AN: Here's a Halloween treat for you guys :)

Disclaimer: Too busy sulking about BoO. Don't own.

Also, the section about Aphrodite and Tristan's meeting is inspired by an except I read online that was supposedly taken out of The Other Boleyn Girl, so I don't really own that either.


Chapter IX.

When Annabeth was small, she was a quiet child. Hard to believe, but it was true. She rarely spoke, and kept to herself at most times, reading her endless mountain of books. Her only riotous moments were when she had nightmares of carnivorous spiders during the nights. Sure, she was taught to be quiet, gentle, to be the perfect lady (funny how she grew up to meet none of those requirements), but you could not be silent if you were the heir to the throne of an entire country. It got to a point where the tutors and the king became worried that their future heir might not be exactly up for the job, if she refused to even engage in the smallest of conversations.

Then Luke came, during the winter about a year before the war started. When the blonde boy arrived, he was merely another son of another man aspiring to be part of the royal military. He had nothing to do with the Crown Princess. Their paths crossed half a year later, when Annabeth had just turned seven. Annabeth had been sick of all the nonsense that the tutors had tried to feed her, such as how to hold herself properly when walking down flights of grand stairways, as if she had to balance a vase on her head. What was the use of those things? It was not like she would actually have balance a vase on her head while walking. Besides, she might've dropped it just for the sake of hearing the crash anyways.

She had wandered into the garden, where the flowers were already drooping, the ground a carpet of vibrantly colored petals and leaves. It was almost autumn.

That was when she heard the sound of footsteps other than her own in the otherwise almost creepily quiet garden. And something else that sounded suspiciously like someone was chopping wood. The guards should've kept the undesired people out. And her parents and the other noblemen are in one of their "important meetings" at that moment, so there should not have been anybody else there.

She turned the corner and saw a boy of about twelve, a few yards away, hacking viciously at a tree with a shortsword. She felt bad for the tree, but she never liked that particular tree anyways, with its sparse leaves and the bugs that crawled up and down its bark. And spiders. But she was still tempted to call him out for the vandalizing of royal property.

Yet she didn't. She just stood there and stared. She had never seen a boy (her little brother excluded) so close to her age before. All the rest were either already full-grown and arrogantly distant, or much, much younger. And she couldn't help but notice that the boy's eyes were much brighter a blue than the eyes of the people around her. But his eyes at that moment were glaring at the tree as if it had killed his mother.

The boy seemed to have finally realized that there was someone there other than himself. He turned and raised his shortsword as if to defend himself. When he realized that it was only a girl – and a royal girl, no doubt by the looks of her clothes – he bowed his head and started apologizing profusely.

Annabeth had stared at him, then laughed. It was the first time she had laughed so freely, so brightly.

The boy had blinked at her as if she'd gone mad. Then, he started laughing along with her.

"What is your name?" he had asked with a grin and a slight accent. He was no longer glaring, and Annabeth thought that the smile suited him much better than the glare.

Annabeth returned the smile eagerly. "Annabeth."

That was Luke from nine years ago. And this was the Luke who had affiliated himself with the people who wanted Annabeth's life.

Beckendorf raised his head from the ground with his last strength. "Annabeth, go. Go." His voice was brimming with so much pain Annabeth could not bear it. "RUN!" he shouted.

And another blade pierced his chest. Annabeth let out a strangled cry. She stood up. But she did not run. She would not.

She fixed Luke with a glare smoldering with red-hot hatred. She raised her blade, the exact knife that Luke himself gave her for her ninth birthday. But he wasn't Luke anymore, was he? Just like how Drew wasn't Drew anymore. Or maybe this Drew was the real Drew, and all Annabeth ever saw was an illusion. So who was to say that it was any different with Luke? Maybe the Luke who befriended her, the Luke she thought she knew like the back of her hand…maybe it was just all an act. And act to get her trust, and then kill her with a dagger in the back.

She couldn't trust anyone now. She could only rely on herself.

It was not wise to fight him. She wouldn't be able to win.

She charged forward, her knife aiming directly for Luke's chest.

