A/N: dear people I am sorry that I haven't been writing much. I've been very busy. I guess. I dance at school all day everyday why is this I didn't sign up for that shit. My body hurts just everywhere anywhere why is this oh my gods.
So here it is. A merman!Percy/pirate!Annabeth. Because I talk about it a lot in my Tumblr.
Enjoy your interspecies mating rituals the way you like it.
Oh, my love don't forsake me,
Take what the water gave me.
Annabeth blames it on her own sick pride.
What else would've filled her with this stupid, stupid idea of jumping into the sirens. Who knew what these seas are filled with. Nereids. Merpeople, too, perhaps.
So what.
Poseidon might as well join, for all she cares. She might not be a goddess, she might not control the waves and the storms at sea, she's still the Queen of the Seas.
So long as she has her crew. So long as she has her ship. So long as she smells the ocean, so long as there're riches to pillage, the poor to help.
Taking a deep breath, coat swishing in the wind, she takes one look back at Thalia, who gives her a thumbs up and jumps.
The ropes around her torso will keep her anchored to the ship. She'll survive this.
'Course she will.
Annabeth worries about survival less when she hears the songs.
Songs of adventures throughout the sea, the curved horizon she'd often see at dusk, the way people's faces would light up because for one moment, a moment she'd help making happen, everything's okay, they have something they can call their own. Most of all, there are songs of the ghosts that still haunt her.
Ghosts of what could be but will never be. A lover. A father. A mother. (Dead, dead, dead, a voice tells her, but it doesn't matter. They're here to stay. She's here to stay.) Temples in front of the bright, bright moon behind a backdrop of empty, black night. Stars.
She'd made all this happen.
She wasn't aware that her ship clashing into the rocks, Thalia's distant screaming, and others' too, was her doing. Terror. Pain.
Red, warm blood seeping into the sea. Water splashing. Slick sounds. Flesh burning, shred to ribbons of red and the color of flesh. Pieces of clothes strewn.
All because of her sick, sick pride.
As soon as the first drop of blood touches the sea, Percy's blood rushes. It's been too long. As soon as the first creak, the first signs of the ship sinking show, green eyes glow, breaths held, if you were able to do that underwater.
Silence.
A moment.
Eyes closed, inhale, predatory smiles, shark teeth, tails twitching.
Glowing eyes. Songs of green fields and red roses.
A piercing scream.
Bones grotesquely poking out of flesh, blood tainting the water a warm, dark, dark, red, helpless screams.
Bloodshed.
Percy sees her first, the foolish Captain. Her head was bloody, body resting against a rock, fancy blue coat ruined.
Still, he notices that she's still breathing when he swam near enough. The faint rise and fall of her chest, the small wheezing sounds she makes.
Cautiously, Percy moves a hand towards her, claw-like fingers snaking through her arm, which was twitching painfully, weakly.
Only it was strong enough to send a dagger to his side, before lifelessly dropping to her side again.
Percy curses, swishes his tail rather harshly, and pulls out the dagger, golden blood running down blue skin. He stares at the Captain, then back to the dagger clenched in his hand, and moves eagerly towards the human. He pulls her to his side, and, ignoring her weak protests, fists beating against his chest, feet kicking, they plunge into the deep.
He's going to have a little fun.
The first time she has enough strength to pry her eyelids open, she sees rocks and light outside and she can hear waves splashing against boulders.
Looking around the cave, Annabeth notices the merman's tail first, a brilliant shade of green, too… bright to be thought of something that gored hundreds and hundreds of humans unfortunate enough to be lead astray to his shores. It flicks one, two times before she averts her eyes. His skin, like most mermaids, is tinged blue, his claws are tapping impatiently against a rock, where he lies on his stomach. His eyes are looking at her, and it's a green, a darker shade than his tail, although this time, it doesn't glow, like last time.
Last time, when he almost drowned her, when he swam into the dark, dark part of the ocean, where almost no light penetrates, with Annabeth on his tail, a bubble barely there and she can't breathe and you're dying, dying, dying –
Her head throbs, but she feels around her waist for her dagger, when she remembers that the dagger she's searching for is the same dagger that she stabbed him with. She scowls at him, fury evident even when she demands, weakly, what does he want.
He grins, feral, black lips around his sharp teeth, says, nothing more than what he has; says, nothing she could provide.
Well then. Annabeth starts to sit up, slowly. Every muscle in her body hurts, and there's a painful hammering in her head. Still, she manages, says defiantly, take her back.
He watches her struggle for a moment, folding his arms before him and resting his chin on it, and tells her, smug, that he had helped in her healing process. When she states her request, demand, plea, what ever that was, he tilts his head to one side and a more malicious smile on his face, says, back where? The wrecked remains of her ship? There's nowhere she's left, Cap'n. Then he laughs, as if he's pleased of himself.
Maybe he is.
Take her to land, then, a request. A demand. A plea.
Flick of a tail. Says, maybe he will. His tone suggests otherwise.
What's her name, he asks. Maybe it's been a day or a month or a year. Maybe it hasn't even been too long. His arms are crossed on a flat rock, chin resting on it and half of his body submerged in water.
Eyes flashing, narrowing, says, Annie Bell.
Hearty laugh, he doesn't think so, says, she doesn't sound like someone named Annie Bell.
