This is my second Hunger Games Percy Jackson Crossover, and I just want to say, this has absolutely nothing in common with the other, this is a totally different Hunger Games world. THEY ARE NOT RELATED. This is a story about Finnick and what he had to go through knowing he was a demigod. This is only going to have a maximum of ten chapters, and very likely only around five.
Chapter 1
The fist time he ever met his father, he was nine. The old barnacle beard hadn't showed his face
anytime before that, and that in itself was enough to make him extremely mad at the person he was
supposed to call his father.
Your feet slap against the cold metal ground, the sound of your breathing's not labored, but everyone's around you is. Maybe it's because you care too much, you can't afford to be out of breath — at least not yet.
You step... It's gaining.
Step... She almost trips next to you.
Step... You run faster.
It seems like this is all your life revolves around now — running from it.
He was a clueless nine year old, and as he walked down the beach, he noticed an weary looking man, fishing in the ocean.
Ignorance is bliss...
If only you knew that then.
He knew that it was absurd to fish in the ocean, besides the fact it was illegal and the officials would no doubt cite the old man, he kept walking, kicking a purple rock as he did.
Suddenly, out of the blue, he hears a name come from the man's mouth. "Finnick." He says in a strange tone, one of longing and anger.
Your name has been said too many times, in awe, in anger, admiration...
If only you could hear be spoken in love...
One...
Last...
Time...
He surprised him, and without turning around, he stopped unconsciously, as if something otherworldly was commanding him to stop, and not just his brain. The tide laps around the old mans feet, and as he slowly turns around he notices that the tide almost seems drawn to the old one in a strange way.
You like to think that the beach and water loves you, that the breezes comfort you and the waves lap affectionately at your feet.
Maybe it's just your imagination, but something draws you to this man.
In the exact way,
that,
The tides seem,
drawn to you.
"Yes?" He asked, sure he has never met the old man.
You curse the fact you ever turned around, ever engaged that man in conversation...
But you can't.
Time only flows forward, and you of all people should know that.
Curses... Curses...!
The old man's face crinkles into a grin and studies him, his eyes searching over him, as if he was a painting he takes small pictures of his face, he feels as if this man knows him some how.
He turns away from the scrutinizing gaze of the mysterious man. "Who are you? I can't be seen talking to you, or the officials will cite me... And I'm already to much of a burden to my family."
Forgive me mother...
Love is not always one sided.
As ours was.
The man pretends to think for a moment. "Some call me Poseidon, some call me the Kraken, and even other's Neptune. To you, you may call me father."
He stares at the man as if he has two heads, "My father is dead."
If only that were true.
Maybe it would have saved you a lot of pain.
Pain that no six year old should go through.
"No," for now he's calling him Neptune, Neptune says, "I am your father. You are my son."
"Okay," he says, accepting the crazy mans claim, hoping that Neptune will leave him alone. He starts walking again.
Step... Step...Step...
Faster...
FASTER!
"And Finnick, you are my son, and someday you will make me proud, my little hero, my littlest demigod. I love you."
Love...
Mommy?
He walked away, but what the Neptune said was branded into his brain, and somehow he knew the man wasn't lying. He had a father.
Who called him a demigod.
Who most of all, said he loved Finnick.
Love, the rarest emotion of them all...
When Finnick had gone to sleep, he dreamed of a boy with raven hair, and deep, sea green eyes much like his own. The boy has a glowing bronze sword, his face is hard as he stands protectively in front of a blond girl.
The boy dies, protecting the girl, and it touches a twelve year old Finnick in a way that nothing has before.
They were in a real love.
The kind most alien to you...
He woke up, drenched in a cold sweat.
Fear...
Finnick is to old for games now, all life is is train... Train... and Train. Winning the games is all that consumes his mother's thoughts. He's only twelve! Barely eligible!
Throw the spear, slice with sword, with a great amount of effort make the water fight for you.
He wakes up tired everyday, but today his different. He looks over to his side, where a small chair sits, with a familiar old man sitting in it.
Finnick jumps, "What are you doing here, father?" He adds at the very end. He tries not to say father, oh how he tries, but he fails, if Neptune only knew the hatred he felt.
Neptune smiles, a warm and comforting thing. "My little hero, still young, but nearing your destiny."
"Who was the boy?" Finnick askes, knowing Neptune knows. His hatred dulls into a push and a pull, back and forth, back and forth until he can't even remember why he's mad.
"He was my son, long ago. His name was Percy Jackson. He was my favorite son. The best of the best." Neptune says.
Finicky says nothing, but who knew one word from a father he's never known puts a lump in his throat.
He never loved you...
Not once.
Life wouldn't be like this.
He could've taken pity!
Finnick remains quite, and somehow understands his father is an immortal being. "Who is your favorite son now?" He asks curiously, trying to mask pain that radiates in pulsing waves.
Neptune looks bewildered for a moment, "You, of course my little hero. You are so much like him, yet completely different. And I have no other children, besides you and only you."
"So why don't you take me away from this terrible place, mommy doesn't even love me?"
The hand... poised for strike only inches from your face...
"Get aways from me you stupid, useless, child!"
Neptune looks devastated, and Finnick regrets his words. A horror stricken Neptune shakily says, "I am so sorry, my little hero. If I learned anything from Percy, it's that I'm a terrible father." Neptune looks at his hands, ashamed, "I promised him I'd try to be a better father, I really did, my little hero. I'm sorry, but I can't take you away from here, though I'd take you to my palace this instant if I could." He closes his eyes, "But I cannot risk you changing your future. You are the hero in this story, and you'd never forgive me if I just took you away from here. You have an incredible destiny, my hero," Neptune seems to grit and whisper out the last part.
Incredible, huh? You want to snort.
But all you can do...
Is.
Just.
Keep.
Running.
"Annie!" Finnick calls, his only love — ever.
She hides from him, twirling at last second out of his grasp.
But then she halts suddenly, and turns around to look at him, her usual joyous face with a delicate frown and look of utter confusion.
"That's not my name."
Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie.
That's why you're doing this — you're doing it for her.
"My name..." she stutters... "Is Annabeth... Annabeth Chase."
Finicky looked at her strangely, "W-what?"
"My name..." she mummers. He eyes flash dangerously, but true love is evident enough for Finnick to see, which is good enough for him. "I'm not who you think I am."
He crushes her to him, "I love you, regardless, my princess."
She nods, her hair tickles his face gently, "I love you too."
You smile wryly as you remember, you beat your brother in one thing, that's for sure.
She loves me now, he wants to gloat to his dead brother, that's one thing I did better.
Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase.
Daughter of Athena, wife to Finnick, son of Poseidon, father of Perseus Finnick Odair.
She is no doubt the most amazing person in the world.
That's how you can buy him, with secrets.
Secrets.
Finnick knows, more than any other, he understands.
Secrets... The president...
I'm so sorry, Annie, you cry.
I'm so sorry my, princess.
It wasn't me.
It was him.
He.
Forced.
Me.
To.
Forgive me...
"I forgive you," she says with tired eyes, "Just tell me, next time. Forever and ever, right?" She lift's their intertwined hands, a challenge on her face.
He leans forward, so that they're nose to nose.
"You're on."
You're on... You're on...
Yeah, you guess.
Because if you're not on, you're dead.
Finnick stares at the bowl haughtily, the same bowl that ruined his life.
And yes, they draw his name.
But he can't even find it in himself to care.
They called hers.
Annie...
Annie.
Anna.
Annabeth.
Don't leave me!
Mags, what are you doing? No — wait! NO!
Bye my knights, thank you for reading! R&R!
(Salute)
— Jay