"Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood
Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love "
~Ophelia by The Lumineers
Thank you to hancakes (you know it! hahaha let the escalation commence), Guest, DaughterofAthena21 (yes! I planned 30 chapters for the fic and it's already completed. I don't want it to end too! Maybe eventually I'll post some spin-off fics), and Hellewise17 (Can't wait for you to read 24!) for all your lovely reviews.
cxvi.
Triton, Annabeth types into the search bar on Google
0 results found.
The cursor blinks accusingly back at her.
Charlie, do you remember anything from Ancient Greek Heroes? - Annabeth
LOL barrrreeeeely. Why? - Charlie
Just have a question about Greek mythology. - Annabeth
Dude I took that class more than two years ago. Plus it's a gem so I barely went to lecture - Charlie
Just humor me. - Annabeth
K… - Charlie
Do you remember who Triton is? - Annabeth
that's Ariel's dad - Charlie
LMAO I still remember how we got in trouble with Prof Nguy saying that anytime Triton came up - Charlie
Yeah, fun times… - Annabeth
Well, everything on the Internet about him was wiped. Is that the same for you? - Annabeth
[Charlie is typing] Annabeth stares nervously at the screen, biting her pointer finger. At least it seems like for all that GIW can do, erasing memories from the human consciousness is not something they can do.
WOAH I can't find a single thing about him - Charlie
That's so weird - Charlie
I literally remember seeing his Wikipedia page like two years ago when we had to do that project on Pallas - Charlies
How did you even know about this? - Charlie
[Annabeth is typing]
She stops. How can she even begin to explain this to her mortal friend?
Don't worry about it. I'm just curious. - Annabeth
Are you poking into stuff you shouldn't be bothering with again? - Charlie
Please tell me you aren't - Charlie
Omg - Charlie
I swear to God, Annabeth. You can't do this again - Charlie
cxvii.
Dinner is a quiet affair by herself. Annabeth barely makes an effort to boil some pasta for herself and lather it with some canned Alfredo sauce. She still hasn't had a chance to drop by the grocery store yet.
Then, the shadows bend and two figures stumble out – Nico, who barely nods in her direction before inviting himself to her fridge to scour for some soda, and Will, who flashes her a sunny grin before closing in for a hug.
"I haven't seen you in so long, Annabeth. I've missed you!"
Annabeth debates whether she should tell them what really happened.
She gestures the two for them to settle on her couch, "Nico, I don't have any soda in the fridge. Quit looking. There's some freezer water if you really want a drink, though."
Nico makes a face at her suggestion.
It's an old inside joke Annabeth has with the two: once, in college, Annabeth invited Nico and Will over for a party. Cameron had put some vodka in the freezer in a nondescript bottle; the face Nico made when he took a big gulp before spitting it all out in disgust was priceless.
"I'm not on a college budget anymore, it's the good stuff." Annabeth asserts defensively, and Nico rolls his eyes again.
"Don't be a bad influence, 'beth. Neeks is not going to be 21 until later this year." Will chips in.
"I'm at least, like, 87," Nico calls from the couch.
"Don't be dramatic, Mister Ghost King."
Annabeth watches the two with interest, feeling slightly envious at the ease they have with each other.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Annabeth asks, noting how tired both of the boys look.
"I can't just come a visit?" Will whines. "Besides, Nico hasn't seen you in so long."
Annabeth returns a skeptical look at her friend. Nico and her never really have much of a need to see each other; sometimes, she isn't sure if Nico is still bitter over what happened with Bianca. She would understand if he is still resentful towards her.
"You won't be shadow traveling in if this is just a leisurely visit." Annabeth opts to say instead.
"Good point," Will sighs, and Annabeth braces herself. "It's about Sam and Alyssa."
"What about them?" Annabeth asks tightly.
"They had been in a lot of pain the past two weeks, and Chiron had to pull me out from class to get to Camp to see what's wrong with them. Some sort of a divine illness. Sam even tried to drown himself, which honestly didn't seem possible to me until I saw what he did today. So, things are bad. So I was just wondering if you know anything about this, since you're, uh, since you're close with their dad."
Annabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. Her eyes dart over to her windowsill, where the moonlace plant still sits. Usually it makes her calmer to look at the plant, but it just makes her feel sad at the moment.
"I'm not close with Triton."
"But I thought—"
"Percy's their uncle. He claimed them because Triton didn't want to bother." Annabeth says, wincing when she realizes how crass she is being.
"Ah," Will nods, understanding.
"But something happened to Triton," Annabeth continues. "He's gone, somehow. Dead, if that's even a term applicable to gods. I don't know the details."
