Disclaimer: All PJO characters belong to Rick Riordan.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Annabeth
"She knew she loved him when home went from being a place to being a person."
(Unknown)
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Annabeth jerked awake, her head spinning. Her entire body was shaking violently like she was on a sugar high. Her head was pounding so badly, she felt like her brain was rattling along with her body.
There had been a man in her nightmares. The man frightened her more than any other nightmare did. He had appeared to be in his mid-forties with chocolate brown hair and terrifying eyes: one blue and one green. She had dreamed of him coming into her bedroom, as silent as a snake. He would stop right next to her bed, and just stare down at her with a sickly fascinated expression. And that's all he would do - just stare at her, nightfall until morning, with piercing eyes that haunted her even as she woke. Eyes that she felt were watching her now. Overwhelmingly paranoid, Annabeth flicked her gaze across her bedroom - and immediately faltered.
Her vision must be messed up. Because when she looked around, it was like she was looking at the room through a sheet of water. Everything moved with a fluidity that Annabeth found entrancing. For a minute, she just stared at her surroundings, wondering if she was underwater.
Then, she got up and started walking. She didn't know why or how; she hadn't told her legs to move, and she was too weak to hold herself up anyway. Yet somehow, she managed to walk just fine. She left her bedroom to find that the rest of the palace had a watery sheen to it. She furrowed her eyebrows. This was too strange to be real. Unless there was a flood overnight that was somehow managed to bring the entire palace underwater - but no. She was breathing just fine. When she walked, there was no resistance, like there would have been with water. Maybe it was just her eyes, then.
Annabeth continued walking down the hall. When she looked into each room, there was no one there. She found that strange. Where were the servants? Where were her parents? Where was Percy?
"Looking for me?" a voice asked from behind her. Whirling around, she found Percy standing there in the middle of the hallway, the one clear thing in a sea of blurriness. Her lips turned up in a smile and when he opened his arms, she immediately went into them, burying her face in his chest. She was still shaking, but it had subsided a little. Percy represented everything she needed after that horrible nightmare: comfort, peace and protection. He kissed the top of her head, and tightened his arms around her.
"Bad dream?" Percy asked. Annabeth nodded. "Sorry I wasn't there for you."
Annabeth pulled away a little bit so she could look him in the eye. "S'okay," she said, shrugging a little bit to show him that she didn't really care.
Percy grinned down at her. Not being able to contain herself any longer, she rolled up to her toes and brought their lips together in the sweet, breathless kiss.
Her world exploded. Her eyes slipped closed, but she could almost hear the loud explosion, could almost see the bright colors from behind her eyelids. The color of love and adoration, of beauty and passion. She melted against Percy as they kissed, feeling as if they were not two, but one body, melting, molding into something beautiful.
And then, the kiss stopped abruptly. Annabeth slowly opened her eyes, confused as to why Percy had stopped the kiss so suddenly. She was even more confused about why he looked deathly afraid of something behind her. She shot him a puzzled look. "Percy?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she tried to twist around to see what he was staring at, but his arms tightened around her body, trapping her. She looked up at him, annoyed, and lightly pressed against his chest to try and get free.
And there he was. The man, with his different colored eyes and piercing stare, capturing her gaze from right behind Percy. She opened her mouth to scream, but when no noise came out she realized that she was paralyzed with fear. She physically couldn't move; even if she wanted to, and she didn't. Because this guy was terrifying.
The man opened his mouth to speak, and when he did, Annabeth wanted to get away from him more than ever. His voice held an ancient power in it. It was raspy, yet entrancing. Powerful. It horrified her. But then his words sank in and they were scarier than any piercing stare or ancient voice.
"This is your doing."
What was her doing? Percy being afraid? How was she supposed to know what he was afraid of - if it truly did have something to do with her - if she wasn't able to turn around?
As if her frustrated and confused thoughts had summoned it, Percy's arms loosened around her. She jerked out of them and whirled around.
There was nothing there.
What was going on? Why was the man from her nightmares there? What was Percy seeing? How did it have anything to do with her?
She turned around again and screamed. The man was gone, but Percy was still there. A half-dead Percy. He was so thin, you could see the shape of his skeleton. His skin hung off of his body like ribbon. Half of his hair had been singed off and one eye had been gouged out. What was left of his skin was so badly burned, he looked like he had been burned at the stake and survived. A steady flow of water streamed out of Annabeth's eyes and she shook with uncontrollable fear. How . . .? What was going on?