Luke smiled, but it was a crooked smile. It was like looking through a pane of cracked glass, the myriad of fissures on the glass surface warping the image. "Gods, you are out of practice." He swung his sword, and easily knocked aside Annabeth's strike. She tried to attack again, but he stopped her with a slash towards her legs, and she had to leap out of the way. "And naïve, too. Do you expect me to fight you as if we're still simply training?"

Annabeth clenched her teeth, making a sound between a growl and a cry of rage.

They locked blades again. And this time, Luke's obvious physical advantages were starting to show. Annabeth's arms were already sore, and she knew she couldn't use brute force.

She took a breath, and twisted out of the way of the sword. The blade arced down uncontrollably with the sudden lack of resistance, and Luke almost lost his balance. Annabeth dashed forward, managing to nick his shoulder with her knife. A small red flower bloomed at the spot. Annabeth saw a flash of surprise flicker through his eyes, as he regained his balance and swiveled back around before Annabeth could attack again.

They stood there only a few feet apart and stared at each other, detecting all tiny movements, calculating, deliberating whether or not to strike first.

Luke smirked. "What will your mother think when she sees you fighting like this with a bloodied knife?"

"And what will you father think," Annabeth countered, her lips curling in a snarl, "When he sees his only son, fraternizing and conniving with traitors in attempts to kill his princess?"

And Luke faltered. That was enough of an opening for Annabeth. She lunged forward, aiming for Luke's heart.

She thought she got him. He was in no position to defend himself. He wouldn't be able to move fast enough. At that moment, he was weak.

But at the last split-second she stopped, the tip of her knife a mere inch away from Luke's heart.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill Luke. Luke, who'd probably kill her without a second's hesitation, who'd follow Drew's orders to the letter simply because she ordered him to, who betrayed her and was now holding a sword pointed at her heart. She couldn't kill him.

She should kill him. She should hurt him so that he could not come after her. She should - needed to get rid of this menace. Yet she couldn't.

And Luke took advantage of her hesitance. He brought his hand down hard on Annabeth's wrist and twisted it, forcing Annabeth to let go of the knife. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood, and Luke spun her around so that now, he held Annabeth in a chokehold. He set the edge of his sword on Annabeth's throat.

No way out now.

Applause came from the side. Drew stepped out, followed by all the traitors of their party.

Annabeth struggled anew, but Luke's hold only tightened, and the sword slid a bit across her throat. The flash of pain and the wetness meant that she was bleeding. Her eyes widened in pain and, even if she didn't want to admit it, in fear. This was the closest she had ever been to death.

"My gods, how the mighty have fallen. Look at the precious Princess Annabeth now, begging for me to let her live," Drew gloated, looking down at her with her nose turned up, a triumphant smile adorning her face.

Annabeth gritted her teeth, eyes livid. "I will never beg the likes of you."

"That is a very nice expression right there," Drew said with a sadistic twist of her lips. "I have seen that expression before, on the faces of the people who have no real power, nothing but the blood they were born with. And you...you do not even have that. You are nothing." She twirled a strand of her hair, giving off an air of complete leisure. "Remember that one time when you complained – quite childishly, if I may add – about having to marry someone you have not met before. And I thought, 'Why do you care? You are marrying the Crown Prince of Olympus! I would kill to be you.'" Her smile was sharp as broken glass. "And I was not joking." She walked closer and leaned forward. "I would say to not take this personally," she whispered in Annabeth's ear, as if it was just like old times and she was merely relating the day's gossip, "that this is but a crusade against all those incompetent rulers, but that would be dishonest. And you know how I feel about dishonesty."

Annabeth spat at her. Just think how appalled her mother would be.

And Drew recoiled with the same disgusted face on as Aphrodite would've had. "I would say that, but that would be not true, since you and I both know that this is a very personal hatred. So, please, feel free to take this personally. Oh, and," she added in an almost inaudible whisper, "since that slut who gave birth to you was in fact from Olympus, you should be grateful that I am returning your remains to your homeland." She straightened, apparently pleased with herself. "You took away the life that I was supposed to have. I am taking it back." She turned to Luke. "Kill her."

Luke tensed, a minuscule movement that would've gone undetected had Annabeth not been entrapped in his arms. "Here?" he asked with a bit of hesitation.

