7-31-15

A/N: As promised (for once), here is the final chapter of "The Ultimate Sacrifice." I know I deserve the lack of responses for procrastinating so long and putting chapters up on a now essentially AU story after canon is complete. Thank you to the few readers who have bothered sticking with this story over the far too long time it has taken to complete.

Please enjoy, and have a wonderful rest of the summer!

(Also, I just realized I accidentally left Coach Hedge out of this entire story... Whoops? :3)


It took a few moments for Percy's eyes to get used to the sudden brightness of the New York sun after so much time under the black clouds of Mount Olympus. The now fully risen sun seared his unsuspecting retinas, his eyes watering reflexively. But just as he adjusted to the glare, tears filled them again; this time for a different reason.

Before them sprawled the horribly, achingly familiar valley of Camp Half-Blood. He could see the entire valley containing the omega-shaped cluster of cabins with its bottom rectangle. The Big House with its hideous baby blue paint and the wraparound porch (he could swear he saw a card table on the front) stood a hundred feet from the base of the hill, as garish and familiar as always. The strawberry fields marched out into the distant horizon, the trembling rock wall spewing lava down its sides nearby. He even spotted the packed oval circle where the chariot races were held. The nostalgia bubbled up in his stomach so fast, it was almost like someone had popped a can of soda in there.

And then his eyes landed on Half-Blood Hill—Thalia's tree—and the nostalgia became nausea.

Two armies stood on either side of the massive mound: one orange (on the camp side) and one purple. Standing in ruler straight ranks, the purple plunderers (er, Romans) bore violet and gold banners proclaiming the different cohorts that flapped and snapped in the dry wind. The Golden Eagle was held proudly at the front beside the Fifth Legion's praetor: Reyna. Regally perched on the back of her peanut butter pegasus, Scipio, the forever stern look on her face was like that of a marble statue. With the spears stuck up in straight lines and the spikes on their boots, the Romans beat a formidable sight.

On the other hand (or hillside) was...well, a more chaotic scene. Dented bronze armor glinted in the sunlight, goat fur, helmet horse hair, and leaves drifting around the waving, multi-colored flags. A hodgepodge of weapons bristled amongst the scattered campers, satyrs, and nymphs: cudgels, spears, swords, daggers, bows, a defective coffee machine (never underestimate the power of hot water and coffee beans). But what they lacked in organization, they made up for in ferocity. Percy knew. He'd fought alongside them. Both of them.

Percy swallowed. There was no way this could end well. For anyone. Except maybe Gaea, but she didn't count so much anymore. Percy hoped that she would kinda stay down after that whole Olympus incident...

A yell broke through the tense silence below them, a familiar commanding voice roaring: "Romans! Fifth Legion Fulminata!" Reyna.

"Fifth Legion Fulminata!" Camp Jupiter echoed, the battlecry rolling across the valley in a huge wave of sound that was almost tangible in its volume. And then they were marching, lightning crackling dangerously from the wing tips of the mighty golden eagle in its bearer's hands. Up the hill, toward the massive pine tree they went, headed straight for the front lines of Camp Half-Blood perched just at the edge of the invisible magic border.

"Greeks!" Clarisse screamed as she hefted her electric spear into the air. (Percy had long ago lost track of how many of those zappy toothpicks she'd gone through.) "Kill the invaders!"

"Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!" came the answering roar, several of the Ares campers banging on their shields with their swords in almost excitement. "For Olympus!"

Then both armies were moving, the gap closing between them—two hundred feet...one fifty...one hundred...

"Percy!" someone screeched in his ear.

Percy instinctively flinched, leaning away from the sudden sound as his mind and body seemed to unfreeze.

Annabeth was tugging on his arm, her face tense and ashen. She pointed at the two attacking camps, as if Percy hadn't noticed them. "We have to do something!"

"Right," Percy muttered. Quickly, he shook his head, clearing the last vestiges of fog from his mind. "Right. Leo!"

The Hispanic jumped at the controls, seeming to break out of a shocked stupor. "Wha—? Oh, right! Admiral Leo, at your service!"

Percy could see sweat under the younger boy's hairline, trickling down Leo's neck and soaking the back of his shirt as he sprang for the controls. Percy decided not to judge seeing as the pits of his arms weren't much dryer—and he was the son of the sea god.

"Bring us lower," Percy ordered. "Right between them. Get as close to the ground as you can without killing anybody."

"Got it!" Leo replied, fingers already flying across the dash.

"Piper!" Percy called.

Dazed kaleidoscope eyes met his.

"Grab a megaphone, and get to the prow," he directed. "Try to get them to stop attacking each other."