"Oh, Hades," Will curses.
"Mind your language, dad hates it when people do that." Nico says and Will doesn't even bother to roll his eyes. He sinks his weight further into the sofa, leaning back and rubbing his hand over his forehead as if a headache is surfacing.
"But that'll explain why the ocean's all fucked up for the past two weeks," Nico comments, not as bothered, mindlessly pressing buttons on her tv remote to switch through channels.
"Ignore him, he's just cranky from me making him shadow travel all day."
"Not my fault that Columbia is so far from Camp and Camp is so far from Annabeth's apartment!" Nico calls out.
Will just waves his hand at him.
Annabeth finishes making some tea by her kitchen counter and opts to sit by her dining table so she doesn't have to get between the two of them on the couch.
Even though Nico seems carefree in his mannerisms, Annabeth can still tell that he is deeply troubled. The son of Hades shakes his right leg back and forth, and Annabeth knows that it's a tic that only shows when he is antsy and nervous.
She wonders if he's already been around trying to gather intel from the Roman camp, and if Nico has known the true lineage of Samuel Douglas and Alyssa Gutwein all along.
"But this is serious business, isn't it? How can anyone just get to Poseidon's second-in-command?" Will asks.
"That's what I'd like to know, too." Annabeth sighs.
"You don't think—"
"I'm not volunteering for tribute if there's another war coming," Annabeth warns, "I'm too old for this."
"Yeah, not after Alaska, I guess." Nico mutters and Annabeth fixes him with a stare.
"How did you know?"
"The dead talks," Nico offers, as if that explains everything. Perhaps dead man tells no tales is just a saying after all.
"Nico," Will scolds and shoves his elbow to the son of Hades' side. Then he turns to Annabeth, "hey, I'm sorry. He doesn't know when to shut up. Are you okay?"
What kind of a question is that? How can she be okay?
How can she be okay, after knowing that Clark or Jared or whoever probably blabbed about her to all of the Underworld, making it so that her closest friends know what she's done? How can she be okay when it feels like any semblances of normalcy is violently yanked out from under her feet just at the mention of the state?
"It's fine," Annabeth offers a superficial smile. "I'm fine."
Will returns one to reassure her, but it is not that effectively. There's a small voice inside Annabeth that wonders if the true reason that Nico and Will didn't bother her was not to give her space, but rather because they were both afraid of her and what she's done.
cxviii.
"Hey, you're home," Annabeth greets. Percy is sitting by the dining table on Friday when she gets home.
"Yeah," he acknowledges. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," Annabeth admits, putting down her work bag by the doorway.
He stands up, pocketing the drachma he has been flipping in between his fingers.
She wants to give him a kiss – they haven't shared one since nearly two weeks ago, right before they crossed the border from Alaska back to the land of the gods. But she knows that he hasn't been doing well, and she doesn't know if this is an appropriate time to show him some of her long repressed affection.
If she were stronger and braver, Annabeth would have told him that she loves him. Annabeth knows that she can still tell him now. But she still can't find the courage for it. She hopes that he doesn't resent her for that; she's never been good with words.
There's also a part of her that wonders if Triton's death had occurred during the time that they were in Alaska, and if Percy blames her for holding him up so that he was not able to get to his brother on time. If that would have changed anything. It's a small thought, but it's been eating her up for the past two days.
Percy makes no indication if he can sense her internal turmoil.
"You're thinking too much, Annabeth," he only hesitates a little before closing the distance between them, whispering "is this okay?" and waiting for her small nod before pressing his lips onto hers.
The sea god's lips are soft; a rush of emotion surges through Annabeth and she wants to cry. Some of that unbidden feeling surges through her, threatening to overwhelm the dam that she's installed in herself the past few days.
It is as if he knows. A current of warmth sweeps through her. She doesn't know what Percy did, but his presence is calming and reassuring, and a brief moment later, the concern of his perception of her mostly evaporates.
He pulls her into an embrace, and he sighs contently into her shoulder, relaxing his own.
"Are you okay?" She asks, pulling away slightly and levelling a stare at him.
"That's a relative term. But I'm better now that I am here with you." He says.
"Where were you?" Curiosity gets the better of her. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Annabeth adds hastily. It's not like he has an obligation to tell her.
"There were some discussions on Olympus as to what kind of a response we should issue. And what I'd have to do if it escalates." He says.
"You?" Why you?"
"I don't have a choice," He shrugs, not offering more. Percy's tone is casual, but Annabeth has a feeling that this conversation was a big deal.
She wants to press and assert you always have a choice and ask if he's back for good, or if she won't be able to keep him anymore for whatever that comes next, but she decides that the question can wait.
