Prologue

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The coffee was cold in Annabeth's hand, but she didn't notice. She sat on the back porch step, a blanket draped over her shoulders. She watched the honeybees buzz from clover to clover. What a stupid job. They'd slave all day to please the queen, and then be right back at it tomorrow.

What pointless lives.

The porch creaked behind her, and Percy gently took the mug from her hand, replacing it with a hot one. He stayed beside her, his hand strong on her shoulder.

"I was thinking of painting the kitchen today." His voice was gentle. "Do you still want the blue?"

Annabeth's hand flexed around the mug; she didn't care. Still, she nodded. Then, after a minute, something connected. "We still have to do the primer."

There was a beat. Percy's hand tightened, holding her firmer. An anchor. "Babe. We already did that."

A cloud shifted over the clover, making the honeybees harder to see. Annabeth narrowed her eyes, staring ahead. They had? She tried to remember the day before, but it took effort. Time felt like a sieve. It was all too much work.

"Oh."

She could feel him looking at her. Somehow she knew her voice didn't sound like it should; it was flat, empty. It reflected the fact she didn't care about paint or coffee or honeybees.

Time passed. The clouds shifted. When some kind of noise went off in the house, Percy stood, pausing to kiss her temple.

She watched the bees. Her coffee turned cold.

...

"We don't need to go."

Percy stood behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. She closed her eyes, folding her fingers around his, sliding both their hands to rest over her now-empty abdomen. She hadn't known, once, that you could feel an absence inside you. She would give anything to not know again.

"I want to go," she whispered. "We don't have to agree to anything. We can just hear her out."

Percy's stubble scratched her ear. "It's Hera, Annabeth." His voice was very low. "Doesn't that raise a giant red flag for you?"

Of course it did. They both knew it did. But flags could come in any color, these days, and she'd still follow if they hinted at ending the absence.

She drew a long breath, tightening her hands over his. She opened her eyes. "Nothing scares me anymore."

…

The house was too big; that was a fact. A Victorian farmhouse, white and peeling, it had fallen into crumbling disrepair. As soon as Annabeth had seen it, she'd had a vision. She'd strip entire rooms, knock walls, redesign the interior into something magical. They'd rebuild the wraparound porch, repaint, make it all their own. And the rooms would be used; every last one. It wouldn't be just her and Percy. There would be little feet running from the bathtub, blanket forts in the living room, finger-paint handprints stamped along the stairwell.

A treehouse in the backyard. Baseball mitts and ballet slippers in the hall. Angsty teen music blaring from the bathroom.

She could taste it. It wasn't a plan like all her others; carefully strategized, sketched, and logical, stemming from the mind. It was deeper, primal, and not of the mind at all. It was rooted in the depths of her being. A heart plan.

And yet, as time passed and mounting frustration turned to joy which turned to sharp disappointment; as each disappointment passed through their lives, turning to heartbreak; as Annabeth walked through the cracked-plastered halls, which echoed with unfinished flooring and dusty insulation, the silent truth pervaded every corner; the house, despite everything, might remain too big.

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Arrogant. Presuming. Privileged.

Annabeth raised her chin and let the criticisms—no, the facts—hit her in the face. Yes, she and Percy were all of those things. Yes, the goddess of marriage and motherhood could list them off like items on a grocery list.

And no, they'd never questioned what it meant, to try and pass on Athena's legacy. No, they hadn't listened if anyone had warned them it couldn't happen. No, they hadn't considered that they could not get off scot-free, with only a heady dose of trauma for the road, to raise a beautiful little family and live their peaceful, picture-perfect lives.

Yes, they'd assumed. No, they hadn't thought it was too much to ask.

Yes, no, yes, no. Arrogant, presuming, privileged, indeed.

…

When the goddess of marriage and motherhood holds out her hand with an offering, a deal, you run. Any seasoned demigod knows that.

But that doesn't account for extra-seasoned demigods—tired warriors who, despite all odds, grew up. Half-bloods with old scars, college degrees, and wedding bands.

Patched-up, resilient heroes who hung up their camp necklaces, looked to the future, and began to live. Brave, hurting, wistful adults with heart plans.

And so the offering was accepted, the deal was made, the dice were rolled.

And there was no going back.

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Author's Note:
-Percy and Annabeth will be in parts of this story, but there will be new protagonists too. If you're here only for them, might not be the story you're after! :)
-I'll likely change the fic summary soon. I hate thinking of them so I just copy and pasted from the story for now.

All reviews make me very happy and encouraged to write! Thanks for reading.