadn't I? A man that I recognized as King Minos, another as the great poet and author Shakespeare, and Beethoven sat before me, looking almost bored, except for Minos. He gave me a ghastly smile that made me shudder. Perhaps he knew me as Nico's friend, the very one who he had failed to manipulate. After betraying the gods, I wondered to myself why he was still on duty.
"Case number two hundred forty-seven trillion, three hundred seventy-two," Shakespeare droned in a musical voice, though he still sounded as if he would rather be someone else; it was odd, his voice was beautiful - rich and clear - yet he sounded utterly lifeless. "Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena." He peered at me closely.
The rest was rather boring, save a lengthy argument between Beethoven and King Minos. They argued about whether I should go to the Field of Punishment or Elysium. Beethoven, thankfully, won the debate after Shakespeare stepped in, saying that my list of accomplishments and duties for Olympus was impressive. Minos stopped his protests, but looked resentful, and I shuddered as I thought of the tortures he could have planned for me if he had gotten his way.
But after they released me, I traipsed towards Elysium and laughter filled the air, greenery and items that reminded me of better times. It was wonderful, and I sat onto the grass, staring at the Isles of the Blest with longing, I was sure, present on my face.
Soon, though, a security guard delivered an old-fashioned scroll to me, made of thick parchment with speed that not even Grover in the presence of enchiladas could rival. I stared at it with stunned eyes and made one of the hardest decisions I had ever made. I could choose to be reborn, but not necessarily see Percy ever again. Or I could wait for him. Indecision filled me and I glanced nervously from side to side. The guard seemed patient, but he must have had a lot of time, seeing that the Underworld was rather boring.
Ultimately, I checked the box 'Rebirth' with a pen that I could actually hold –perhaps it was specially made? - And handed it back to the guard with a shaky smile, wondering if I had made the right choice. As he glanced over my paper, he pointed towards a darker place of the Underworld, the river that souls would go to erase their memories before rebirth – the River Lethe.
I stared at it with a frown on my face as another conflict presented itself to me; I didn't want to forget Percy, but it seems as if there wasn't much choice. I walked towards it with slow, unsure steps, taking my time as I pondered more alternative steps to the solution. The security guard hadn't taken the pen away, and I gripped it tightly in my hand. Then I pivoted on my heel to go back to Elysium, following the path that I had taken. Perhaps there was some way that I could purchase a waterproof, plastic bag and durable paper there from one of the numerous buildings.
I wandered up and down lanes, until when there was almost no hope left, I saw it. A convenience store with no title, made out of brick. I suppose you couldn't call it a store since it had no cashier, but more of a neat storage room, so neat that I had no trouble finding the supplies I needed. And soon I took up the pen, unsure of where to start. How could I, in a few pieces of paper describe my entire life, my love for Percy, my devotion to my friends, my pride, and all the things that were important to me? But I picked up the pen and started with a simple introduction, and it grew easier to write as time passed.
I slipped the paper into the plastic bag and prepared to go bathe in the river that would make me forget everything. The next hour passed in a blur, but all I could remember was when I stood before – with a few others – some officials of the Underworld, I had a bag tightly clenched in my hand, though I couldn't remember why I wanted it. But I held onto it like my lifeline, because somehow I knew it was important. And then a flash… and all disappeared with a drifting sensation.
And sometime later that day, a blonde baby girl was born into a mortal family by the last name of Alexiou, somewhere in the city of Athens. A solemn one with dark grey eyes that had never been heard to cry. She was found with a piece of paper clenched in her fist shortly after she was born, and it was a perplexing mystery to the doctors there. So her parents decided to name her Charti. Paper.
Blah. I know it sucked, but I had to try. If I get at least seven reviews, good or bad, I'll continue.
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