"They're not technically attacking yet," Jason murmured. "Neither side has made contact."

Percy turned toward him. "And I'd like to keep it that way, thanks. Think you can summon a little wind power?"

His cousin smiled grimly. "You betcha." And, as if to prove his point, he shot off the warship in a miniature hurricane, swooping down the still clear center and blowing enormous gusts of wind at the troops, Greek and Roman alike.

Confusion rippled through the ranks of demigods at the sudden wind, dazed eyes turning to the sky. A plethora of gaping mouths and pointed fingers were aimed at the rapidly descending Argo II, soldiers staggering in their ranks and toppling others in the growing turmoil. But the mission had been accomplished: not a single Greek or Roman demigod had touched (attacked) the other...yet.

At the same moment, a familiar voice washed over the scene: "Stop fighting! Lay down your weapons and surrender!" Percy's hand was already in his pocket before he realized what he was doing and stilled his fingers against the urge.

The command was almost (almost) unnecessary considering most of both armies had stopped to gawk. There was a brief moment of chaos as half the demigods attempted to drop their weapons—attempt as in, at least on the Roman side of things, spears and pilums swung onto their fellow, tightly-packed soldiers' heads. A few dazed hands went up in the air before their owners seemed to realize what they were doing and hastily dropped them again. And then everyone was frozen, silent and staring as Leo pulled up the massive warship fifteen feet from the ground.

Hovering indecisively between the two armies and the ship, Jason glanced up, electric blue eyes meeting Percy's in a silent question: What now?

With a start, he realized that everyone on deck also had their eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to speak, to tell them what to do next. Even Annabeth.

Immediately, Percy felt the unfortunately familiar weight of responsibility crashing down on his shoulders. It was his job to make things right. It was his job to protect his friends from harm. It was his job to get everyone out of this situation alive.

It was time to live up to those ever growing expectations one more time.

Clearing his throat quickly, Percy jerked himself back to the present. He figured it was only shock and charmspeak that had kept everyone quiet thus far. He had to act quickly for the peace to last.

Someone took his hand and Percy flinched slightly, turning to see Annabeth standing at his side, grey eyes hard and determined. She nodded shortly.

And with a deep breath, and a quick swallow, Percy and Annabeth strode to the prow where Piper stood poised with the megaphone, occasionally urging the rapidly angering Romans not to fire at the ship that had blown up their city merely months before.

The two demigods poised themselves next to the bronze dragon head perched on the prow, plainly visible to all below them. There was a beat of silence. Then murmurs broke out amongst the two armies, excited on the Greek's side, slightly rebellious on the Roman's side. A few Camp Half-Blood members even called out greetings to them, waving their hands over the crowd of horse hair helmets.

Percy held up a hand for quiet. And suddenly, the silence was so absolute Percy could hear the wind rustling the leaves of the dryad trees in the forest beyond the Big House.

Piper passed him the megaphone, and he held it nervously to his lips.

Percy suddenly realized he didn't have a clue what he was going to say. "Um...hi," he said, voice echoing over the hilltop. Even he had to wince at how stupid that sounded.

Beside him, Annabeth gave his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. Percy's heart slowly stopped its nervous pitter patter. Resolve rolled over him like a fresh sea breeze. He could do this. If he could take down giants, he could talk some sense into his two crazy families.

"Hi," he repeated, more assured and confident this time. "Before any of you think of attacking us or each other, we ask that you give us ten minutes. Just ten short minutes to tell you why everyone should put aside their weapons. Sound good?"

A few grumbled words were heard. Percy decided that meant a 'yes.'

"Just in case any of you don't know me,"—cue snorts from the Greek audience—"my name is Percy Jackson. And this..." He gestured toward the other demigods of the Seven who had filed in behind them, each looking nervous and determined in their own right. "...Is the crew of the Argo II, or as you probably know, the seven demigods of the latest Great Prophecy."

Almost immediately, whispers broke out in the ranks below.

"We have just returned from Greece," Percy shouted over the noise, "from Mount Olympus where the final battle against Mother Earth ended about..." He thought for a moment. "Thirty minutes ago."

Gasps of surprise and cries of doubt erupted under him, filling the hillside with a jumble of sound.

"We are here to tell you that the prophecy has been fulfilled," Percy continued. "For those of you who don't know it, the exact words are:

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call

To storm or fire the world must fall

An oath to keep with a final breath

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death

"Seven demigods from both camps worked together and closed the Doors of Death," Percy said. "We even gained another on the way. The world, or Gaea, fell to storm and the oath has been kept. The second Giant War is over."

Percy really hadn't expected his words to be believed just like that. Sure enough, it was merely seconds after Percy's startling proclamation that an all too familiar voice called out from the Fifth Legion: "And how do we know you are telling the truth?"