Percy took a step towards her. Then another step. Then another. Slowly, he moved towards her, his hand slowly reaching out to her like some scary ghoul in a horror story. Annabeth wanted to run far away from here, but her feet were glued to the ground. She couldn't run away.
Percy was almost to her now. She felt like throwing up. She was repulsed by Percy and so, so scared. She thought she might die because of how scared she was. So when Percy came close enough, instincts took over and she pushed him away from her with all of her might.
He fell to the ground, and promptly melted into it.
Annabeth stared, shocked at what had just happened. This had to be a dream. It had to. If it wasn't, Annabeth was going to kill herself.
"This is your doing."
There was the voice again. She looked around for the man, finding him standing to her right, still staring straight at her. "What?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "What's my doing?"
"This is your doing."
Annabeth heard a soft gurgling noise, something that sounded almost like a spring. She turned around, looking for its source. When she found it, she froze.
Blood. Blood was oozing out of the walls.
The walls were bleeding.
"This is your doing."
It pooled together, the thick crimson, making lakes of red. It glistened in the light, moved under the sheen of Annabeth's eyesight.
"This is your doing."
Then came the awful cracking sound. Annabeth stared in horror as a hand broke through the wall. Then an arm, then a leg, then a body, then a head. This person looked just like Percy had - shredded skin, skeletal body, gouged out eyes. Then another burst through the wall, then another, then another. They came one after the other until they took up the entire hallway. They all stared at her, and said in perfect unison:
"This is your doing."
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Annabeth was screaming when she woke up. She thrashed around in her bed, throwing the sheets off of her body. She didn't know what was happening other than the knowledge that she had killed all of those people, she had killedher kingdom, until she was the only one left.
She felt herself beginning to panic.
Oh gods, the gouged out eyes was her doing and the skeletal bodies was because she had starved them and their shredded skin she wore as ribbons because she had been evil and wicked and dark and taken advantage of her kingdom. Oh gods, how could she do such a thing what was she supposed to do now because she was evil so evil and why couldn't she catch her breath?
Annabeth tried to block out her thoughts. She focused on calming herself down, trying to catch her breath, but it didn't work. All she could see were images of her kingdom, her subjects,Percy, telling her that she had done this to them. Telling her in four words that she was wicked. Despicable. Selfish. Everything she feared she would be if she were to become queen.
Her father found her not a minute later, on her hands and knees on her bed, gasping for air, choking on her panic. He rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her backwards into his chest. She fell against him with a horrible gasp-slash-sob and curled against him, crying and panicking.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Fredrick murmured into her hair. "It was just a bad dream. It wasn't real."
But it had seemed so real, Annabeth wanted to say. She couldn't, of course, over the roar of her panic.
Finally, five minutes later, Annabeth had calmed down to a small blubbering. Her father still held her, which she was thankful for. It was nice to be comforted by someone she loved, even if that person wasn't Percy.
"You okay?" Fredrick asked, rubbing Annabeth's back. She nodded and pulled away, falling against the headboard of her bed. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
shredded ribbons of skin gouged out eyes starved bodies
She opened her eyes. Maybe it was best not to close them for a while.
The king, seeing his daughter's distress, wisely decided to change the subject. Annabeth was grateful. If he had decided to ask her to talk about her dream, she didn't know what she would have done.
"The surgeon is coming to see you today," Fredrick reminded her. "In fact, he should be here any minute."
Annabeth stared at him blankly. Through the haze that had settled over her mind, she vaguely remembered that her parents had scheduled an appointment with a surgeon, who could help her. Who could fix her. Another memory also resurfaced. She remembered her fight with Percy the previous night, the way he had begged her not to go through with the surgery because he couldn't bear to lose her. She hadn't listened to him, just told him that she had to do something other than sit around and wait to die.
She glanced over at the other side of the bed; Percy's side. It was empty. Annabeth vaguely remembered Percy coming into her room in the middle of the night and apologizing to her for their fight. The memory was so fuzzy, she didn't know whether it was a dream or reality. Yet she so hoped that it was reality.