Drew wrinkled her nose. "Ew no. Take her into the woods and dispose of her."

Luke nodded, still taut as a bowstring.

Drew stared at Luke, seeming to at least sense that something was off. "I trust you will not let me down," she said flatly, although there was a slight edge to her voice. Annabeth knew she was using magic again.

Luke nodded jerkily, then let go of Annabeth for just a second. Before she could bolt, he twisted her arms behind her and held them there with one hand. He crouched down and picked up the fallen dagger, and stuck it in his weapons belt. Annabeth struggled against his hold again, but it was like trying to break iron.

Drew caught her eye and smiled, looking just as sweet as she used to. But she could see the virulent, sharp edge to that smile now, like honey poured over a butchering knife, covering and not quite covering the truth in a translucent, illusionary beauty. And Drew's smile at that moment said, "Game over."


The queen of Greece sat down on her chair, prim and regal as ever, albeit wanting to do nothing more than cry out all her hidden anguish, and preferably lie down on her bed for a long, therapeutic sleep. But the queen was never allowed to slack off, was never allowed to show how she truly felt. No, she had to keep it suppressed, hidden. She had to put up the front of an impartial ruler, a woman who would not be sidetracked by emotions and would be able to deal out justice mercilessly, someone who put the well-being of her country above everything else.

Aphrodite dearly hoped that Annabeth would not hate her forever. Piper, she knew, would forgive her eventually, as long as she was allowed to visit her sister in the future. Piper was never the one to hold long-lasting grudges. Annabeth, on the other hand…

Annabeth had been a problem child since she was very young. Rarely outspoken in her youth, Annabeth had cost both Tristan and herself a great amount of headache trying to prepare Annabeth for the rigors that came with the title of Crown Princess. Annabeth had never seemed quite "prepared" for it, though. Aphrodite had always thought that the girl looked more at ease lounging in the library with a heavy book balanced on her knees or on the back of her white stallion with wind stroking through her undone hair, than when sitting on her throne with men looking at her expectantly for orders. It would surely be easier for her, to be the foreign princess in a foreign country, where no one would have any expectations of her because no one would know her.

And then there was Aphrodite's other problem child, Drew… Drew was her big regret, her great sin. She should have never fallen for that man from that country far, far away, should have never let the man sweet talk her into what had happened. She was naïve, too naïve, only sixteen years old. She had believed that the man truly loved her, that he would carry her away from this awful country in his shining carriage, that he would marry her and everything would be a happy ever after. Instead, she had been left in the dust, watching the man ride away and feeling the horror of knowing that a new life was growing inside her. A life that she did not want and would not be able to keep. When the baby was born, her mother had snatched it out of her hands, and promptly given it away. No one had to know.

It was not easy raising a child who you knew was not of your blood, not easy to love her same as you do with your own son and daughter, but Aphrodite had done her best by Annabeth. She had given her dresses, jewelry, and balls and parties thrown in her honor. She had taught, or at least tried to teach her everything she thought Annabeth would need as a princess. Annabeth was now sixteen, and her luck was much better than Aphrodite's was at her age. She already has a fiancé who would not be able to abandon her with an unborn child as he did, and her title and her beauty and her riches – truly everything a girl could ask for.

But another child who was her biological daughter had rested only halls away, but she could not and would not acknowledge it. She should not have invited her governess and Drew into the castle. She had never wanted Drew, had never truly got over her feelings of shame whenever she saw the girl. She knew that Drew had, for years, looked towards the royal family with worship in her eyes. Drew had come to her one day holding the ring Aphrodite had slipped on her when she was born – perhaps she had never truly gave up the child. And Aphrodite knew that the girl had realized the truth. She had tried so hard for Aphrodite's approval, for her to say that she was proud of her. The girl just wanted the love that was never given to her. And Aphrodite had shattered that hope as brutally as she could – with casual, calm indifference. She imagined Drew wanted nothing to do with her now. It was for the best. She could find a new life for herself in Olympia, and she could find someone who would not abandon her, someone who would love her full-heartedly for who she was.

She had tried her best by Annabeth, although she knew that this last act of betrayal – at least it was that in Annabeth's eyes – was enough to break off any possibility of love between them.