Suppressing a sigh, Percy glanced down to see a skinny, straw haired boy clutching a knife and a teddy bear, and looking thoroughly ridiculous staggering around in full Roman armor, came stumbling from the ranks of Romans, glaring up at Jason, then Percy as if they'd done him a personal wrong.

"Flying around in some glorified warship does not make you the recipients of some great prophecy!" Octavian shrieked indignantly. "Crossing the Atlantic proves nothing but that you are guilty criminals, running from your crimes against New Rome! Why should we trust you?"

"You will notice that we have made no move to fire on you, Octavian," Percy said in a carefully measured voice, forcing back his rapidly rising irritation. "We have no intent of—"

"Yet!" Octavian interrupted, jabbing his silver knife into the air. "You haven't attacked us yet. I swear to you, Perseus Jackson, you will pay for the damage you have inflicted upon our great city! You and your crew," he spat, crazed blue eyes flashing across the deck.

"Just let me explain—" Percy began.

"And you, the mighty Jason Grace!" Octavian continued, ignoring Percy as he glared daggers at the still hovering Jason, flecks of foam appearing at his mouth as he strangled the teddy bear in his hand so violently its button eyes appeared to be popping out of its head. "Our beloved praetor. Nothing but a filthy graecus traitor! Both of you!" he screamed, eyes flicking from Percy to Jason and back again. "You shall die for your treachery! You—"

"ENOUGH."

Percy had never been more happy to hear the sharp, cold, utterly commanding voice of the single lasting praetor of the Fifth Legion Fulminata rise above Octavian's frenzied screaming.

Reyna swept upwards on her peanut butter pegasus Scipio, her golden armor glinting in the morning sunlight as she hovered to a halt a discreet distance from a certain Jason Grace. Her dark eyes burned down at Octavian, her regal bearing and stern look making the augur look like a mere rag doll wrapped in tinfoil armor in comparison.

"I will hear what they have to say," she said shortly, succinctly, her tone brooking no argument. "Anyone who wishes to attack will answer to me." Her threatening gaze briefly scanned the legion, as if daring anyone to challenge her.

Finally, her piercing eyes met Percy's. "I will hear you," she repeated. "But make it quick, Jackson."

For a moment, Percy couldn't find his voice. "Right," he murmured. "Okay," he continued louder, "the reason for the rift formed between the Greek and Roman camps goes back millennia, back to the Parthenon in Ancient Greece. When Rome invaded the country,"—Percy barely stopped himself saying "our" country—"they stole something from the temple that was very precious to we—er, the Greeks. That something was a statue called the Athena Parthenos."

Fresh whispers burst from below, but Percy barreled on over them. "However, we, or rather Annabeth Chase, have retrieved this statue from where it has been hidden in Rome for thousands of years."

"What?" called a voice from below, one that Percy recognized as Malcolm, second-in-command of the Athena cabin. "The statue's been found?"

Excited cries rose from the Greeks, mostly from the Athena cabin, but most of the others just look confused.

One voice carried distinctly over the wave of noise: "How?"

Percy jumped slightly to find Reyna had flown up beside the ship, boring into him with her flashing dark eyes.

One-by-one, cabin by cabin, row by row, the demigods quieted, all looking expectantly once more up at Percy.

Immediately, Percy launched into a retelling of their quest, beginning from the moment they had left the wreckage that had been New Rome. He glossed over certain parts, like the points where the Romans had caught up with them and the embarrassing situation of being caught in a giant fish bowl. Although he was sure to stress the unwilling duel between him and Jason and the following discovery of the possessing spirits, eidolons, residing within Jason, Leo, and himself. He recounted their journey across the Atlantic, their arrival in Rome, and the place at which they all parted ways. Again, he skipped specific details such as the time Annabeth and he had spent touring the streets of Rome and stopped for lunch in a small café before she set off on her solo quest of almost death.

At this point, he faltered, unsure of whether or not to go into the details of Annabeth's mission. He sent her a questioning glance.

Annabeth's face was unnaturally blank. She held out her hand for the megaphone.

Surprised, Percy lowered the mouthpiece from his face. "Are you sure?" he murmured. "If you don't want to I could—"

"No," she said gently, but firmly. "It was my quest. I'll tell them what happened."

Reluctantly, Percy passed her the plastic cone. For a moment, Annabeth stood still, eyes closed, as if composing herself. Then the flashing grey orbs that Percy had come to know and love flew open, the megaphone was before her light pink lips, and she commenced the story of her terrifying quest, beginning from the moment Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn—that is to say, Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia—dropped her off at the entrance to the tunnels from their powder blue motor scooter.