"Where's Percy?" she asked, her voice still shaky.
The king's face darkened.
Annabeth's stomach dropped. No, she couldn't take this. He couldn't be dead. She wasn't able to live without him. "What happened?" she asked. Her voice was significantly more afraid.
Fredrick shook his head. "Nothing you need to worry about," he replied gently.
Annabeth's patience was wearing thin. Her entire body quivered, both inside and out, and she couldn't handle not knowing. Her father couldn't be cruel enough to withhold such vital information from her. She needed to know where he was, if he was okay, if he was in danger, if he was alive. The fear that he wasn't clawed at her until she felt like she couldn't breathe.
"Where is he?" she demanded, voice shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "You have to tell me where he is. You have to. You can't withhold information from me like I'm some child, especially not about Percy . . ." She began to whimper, retreating back into the bed. Her hands reached out to grab the sheets on Percy's side of the bed, as if that could somehow bring her closer to him.
Her father rubbed his hand up and down her arm in a paternal way. "Calm down, Annabeth," he said quietly. His words were harsh, but his tone was gentle. Annabeth wiped her eyes and looked at him. Fredrick must have seen the despair in her eyes because his face softened and he said in a low tone, "Something happened last night and-"
A knock sounded at the door. Piper slowly opened the door, and poked her head inside the room. Annabeth fixed her with a sharp glare, to which she promptly ignored. "Doctor Apollo is here, Your Majesty," Piper announced. Fredrick waved his hand in a gesture that told Piper to bring him in.
Annabeth looked at her father with wide eyes. "But, Percy . . ."
Her father shook his head. "Later," he whispered back just as the doctor sauntered in.
He was surprisingly young, Annabeth thought. She had pictured him as an old man in her head, for some odd reason. He had short, well-kept hair the color of the sun and tanned skin, like he spent every second of his life outside. He was well-built and strong; and when he looked at Annabeth, his eyes were a golden color that she had never seen before. Everything about him was so bright, he could pass as a sun god.
The doctor bowed. "Your Majesty," he addressed Fredrick first, before turning to Annabeth and bowing again. "Your Highness."
"Doctor Apollo," Fredrick said, nodding his head in greeting. "I apologize for the absence of my wife. She had other royal duties to attend to this morning, but she told me to send you her love and thanks."
Apollo nodded. "And I thank her." He paused, moving his attention over to Annabeth. He studied her with a stare of such intensity, it actually made Annabeth uncomfortable. She had been examined by doctors for months, had people stare at her while she thrashed around and cried out in fear, but for some reason, this doctor's stare made her uncomfortable. She couldn't tell whether it was her tumor or her intuition, but she suddenly had a horrible feeling about this surgery. She wished Percy were here next to her.
"You were diagnosed with this disease since birth, right?" Apollo asked. Annabeth bit her lip and nodded. "And you were on meds your whole life until a few months ago, when you were kidnapped and taken captive?" Annabeth nodded again, now on a whole new level of discomfort. She hated talking about that month when she was gone. To her, she hadn't really been taken captive. It had almost felt like a vacation, especially towards the end. And that's what she tried to view it as: a vacation. Because Percy wasn't a monster like everyone tried to make him out to be. In her eyes, he was a hero and he always had been. He always will be.
"And, if my sources are correct," Apollo continued, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, "you fell in love with your captor. Percy Jackson."
Annabeth suddenly felt a wave of anger. "What's that got to do with anything?" she spit out at the doctor.
Apollo grinned from ear to ear. "Nothing," he chirped in reply. "I just genuinely wanted to know if the rumors were true."
Annabeth glared hard. "I believe that is none of your business."
Apollo grinned at her a second longer, and the look on his face told her that he was impressed with her feisty attitude. Annabeth wasn't sure how to take that. She was still immensely uncomfortable.
Thankfully, Apollo changed the subject. "So how long have you been off of your medicine?" he asked.
Annabeth quickly did the math. "About three months," she answered.
"How many, uh, spells do you have per day, would you say?"
Annabeth shook her head. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "It varies."
"How does it vary?" Apollo's eyebrows were scrunched together, like what she had just said was extremely interesting.
"Um . . ." Annabeth trailed off uncertainly. How do you explain something like this to someone who has never experienced it? "Some days," she started slowly, "I have them almost every half hour. And then others, I'll have really a horrible, bad one only three or four times a day."