That was the burden that comes with being queen.

Duty before blood, always.

No one had to know.

Perhaps she was selfish in not telling Annabeth the truth before she left, but perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps it was better for Annabeth to leave the country thinking that her mother did not love her, instead of knowing that her mother is an exiled criminal. Perhaps it would spare Annabeth the heartache.

Aphrodite could only hope that that was enough.

She looked down and read the page in the small notebook once again. It was Tristan's diary. It was opened to the page where it detailed the ball at which he and Aphrodite had first met, half a year after Athena's exile. Reading Tristan's diary, looking over the books he truly enjoyed that lay in a pile beside their bed, all the things that was him and not the king…it was all the comfort that she allowed and was allowed.

And so I asked the beautiful Lady Aphrodite, "And what would you know of great men?"

She said, "Great men are willing to sacrifice for their country. I would know one, if he were before me."

I had smiled, and asked, "Do you see one here?"

She walked along the edge of the dance floor, looking about, surveying the men. "Looking, my king."

Then she stopped before me and smiled – such a mystical, knowing curve of those full red lips. The colors in her eyes were swirling, and I found myself involuntarily caught in the whirlpool.

She looked up at me. In that moment, I felt my heart falling again. "Ah," she said, "found one."


"Unhand me, Luke."

He didn't react.

"Let me go, Luke!"

He released his hold on her so abruptly that she stumbled. When she regained her balance, she realized where he'd taken her.

Annabeth turned back towards him. He was gazing at her with eyes that seemed almost…sad. He had no right to be sad.

"So," she said with a haughty tip of her head, "did you bring me here to cast me down that waterfall?"

He didn't reply, only withdrew the bronze dagger from his weapons belt and threw it at her feet. Luke's own weapon, a blade three times as long as her own, was strapped on his back. Annabeth stared.

"You, me," he said, "To the end."

Annabeth stood still, staring at the dagger as if she didn't recognize it. She felt the unnatural desire to laugh and swallowed. "Luke, stop this."

He didn't even blink. "Stop what?"

"Drew is toying with you. She tells you lies, in hope of turning all of you against me."

"She tells the truth."

"She has sorcery on her tongue. Her words wrap around your mind. She can convince you of anything. How could you believe her – no, I mean, you are Luke. We have known each other all our lives. And how long have you known her? A few months at most? You should know better."

Luke shook his head. "Wake up, Annabeth. Haven't you ever felt that Aphrodite doesn't exactly treat you like a mother should? What mother would send her oldest daughter off to be married, with just a 'it is for the good of the country' and not even one 'sorry'?"

Annabeth swallowed. "She is the queen. And I am a princess. We both have a duty to our country."

Luke barked out a short laugh. "Like hell. Don't tell me that you haven't ever suspected, just a little. Don't tell me that you aren't questioning your identity right now. Don't even think about telling me any of that, because you know deep down that Drew is right."

Annabeth had no answer for that. None that she could speak aloud. So instead she asked, "Is that why you help her? Because I am not the blood daughter of the king and therefore not fit to be royalty? I never knew you were that shallow, Luke."

Luke's mouth corners twitched downward. "I help her because she helps me. Olympia and Greece both are ruined lands of filth and corruption. Her position can help me change this. She can help me change this."

Annabeth could only imagine what kind of "change" that Luke wanted if it required her death. "So you give Drew the power? You know perfectly well that she will throw you aside like rubbish the minute you lose your value." Annabeth took a deep breath, not sure if she was still trying to persuade Luke or just simply stalling for useless time. "Come with me, Luke. Forget about all this. Let go of this. We can go to the king of Olympia, and you can testify against Drew. You can still save yourself."

He snorted. "Save myself? From whom? From you? From what your 'mother' the queen will do to me if she ever finds out? Because –"

"From yourself."

He paused.

"You have a lot of hate, Luke. I can hear it in your voice. I do not know why, but I do know that you cannot carry that burden, that hate forever. It will devour you." And as she spoke, Annabeth realized why she wasn't ever able to refuse a direct order from her mother. Still, Annabeth heard her own voice lowering into her mother's – Aphrodite's – cadences, the soft and persuasive way that she spoke when she wanted something, even while she knew she wouldn't ever be able to replicate the queen's speech. "If you continue on with this, you will never escape. But you are strong. If you fight it now, you can still be free. You can still save yourself from the shadows that plague you."