The silence throughout her story was total, every face fixed, wide-eyed, on Annabeth. Even Octavian managed to hold his tongue, though the increasing red flush to his cheeks might not be a good sign either.

The moment of the Argo II blasting through the ceiling came, and Percy tensed uncomfortably, knowing what came next, but determined not to freak out at the mention of the name of the place found in his worst nightmares—and daymares.

He listened nervously, dreading every word as Annabeth described the crumbling chamber, the valiant efforts of the Seven in saving the Athena Parthenos from a terrible fall... And then their subsequent slip through the cracks of the scene—quite literally. By this point, Percy realized he was gripping Annabeth's hand so tightly it was turning purple. With enormous willpower, he forced himself to relax his grip.

"Wait," Reyna said, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the story. "Are you telling me you fell into Tartarus?" The skepticism in her voice was almost palpable.

Darkness clouded Percy's vision, his knees half-buckling beneath him until he remembered the thin hand still clasped in his, clutching his fingers tightly as if sensing what was happening.

"Percy," Annabeth whispered.

Percy latched onto the sound of her voice, concentrating on the feeling of her hand in his, and shook the curtain of blackness from his sight. The whole escapade had only taken seconds.

He met Reyna's incredulous stare, boring into her eyes in not quite a glare. "Yes," he said calmly. "We fell into Tartarus." With some apprehension, he waited a second for an impending flashback; but none presented itself.

"And for that reason," Annabeth said, "I think it would be best for someone else to continue the story seeing as we were somewhat...preoccupied for the remainder of the quest."

Whirling around abruptly, she passed the megaphone to Jason, who had apparently joined them sometime during the long narrative, and marched to the back of their little group, dragging a very relieved Percy along with her.

Percy listened with some interest as Jason explained what had happened on the Argo II's end of things. Between long hours of unconsciousness and his slightly crazed determination to free Annabeth from the giants, he realized he'd never gotten the opportunity to ask how things had gone on their end.

Nevertheless, his attention began to wander. With a start, he realized just how close he and Annabeth had come to dying. Like, really really close this time. And considering how often their Fate strings led them through mortal peril, that was saying a lot. It's like those three old ladies knitting their stupid socks had it down for Percy and Annabeth to live lives that resembled loose, black, knotted balls of frayed goop rather than stockings. And considering his horrible luck, Fortuna hadn't decided to step in much either.

He glanced yet again at Annabeth, whose steely grey eyes were focused on Jason with a faraway expression. He could see the cracks behind the stoic gaze that would never heal, the slight downward curve of her mouth as she concentrated on nothing, her lips parted slightly and her eyebrows furrowed in attempted indifference and confidence. But Percy knew better.

This time, it was his turn to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was pressed against his side. Annabeth remained stiff and unyielding for only a moment, then seemed to sag into him, her right arm stretching around his torso so they stood as one on the deck of the Argo II.

The corners of Percy's lips quirked. He was back at Camp Half-Blood. Neither the Greeks nor the Romans had made any threatening move toward the other since they'd arrived. Annabeth was in his arms. And that was all that mattered, really.

All too soon, Percy's bubble of thought and temporary happiness burst to be replaced by a new wave of nervousy as Jason began the conclusion of his speech.

Percy shot Leo a significant look over his shoulder. Immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the prompt, the Latino nodded in understanding, slipping away gratefully from where he'd stood half-hidden behind Piper in an attempt to avoid Reyna's imminent stare of death.

And within moments of Jason finishing his account with their arrival at Camp Half-Blood, Percy heard the creak of pulleys from the ship's hull, the distinct bang of the glass bay doors falling open. Gasps, cries, and finally cheers erupted from the audience as the Athena Parthenos was lowered from the ship, emerging feet first and growing steadily taller until she stood proudly on the hill overlooking the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood.

"This is our proof that every word we've spoken is true," Jason said loudly. "We have come to you as a representation of demigods from both camps who have overlooked our differences to accomplish what neither one could have done on their own. We have defeated Gaea. We have brought back the Athena Parthenos, which we Romans wrongly stole from the Greeks thousands of years ago." He gestured for Percy to join him at the prow, and Percy reluctantly unwound himself from Annabeth to stand beside his cousin.

"As praetor of New Rome," Jason called, "I, Jason Grace..."

"And I, Percy Jackson, Roman praetor and Greek cabin leader." (Percy resisted the urge to grin at the startled murmurings from the Greeks at the revelation that he was a praetor.)

"Offer this statue back to Camp Half-Blood as an offering of peace," Jason announced. "Our camps should no longer be divided, but united. Together, we can accomplish so much more than either camp alone."