Apollo nodded at her before turning his attention to the king. "I can perform the surgery tomorrow morning, Your Majesty, if you would like," he said.
Fredrick hesitated, and glanced at Annabeth. She knew what he was thinking. That would give her parents barely one day to spend with her before she did a surgery that no one had survived before. Annabeth's stomach dropped. It was a scary thought, but part of her was also anxious. Anxious to get rid of these visions, anxious to be healed and healthy. It had been so long since Annabeth was last healthy, that she felt it was worth the risk.
Percy popped into her head then. She remembered his face during their argument and a wave a guilt fell over her. All he wanted was for her to live a little bit longer because he loved her, and he wasn't ready to let her go. He thought that not doing the surgery was their best chance to be happy, even if it was just for a short amount of time. For a second, Annabeth really considered what he had offered. If she turned down this offer, maybe Percy and she could get married. They could have a wonderful two months together, full of stolen kisses and late night conversations. Surely her parents wouldn't refuse to let her marry him if that was her dying wish.
But then, Annabeth thought about the kingdom. She thought about Macy and how good it had felt to help her, even if it was costing her her life. She knew that there were others in the kingdom who were in need. She could help them one day. Doing this surgery would be her best shot at survival. It was her best shot to stay with her parents, her kingdom, to stay with Percy, and that's all she really wanted.
Annabeth glanced at her father. They shared a look before looking back at the doctor.
"That's fine," Annabeth answered for her father. "I'll be ready."
Apollo nodded. As if he sensed Annabeth's nerves, he gave her a blinding smile. "It'll be alright," he assured her. "I've got a good feeling about this one."
After Apollo left the room and entered the hall where Annabeth suspected Piper was listening through the door, Fredrick and her sat in silence. The air was heavy and weighed down on Annabeth like there was an actual horse on her chest. She took a deep breath and said, "Where's Mother?"
"She had a meeting this morning," Fredrick answered without offering any more information. Annabeth didn't mind. Her mother had been by her side almost everyday since Annabeth had been put on bed rest. It was actually kind of nice to get away from her for once.
Annabeth bit her lip. "I'm scared," she told her father, putting all of the fear and anxiety and worry that she was feeling into those two words.
Fredrick took her hand. "I know, sweetheart," he said softly, "but it'll be okay. You're the strongest person I know. You can do this."
Annabeth looked up at him. "Can I see him?" she asked. "Percy?" When her father shook his head, she opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted when a servant scurried in to tell the king that was needed in the Great Hall.
Fredrick squeezed Annabeth's hand, then stood up. "Will you be okay?" he asked her, concern written all over his features. When she nodded, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then, he left.
Annabeth pulled the blankets to her chin, and curled up into a tight ball. She felt so, so overwhelmed. She wished that she could just hide in her bed, and not be bothered by anything - no visions, no tumor, no surgery. She desperately wished that she could see Percy. Fight or no fight, Annabeth needed him.
She scrunched her eyebrows together. She was being so pitiful. Gods, how weak did she seem to everyone around her? How weak did she seem to her kingdom? They needed a strong queen who wouldn't let a tumor bring them down. So far, Annabeth hadn't been that queen.
Hating herself more than ever, Annabeth made a quick decision, and began to drag herself out of bed. Her limbs screamed in pain - or maybe they screamed with joy at finally being used again. As she stood, her head spun and she quickly sat back down on her bed, letting the wave of nausea pass. When she felt that she was okay to stand up again, she did so and began to take small, shaky steps to her closet.
Annabeth smiled as she watched her legs move. She was doing it. She was walking by herself. It may have been a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.
She made it to her closet, stumbling no more than two times. With much difficulty, she got herself dressed in her training attire: brown pants, white shirt, brown leather vest, and her lace-up combat boots. Once she was finished getting dressed, she stumbled out to her vanity and quickly pinned her hair up so that it was out of her face. After pinning her last curl, she leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. Her head was spinning and her stomach was twisting, but overall, she felt good. At least she wasn't on the floor and puking her guts up yet. That would have been embarrassing considering the fact that she hadn't even left her room yet.