Luke seemed momentarily stunned. Annabeth forged on. "Fight it, Luke. Come with me. You can still end this. We can still return to the past. We can still be normal –" And the moment those words were out of Annabeth's mouth, she knew it was the worst choice she had ever made.

And Luke knew that too. The uncertainty was wiped clean, leaving a face that was as blank as a new slate.

"No," he said. "We can't."

So there was nothing else for Annabeth to do but to bend down and pick up the weapon. Her hand was steady.

"Did we not already do this? Did you not already…defeat me? I fail to see the point of another fight."

Luke rubbed his left wrist with his right hand, looking away from her. "I cannot just…kill you like that. It would be wrong."

"Wrong?" Annabeth scoffed incredulously. "You are currently aiding my lady-in-waiting in committing high treason, and yet still stand there and talk about what is wrong?"

Luke shook his head, hand tightening on his wrist, his voice anguished. "You don't understand. You royals never do. You do not see all the dark things that happen right under your noses. People getting worked to death, starved until they're a bundle of bones and skin. Conspiracy and assassinations, power plays and bribery, lies and deceit. You royals don't care, as long as you get to continue eating feasts and wear rubies on your brows." He inclined his head, a semblance of heroes long past – the ones who fought and protected and were rewarded death and tragedy. "I want to fix this. I want to change this world for better."

"And you try to accomplish that how? By helping another in usurping the throne. You are a hypocrite, Luke. You say you are trying to 'change this world for better', to stop all that corruption you talk about, but you condone killing for power?"

Luke blanched. "No, I don't, I'm not like them, I -" In that instant, Annabeth saw the myriad of emotions that shone frighteningly clear on his face, in his eyes. She was reminded of that one time when she fell off a spooked and rearing Pegasus and broke her arm. Luke had chased the poor horse around with a whip and with that look in his eyes. That was the only time Annabeth was truly scared by Luke. And right now, the same glint was back, except this time, it was a hundred times stronger. An unfathomable black hole of hatred, anger that spoke of a loss that had struck too hard to ever mend, burning like blue fire in his eyes. The cords of muscle on his arms tightened alarmingly. "Dammit, I'm trying, Annabeth! I'm trying to do this right!" he yelled.

But the crack in Luke's armor was gone in an instant. Eyes back to a solid blue.

Annabeth felt cold.

He smiled wanly, almost pleadingly, "Don't you understand?"

Maybe she wasn't the right choice for the Crown Princess or Greece, or a future queen of Olympia. Maybe she wasn't fit to rule a country. Maybe she would make bad choices in the future. But she knew that Drew would lead a country to ruins. She could not let that happen, to Greece or to Olympia. And Annabeth wanted to live. She didn't want to die just then. And she might make bad choices, but she knew she would also make good choices. She knew she could bring good into this world. She could accomplish so much more.

Maybe it made her selfish, but there was nothing wrong with striving for survival.

"No," she said, tightening her grip on the knife – the knife that the very man standing in front of her had given her. "I do not."

She lunged, prepared to sink her weapon into her best friend's heart.


Drew's face was swollen and still stung like hell. Her dress was soaked, and it clung to her body like wet rags.

She felt like a servant.

She had gone through all this just to escape that life, and she refused to be that anymore.

All her life, she felt as if she was out of place. Her "mother", the palace governess, was an extremely low-ranking noblewoman, and, in Drew's opinion, their lives were not much better than an ordinary peasant's. She always knew that there was something different – something special – about her that the other dull palace children with their monotonous voices and their better-than-thou expressions did not have. She knew she was special, and it ruined her to have to pretend otherwise, to have to lower her head and be submissive and obedient. Her official title was "lady-in-waiting", but really, was it any different from "maid" or "servant"? Always waiting, waiting, never good enough, never her turn.

