A/N: Hey guys! This first chapter is where the real story begins. I feel bad for not saying this before, but Percy and Annabeth are going to be OOC from this point onward. Hera isn't the Time Travel Goddess, so consequently, time got a little... frazzled... during Percy's journey to the past. But I won't give away anything else.

Dedicated to:

xFireStar, my ah-mazing new beta

high . fiving . jesus for... understanding :)

meeeethegr8, for her 5-hour-smile-inducing reviews and PMs

Chapter 1—Princess Curls

~ Percy can't stand seeing Annabeth hurt. And maybe that's the whole problem. The whole crazy, unrealistic problem that caused him to hurtle through space and time. Because Percy can't stand seeing Annabeth hurt, and now that she is (quite badly), everything else disappears. And he's left with one thought: Save her. Then his whole world's black. ~

~o~

It starts out nicely enough (Or as nicely as a demigod-first can).

Percy's being chased by this bull-thing, and suddenly his mom's gone and it's raining and Grover's talking about food and—is that a cow wearing underwear? And there's this lingering feeling that he's done it all before.

Lighting, a pine tree, a (very) big house; it all flashes before Percy's eyes. He's running—hard. But that... monster is running harder. His instincts tell him to head towards the sprawling ranch-style farm house, framed by the lightning forking across the sky. Somehow, some way, Percy manages to kill the thing. It dissolves (literally) into golden dust, immediately vanishing in the pounding rain.

Percy half drags, half carries Grover (still moaning), and all he can think is how heavy he is. He collapses on the porch, barely conscious. Looking up, he sees a horse-man and moths circling a ceiling fan, like vultures. Blonde princess curls, grey eyes, a serious face.

Pain, and this odd aching in his stomach hit him hard. Where has he seen that face?

Then darkness.

~o~

The world's blurry; all grey and black and white. Percy's eyes blink slowly and with much effort. He's lying on a cot, a faded blue blanket tucked carefully around his waist. All he can make out is a virtually empty room, save for... someone. It feels like there's a million pounds of sand in his ears, but he still hears the crying.

Sobs, gasps, and whimpers fill the room. And the place they're coming from—a girl with knotted blonde hair, slumped shoulders, ripped up jeans, and a bright orange t-shirt that's kind of out of place.

Percy's stomach hurts. He winces, and then Princess Curls is looking up at him, grey eyes stone cold.

"Who are you?" she demands, looking absolutely livid, yet painfully sad at the same time. "Why are you here? Why'd you have to come and completelyfuck upmy life?"

Percy's a little taken aback. First of all, Princess Curls' eyes are practically shooting sparks. And second, language. She doesn't look a day over twelve years old. Third, everything feels wrong, almost like Percy was expecting a different response—a different reaction.

"Uh, I uh..." He rubs his eyes.

She sniffles. "I'm, um… I'm sorry," She chokes it out like she's never said it before. "Guess that was a little uncalled for." she says, forcing a chuckle that sounds more like she's got something caught in her throat.

Awkwardness beyond belief.

"What... can you talk?"

Percy coughs. "Um... yeah, actually." His voice sounds rough and scratchy, like sandpaper.

Princess Curls looks surprised. "Well, the mute finally speaks!"

At Percy's questioning glance, she points outside. Light.

"You've been here over a week, been awake, eating ambrosia and whatnot, but you never spoke a word. You looked like you were in another world. Or at least another time."

Warning bells.

"Okay..." Percy rasps out. He's feeling lightheaded.

"You look tired. Go back to sleep, I guess. Bye, Green Eyes."

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something's just wrong.

Calm down, he tells himself. It's probably just the ambrosia. That's what the food of the gods will do to you. Wait... How do I know that?

Something's wrong. Definitely, awfully, wrong.

'Not wrong, Percy, just off-balanced. Something happened... I can't say too much. Just sit tight. We're sending people in.', a voice says, seeming to emanate from his chest.

"Who are you?" he whispers out loud.

Silence.

There's a cold feeling below the hollow of his throat, like an ice-pack being pressed against his skin. Percy looks down, just for the sake of it, not expecting to find anything. And gasps.

Because there's a stormy grey amulet hanging around his neck, a color that makes his stomach pull.

And it's glowing.

~o~

For the rest of the week, Percy basically alternates between sleeping, eating, and staring at the orb around his neck. He begins to get used to his surroundings—even though he can only stay awake for a half an hour at the most before crashing, he's memorized almost every detail of the room. After all, there isn't much to memorize. It is a pretty small room.

Since he came to this place, he's only seen two people; if you could even count one of them as an actual "person." A bulky, surfer-esque man Percy assumes is a bodyguard is there, sitting in the corner, almost every time Percy opens his eyes. He would be your typical (extremely strong) guy, except he has eyes covering every square inch of his body. It's kind of unnerving, but by now Percy's pretty used to it. And it's not like he had much time to ponder it.

The other person is Princess Curls, who comes, Percy figures, at least three times a day. She's always mumbling some nonsense, her straw-colored hair askew and her stormy eyes flashing as she spoons mush (It can only be described as such.) into his rather unwilling mouth. Needless to say, he's fascinated.

~o~

Percy first gets up and walks a couple days later, according to his not-very-trustworthy internal clock. His knees wobble, and by the time he makes it to the spacious deck at the front of the house, he's totally out of breath and puffing like an old man. He's still pretty proud.

Percy sits down on one of the lean-back chairs and looks at the glass of amber colored liquid Grover gave to him. "It'll give you a taste of home," He had said, looking entirely too nervous.

He talked to Grover earlier that day—and it was an ordeal. Grover practically peed himself apologizing, but it was nice seeing him in his characteristically panicked (and not unconscious) state. Percy had millions of questions, but Grover skillfully sidestepped them. He was starting to get seriously annoyed.

Percy takes a sip from the red and white straw. The drink looks so good, and it even has one of those fancy little umbrellas in it.

He takes a sip, because it can't hurt to try.

As soon as the thought crosses Percy's mind, he recoils in shock. The drink tastes too much like fresh out of the oven (famous, blue) chocolate chip cookies. A lump the size of Texas gets caught in Percy's throat, just thinking about cookies, which leads to Mom. Mom. He thinks of her proud smile every time she would set a chipped plate stacked to the brim with blue cookies in front of him, and the lump grows. Where are you mom? he thinks.

Percy looks up at the squeak of an ancient wheelchair.

"Ah, hello Percy," Mr. Bruner says, smiling at him with that mischievous expression that always catches Percy off guard. "You must have a lot of questions."

~o~

Mr. Bruner—ah, Chiron—tells Percy everything. And "everything" is completely crazy. But for some reason, Percy doesn't feel that shocked. Like he was expecting to be the son of some ancient god. Uh-huh. But it feels… right, somehow. And Percy can't shake the feeling.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, etc. this story. I love you guys! :) If you confused about anything, feel free to ask.

~Selena