"We propose a treaty," Percy continued. "A sworn oath of cooperation and friendship between both sides. After all..." He grinned lopsidedly. "We were all born from the same gods."

Approving calls came from a majority of the still watching demigods, and Percy was relieved to hear only a few boos and hisses (Clarisse and Octavian being prominent among them).

But Percy knew there was only one person that mattered, who would have the final say. As one, Jason and Percy fixed their eyes on Reyna.

"Do you accept our offer?" Jason asked quietly.

For a moment, there was complete silence as Reyna regarded Jason impassively. Once, Percy could've sworn her eyes flicked to Percy before settling back on the son of Jupiter.

"I accept the proposition," she said finally.

"I second that!" Malcolm cried gleefully from the ground, his smiling teeth clearly visible.

Cheers and whoops broke out on the Greek side; loud, uniform foot and spear stamping from the Romans, effectively drowning out Octavian's yells—at least, Percy assumed he was yelling as his mouth was open, his face cherry red.

Percy shot Reyna a wide smile, seeing a similarly beaming Jason Grace embracing Piper out of the corner of his eye. A small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the usually stoic praetor's face.

"See you in the Big House?" Percy asked, gesturing at the giant farmhouse near the base of the hill.

"Indeed, Jackson," Reyna said. "Indeed."

And with a quick pull of the reins, she was gliding toward the Big House.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," came a wonderfully familiar voice. He turned to see Annabeth standing behind him, her golden curls shimmering brightly in the sunlight as she gestured with a barely concealed smirk to the edge of the boat. "Leo's about to let down the ladder. Ready to come home?"

A broad grin stretched across Percy's face as he grasped her proffered hand. "I was born ready."


The sun was setting over Long Island Sound by the time negotiations were complete. Overall, Percy thought they'd gone over pretty smoothly. Besides the flaming teddy bear, but other than that nothing unusual. The look on Octavian's face when he discovered the official meeting was to take place around a ping pong table had been priceless.

With a happy sigh, he settled back into the soft sand of Camp Half-Blood's beach, watching what remained of Apollo's sun chariot dipping under the water. Despite the cool breeze, Percy was quite warm and contented sprawled on the whispering sand with Annabeth curled up at his side, his chin resting in her honey lemon curls. He wondered if they would bounce like a spring if he were to pull one like this...

"Beautiful sunset," Annabeth said suddenly, driving all thoughts of bouncing hair from his mind.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Perfect end to a perfect day."

Annabeth snorted. "If a day like today is your idea of perfect, I'd hate to see what a horrible day is."

"I was only half serious," Percy defended. "I mean, sure most of it sucked, but the important things went right. Gaea and her giants have been defeated, the gods helped out"—he barely stopped the "for once" that threatened to escape—"the Greeks and Romans are more or less buddies now, and we all got home in one piece." He met her piercing grey eyes, suddenly serious. "Though for us, that might be saying too much."

Because Percy was sure there were some parts he and Annabeth had left behind on the other side of the Atlantic. Parts he wasn't sure they would ever get back.

Annabeth sighed, trailing her finger in random patterns in the shifting ground as she stared out over the horizon, her lips pursed lightly. "I suppose so. But are you really surprised?"

Percy thought for a moment, recalling briefly the horrors they had experienced in the darkest depths of hell. "No," he admitted.

"No one can walk away from something like that unscathed," Annabeth murmured. "I know that. But..."

"It still hurts," Percy finished softly.

Annabeth nodded stiffly.

Percy drew her closer as she buried his face in his chest, resting his cheek against her head and rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles into her back.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the tiny waves lapping at the shrinking shoreline, the faint chattering of very happy campers drifting from the open pavilion what seemed like light years behind them.

"How did you stand it?" Annabeth cried finally, turning her face up to his. "Even being with you, now that everything's over I just can't stop thinking about it." She took a shaky breath. "How'd you handle it all on your own?"

"I had a little bit of help," Percy admitted. "But it wasn't easy. I don't think I would've healed for a long time, if at all. But maybe now..."

"It'll be easier," Annabeth breathed.

"Hey," Percy whispered, pecking her lightly on the cheek, "as long as we're together, right?"

"Together," Annabeth agreed.

In the same breath, they tilted forward, closing the remaining tiny gap between them so their lips met in the middle. Warmth rushed through Percy, tingling from his lips to the tips of his toes.

And for the first time in months, Percy felt safe. Everything was right with the world. Anything could happen right now, a pack of hellhounds could explode into existence in front of them, and Percy wouldn't care. Because as long as Annabeth was at his side, Percy could conquer anything.