When she was young, everyone picked on her. Her dark hair and eyes, to the bigoted Greek noblemen, were an abnormality. The children, especially the older ones, tended to fling insults at Drew with their theories on her ancestry. "Hybrid." "Your father must have been an ugly pig, what with your unsightly face and your disgusting eyes." "No one wants you here, foreign trash."

The first time Drew had been to the royal grounds was when she was six. She had seen from afar the royal "blessed twins", wearing a pretty little dress and a smart little suit, a flowery bonnet atop of the girl's head. They were but four years old, yet already dressed like they were going to an evening ball. They were dining beside a breathtaking blue lake, the nurses doting over the two little dolls. Their mother sat nearby, looking magnificent and glorious and every bit like a queen. Drew remembered thinking, This is what I want to be like. This is what I should be.

When she was about eight, the queen invited the family into the castle, asking Drew's mother to act as a tutor for the royal children. Apparently, Drew's mother had been the queen's governess when the queen herself was a young girl. It seemed like an impossible concept, for Drew was unable to picture the regal and beautiful queen as a "young girl"; she seemed to have always been "queen" and never "girl". Nevertheless, the governess accepted readily. Before moving into the castle though, Drew's mother insisted on changing her hair color. "There may not be much we can do for your eyes, but we can at least manage to make your hair look normal," she had said. Normal, she said, as if having dark hair is some unnatural thing she should be ashamed of. But the king had dark hair, too, and eyes like Drew's. No one dared say anything. The younger princess, that Piperina – she had brown hair as well. Why was Drew the only person who had to hide it? It was not supposed to be this way. She knew she was supposed to be something more. And now that her hair was dyed lighter, there was not much about her to attract attention anymore, and everyone overlooked her, which was in its own way even worse. They all looked at the royal children, the two beautiful princesses, one with enviable golden curls and one with unforgettable jewel eyes, and the handsome prince, who had the charm of an ancient hero and the looks of a young god.

And her mother the governess, ever since birth, had treated her with a distant kindness, as if she was a visiting distant relative. Drew did not know why, and thought that the woman was ashamed of her. She stared after the royal family day after day, observing the way the queen held the hand of her young daughters during a stroll on a nice day. She spent nights wishing for someone to lift her up into the air, laughing, like the king did with his children, for someone to look at her with exuberance on their faces and love in their eyes, as if she was everything in their world.

That one day when she saw the necklace glinting at the queen's throat, the stone that was an exact replica of the one on her ring, she let herself hope. She knew that there was no way she could be the daughter of that woman who never gave her any love, but if she was actually the daughter of the queen, everything made sense. Because maybe the queen never knew that Drew was her daughter…maybe she was forced to give Drew up because of her family…or some other reason…But of course, when Aphrodite saw the recognition on her face, she had to tell her the truth, and Drew's hopes shattered.

"Yes," the queen had said, without a trace of remorse, without even a trace of emotion on her face, "you are my daughter. Annabeth is not of my blood. But that does not change the fact that Annabeth is the Crown Princess of this country. I had no relationship to you before, and I have no relationship to you now."

Does not change anything?! It changed everything. Drew was supposed to be the Crown Princess, not Annabeth. Drew was supposed to have that life, not Annabeth. And Annabeth was not even the queen's real daughter! And yet she received the queen's affections, while Drew got nothing.

She had discovered her charmspeech ability years ago. She had ordered the offending man (barely a man, he was just an insolent brat of a boy) to go drown himself and leave her alone. The man had been discovered dead in his bathtub that night. There was fear at first, of course, but gradually she realized that it was not a curse but a great power that the gods have placed in her hands. It was not something to be feared. It was the gods' gift, something to be cherished and used well.

With charmspeech, anything was easy. A little digging brought up the scandal that was the Queen Athena. Apparently, the king tried to cover the whole thing up, and luckily for him, some moron tried to poison the "queen". It was easy to send the woman away to another country, ban her from returning, and pretend that she was dead, though Drew could not understand why the king did not just hang her or thrust her in a barrel of nails. It would be the proper punishment for a crime as heinous as hers. And why did the king ever keep Annabeth? Drew will never understand. If it had been up to her, she would have thrown the runt into the lake and waited for it to drown.