He's right. Still. Arms crossed over her chest, Annabeth demands, what's his name, then?
He has to pause to think. He forgets, he says, Peter? A pause, then, softly, says, Percy.
It seems true enough. It is true, maybe, so it's what makes her say, in the same tone Percy used, it's Annabeth, clears throat, her name's Annabeth.
He smiles, sarcastic and mischievous, but it's the least feral smile he's smiled.
Annabeth resists flashing a sarcastic smile of her own.
She's planning something. Of course, she is.
Still, Percy is her host until then. He briefly amuses himself with the idea of asking Circe for some of her concoctions made especially for (male) pirates, but quickly diminishes the thought –he's returning her alive, and in her own body. Though, return to where exactly, he still hasn't decided. He thinks that maybe this is an alright reason for him to keep her for a little while. Besides, it's not like she- Annabeth. It's not like Annabeth can't escape by now, if she had wished to. Granted, the cave they're in is right behind a waterfall, but it's not like it's a really high one. And she's a pirate, she's used to this whole jumping-into-deadly-things thing.
Maybe.
It's not like he's a bad host!
He keeps her well-fed, bringing her human food he's specifically asked the cooks from the Palace make. He also brought her a blue coat! It wasn't even wet when he'd brought it to her, except that they weren't exactly in the driest of places so it's a bit soggy right now. It's the thought that counts. Percy entertains her as well! Not in the way most merpeople do, singing their songs and all that, but they talk and Percy's learned a lot about her.
He's learned that she's had a lover, Luke, who originally owned the ship, Princess Andromeda, until he got killed by the same sea monster that was meant to devour Andromeda, the original one, that she took over. She had laughed, something about the irony of life and Percy thinks that he agrees with her.
He thinks a lot when he's with her.
He has to think about what he says next or whether he should say anything at all, because one wrong thing he says causes her to scowl at him and give him an hour worth of explanation about how he's wrong. If he says the right thing… well, not much will change. He thinks that human love is a strange thing and he thinks that she's beautiful. He thinks he's feeling human love – affection – towards her. He also thinks that's not a bad thing at all.
One thing he didn't think that it actually was a bad thing.
Today, Percy brought her a bunch of flowers that he put together into a halo so he could place it on her head, and made one for himself. She looked a little apprehensive, even when he swam a respectable distance from her, and began telling her about mermaid love, how it actually isn't that different from human love, except that you get some sort of bond with your partner, sort of like empathy links with satyrs, Percy says, but a lot more deadlier, since you sort of get a hold of your partner's heart and mind, he says, which is good, he guesses, make them think calmly, happy thoughts and all that, sort of like, drugging them, but sometimes, he says, face darkening, frowning, out of fury, merpeople would squeeze their partner's hearts out, literally have them bleed out.
He shrugs and he talks more, about the Palace underwater, merculture, but Annabeth does not talk, instead nodding absently now and then, which is unusual because she'd often found it all fascinating, sometimes morbid and just really ridiculous, and she'd say something about it and Percy would argue, and she'd argue back, but today she has a frown on her face, an absent look in her eyes, like she's thinking of something really deep and the more Percy looks at her and the more he thinks about it his chest tightens with worry and he knows that he's said something wrong, and maybe he should go back, give Annabeth some time to herself.
Maybe she'd like that.
Maybe?
Percy was about to turn back, swim out when Annabeth says her first words, voice croaking from disuse that she has to say it twice.
There was no need, Percy heard it the first time.
She wants to go back.
Oh. Percy thinks he made a small sound, going still and staring at Annabeth. Her mouth starts to open, forming words, more words that'll make the tightening in his chest ever more painful than it already was so please, stop, stop, stop talking, wise girl.
Okay, he says, okay, he says again, because that'll make it okay. Maybe. He clears his throat, and this time it's his voice that cracks, where to, Cap'n?
There was no need for him to repeat.
It's silent when he swims her towards land, in a bubble. It does not remind her of the time he first kidnapped – yes, perhaps it's the correct word. It does not remind her of the time he kidnapped her, deep into the ocean, thin protective bubble around them.
This time, even though his eyes glow green like the last time, it does not scare her as much. It's slower, and she can breathe.
She can breathe but she thinks the air is running out.
When they reach land, Percy says a quick goodbye, and Annabeth thinks he said 'see you later,' maybe on purpose, maybe it's just there. She does not know whether to cry or to laugh because hopefully whenever this later was, hopefully it's not during bloodshed.
Still, Percy would forever be Annabeth's biggest What If.
What if.
What if she never asked to be brought back. What if she just stayed in their little cave. What if. What if she just let Percy take care of her. What if they just- What if they just put flowers on each other's head and tell each other stories of the seas, because there's so much that she hasn't told him and so much that he hasn't told her yet and there are so many what ifs. What if they had the empathy link.
Then what?
Life doesn't go like that. She can't always stay in a cave, or depend on a merman, or have flowers in her hair, or tell stories of battles and inside jokes.
(Perhaps it could but what does it matter.
Annabeth would never admit it to herself but she blames it on her own sick pride.)
She walks alone.
A/N: I'm going to just post this. I'm not sure I'm really happy with this though? But I've been working on this for weeks now and I thought, blah. I'm going to post it before I go and delete it or something. Yeah.