After a long exhale, Annabeth straightened and began walking towards the door, using the wall to support her. She got out of her room fairly easily and, thankfully, there weren't any servants in the halls at that time. Annabeth made it a ways down the hall, still using the walls for support, before she ran into Piper.
"Annabeth!" Piper shrieked. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"
Annabeth lurched forward with all of the energy she had, and threw her hand over Piper's mouth. Piper's eyes grew wide with frustration, but the more she struggled to free herself from Annabeth, the tighter Annabeth's grip became.
"Please," she pleaded, "I can't go back in there. I've been stuck in there forever, and I'm so weak and pitiful and I hate it. Please don't say anything. Please."
When Piper's eyes softened, Annabeth removed her hand from her mouth. Piper shot her a reassuring smile. "I won't say anything," she promised. Then, almost as an after thought, she said, "Where are you going?"
Annabeth tried for a mischievous smile. "I'm going to shoot," she said. Piper gave her a doubtful look, like she didn't believe that Annabeth was strong enough to even hold a bow, much less shoot an arrow. Annabeth didn't think so either, but she wasn't going to say anything. She just wanted out of her bedroom.
"I'll go with you," Piper offered, but Annabeth shook her head.
"No," she said, maybe a little too sharply. "I need to be alone. Please."
Piper stared at her for a second before nodding reluctantly. "Okay," she said. "I'll be cleaning your room if you need me."
Annabeth smiled in thanks at her, and Piper smiled back briefly before running off. Annabeth was alone.
She kept moving. It took her what felt like hours, but was probably only twenty minutes to get to the staircase that would lead her outside. She pumped herself up to walk down it, and was about to take her first step when she heard voices coming to the right of her. Her head whipped in that direction, and found a door there that was cracked open enough for the soft murmur of voices to carry out into the hall.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Annabeth dragged herself over to the door. She peered through the crack, and her eyes widened. It took everything in her not to gasp or burst through the door and tear everything inside apart.
The queen was inside the room, chatting with a short, plump elderly woman. Both woman were standing around a white, very elegant and fancy dress. It took Annabeth's brain a minute to register that the lace and tulle creation in front of her was a wedding gown.
"Maybe it should be tighter here," Athene was telling the woman - a seamstress, Annabeth figured. She pointed to the bodice of the dress, which was decorated with lots of sparkling diamonds and pearls. The seamstress nodded and began to make the adjustments, looking towards the queen for approval.
Annabeth didn't wait to see if her mother approved of the adjustment. She scrambled away from the door, trying not to panic. Panic meant visions and visions meant that her mother would have known she was spying. Instead, Annabeth took a deep breath and scrambled down the staircase, using her newfound energy and adrenaline. She burst through the door that lead to the outside, and fell against the wall of the castle. She put her head between her knees and took long, deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.
Her mother still intended to have her marry Luke. She thought that because of this whole tumor thing, her parents would have mercy on her and break off her engagement to Luke. She never expected to marry Percy, but she had imagined that they would take away his charges and let him go free. Then maybe they could have figured out some way . . .
All of that was gone now. Her entire fantasy had vanished in the blink of an eye. She should have known that her mother wouldn't have let her get out of this marriage that easily. No, in the queen's mind, if she survived the surgery, the wedding could still go on. She would become queen.
She would marry a conspirator.
Slowly, she lifted her head up and wiped away her tears. Her heart hardened with resolve. She would not marry Luke. She would find someway to get out of it and if that meant standing up to her mother, then so be it. But not right then. Right then, she needed something else.
She needed to find Percy.
I just finished The Winner's Crime and my heart has been shattered into a million pieces and I don't know how I'm going to live because I just nEED ARIN AND KESTREL TO KISS. Does anyone else feel my pain? Like, I feel like the entire plot would be resolved if Kestrel told Arin the truth and they kissed. I just . . . I'll be in a coma until March 1st, just so you all know.
But seriously, if you haven't read The Winner's trilogy, that is some top-notch fantasy. Read it. Now. And then discuss with me because, as usual, mone of my friends have read it and I AM DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT.
Review, follow, favorite!
"Just then a woman who had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding came up behind him. She touched the fringe of his robe for she thought, 'If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.' Jesus turned around, and when he saw her he said, 'Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well.' And the woman was healed at that moment." Matthew 9:20-22