And then after the king died, Aphrodite announced that Aeneas was to be the next ruler of Greece. Why? Drew was the oldest! Now that Annabeth was basically thrown out of the place, why was it not Drew who inherited the throne? Was it too hard for Aphrodite to admit Drew as her daughter? Too troublesome and inconvenient for her to admit that there was a girl kept hidden all those years who should be queen?

Well, she would show her. Drew would show her birth mother and everyone that she was worthy of being the queen's daughter, worthy of being a queen.


She is the one who needs to go.

There were two choices. He could give up, or he could stand and fight. Fight his best friend. The one he cared for the most these years. Kill her.

But he was never meant to have friends anyway. The gods weren't kind. This was probably his nemesis, his comeuppance for how he didn't do anything back then, could only hide and run away when the attack drove his mother crazy, could only cower in another country as she and her entire family got slaughtered.

Annabeth was looking at him with that look in her steel eyes, telling him to stop, that if he let go, everything can return to normal. He couldn't. It was all too messed up now, a chaotic tangle of love and hate and ambition and jealousy and vengeful anger. They couldn't return to normal. Nothing could.

So when she attacked, he dodged, twisted her weapon around, and plunged the dagger that he himself had given into her.

She didn't scream. She just stumbled backwards towards the precipice. She reached out to him. He didn't move.

And she fell out of sight.

And, to be honest, he didn't feel anything anymore. No regret, no guilt. Maybe his heart died all those years ago, and it was just an empty shell standing here right now.

So he just swiped a hand across his face to wipe off the blood. He turned and walked towards their campsite. He didn't look back. Because there was no going back. And when there was no going back, you could only march forward.


Drew picked up the golden circlet that symbolized Annabeth – no, Drew's status, and admired it. It was truly impeccably made, the etchings on the gold ornate and detailed. The three ruby drops on the front would bring out Drew's complexion nicely, and if she could let the dye wear out of her hair, the gold would contrast beautifully with her dark hair.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she almost dropped the circlet in panic, but then realized that she was the rightful owner to the jewelry now. She turned around with a smile, and there stood her amazing Luke, who had helped her make everything possible.

He was splattered with blood, sprinkles of it in his light hair, a smear across his face, and a stain across his shirtfront. He was expressionless.

"Ugh, disgusting," Drew said and made a face, then promptly regretted it as her face throbbed in pain to express its disapproval. That bitch. "Must you make it so messy?"

There was no reply. Drew frowned. "Did you, Luke," she said, utilizing a small amount of charmspeech just to make certain, "complete the task I assigned you?"

He looked at her. The blue of his eyes never failed to distract her. "Yes," he said at last. "It is done. She…I threw her down a cliff."

"Good." Drew said, scoffing, "Trash like her, that does not even realize she is trash, deserves to fall down the abyss." She let out a silent sigh of relief. "You did a good job, Luke." She smiled and laid her arm on Luke's, regardless of the soldiers around them. They would not care, anyway, under the influence of magic as they were. Charmspeech was simply most useful. "We have an amazing future ahead of us, Luke," she said, then wrinkled her nose. "But first, do change out of these clothes. They are absolutely filthy. Burn them afterwards. I will not have you arrive in Olympus clothed in such outrageous attire."


AN: So…*nervous cough*… will I be murdered for leaving it off like this? Review please? Tell me what you think. Just don't say anything about how Annabeth's argument with Luke was bad; I tried to make it sound smart, but I think I failed miserably.

So…what did you guys think of BoO?

[SPOILER ALERT]

I'm not happy about the book in general…and even unhappier about the way the book ended. I mean, I have nothing against Leo finding "true love", and I'm happy that Calypso finally got off her island, but the series is not named "The Adventures of Leo Valdez and His Dragon Festus". It's Heroes of Olympus, and I feel like ending the series with Leo achieving his personal goal is…off topic. And maybe I set my expectations too high, but can I just say that the book really fell flat, after the previous books? It was like we were on the top of the Rocky Mountains, and suddenly drove right off a cliff into Death Valley.

Okay, rant over (actually I have a lot more to rant about). Sorry if anyone got offended reading this.

And we can expect the entrance of a new major character the next chapter. :)