Quiet times like this has been hard to come by recently. They can pretend that eternity stretches in front of them, as it had back in the Fall.
She doesn't want to ruin the weekend if it means that they can spend the time together and pretend that nothing is amiss for a split moment. Maybe that's what he's here for, too.
What's the crime in enjoying ignorance when that is bliss? For all that Athena is wise, most of her children never learned that knowledge does not always equate to power. Annabeth had to sacrifice a lot to learn this the hard way.
She thinks back to a quote she's heard somewhere, how things are only worth it because they end. She is inclined to agree with the philosophy for most things – life, achievements, entertainment, fame, wealth – but not this.
"Things are always better when we are together," she says, steering the conversation away from dangerous waters and back to respond to what Percy said earlier, and he nods. He's been waiting for her to come to this conclusion herself. Sighing, Annabeth asks, "have you had anything to eat yet?"
He shakes his head.
"Want me to make something?" Annabeth offers, even though that she knows he doesn't need food, and that he can probably derive more pleasure from consuming ambrosia than whatever she can possibly offer him.
He shakes his head again with a small grin, "I don't plan on getting food poisoning tonight."
"You are a god, you ass. You can't get food poisoning even if you try. I am somewhat competent at making spaghetti and meatballs; I don't see you complaining before!" Annabeth exclaims, exaggerating some of her reaction, and feeling pleased when she sees a small smile blossom on Percy's face. It makes her heart bloom.
"Alright, alright. Surprise me, then."
Ironically, Annabeth decides on getting take-out, partly because she doesn't really trust her culinary ability for anything other than pasta (and she's already had pasta the night before), partly because she wants to just lay with him and feel his warmth next to her, trying to reel her mind in to focus on the present.
She's never liked the winter. New York is always gloomy at the end of January, and snow storms in the past weeks peppered the sidewalk with grey slush. The sun sets exceptionally early and Apollo doesn't seem too keen on changing that anytime soon. Though Annabeth doesn't think that she has seasonal depression, it dampens her mood by quite a lot.
But he's here with her, and that's what counts. Ten months in, and still, every moment in time with him sips like a bottle of fine wine.
cxix.
They are past the whispers of fervent are you sures but being twisted in bed sheets with him still feels sweet and soft.
Annabeth treads softly because she feels like she is treading on some fragile dreams.
When she looks at him, she sees the love and tenderness in his eyes when it is not marred by sadness. In bed, she turns away to look at the dew on her window sill; he traces the scars on her bare back and mutters, "you're just clay." She doesn't like the wistfulness dissected from his voice.
This reminds her of the myth (or perhaps it is actual history) of how Prometheus sculpted humans from clay. Each had four arms and four legs.
Each of these proto-humans proved to be too powerful.
Feeling threatened, Zeus ordered the Titan to separate each of these individuals into two, shaping them after the image of the gods. So the proto-humans are separated into women and men; Apollo healed the physical wounds that resulted from the separation, but the forceful detachment casts a permanent shadow in the heart, a hole that cannot be made whole until the two find each other again.
And when they do, the couple would be strong and stable, powerful enough to threaten the gods.
That's the origin of soulmates, anyway.
When she first hear about this tale from Silena around the campfire after the sing-a-longs one night many summers ago, most of her siblings found that to be a silly story. Annabeth did, too. It's easy to be cynical about tales like this when abandonment is all she ever knows.
But laying next to him, Annabeth thinks that she may be inclined to believe. Gods don't have souls – so what? She wants to believe that he is hers anyway.
He draws her in like she is the tides and he is the moon; Annabeth has been in relationships before, in college, but none of that compares to the connection she feels with Percy.
Sometimes, in her sleep, Annabeth dreams of strange flashes of life that never actually happened in reality.
She would be twelve at the back of a van – dark and shuddering occasionally from years of abuse. When she tries to peer through the haze to figure out where she is, Annabeth can make out the shape of Argus driving her, Grover, and an impossibly young Percy Jackson to the start of a quest; she sees her own hand take out a pack of Double Stuffed Oreo from her bag.
Annabeth watches as she passes the rest of the Oreos to him like it's a vessel of promise for their friendship.
Other times, Annabeth sees herself crying into his embrace underwater as he counsels her on her realization of loss in the Sea of Monsters under the sirens' influences. There are more snippets of her sniping at Rachel over him (even when she and Rachel had been nothing but amicable for the years they have known each other), her kissing a teenage Percy desperately in Mt. St. Helens before it blows up, her believing that he's dead and mourning, waiting, berating herself for a failed quest, her taking the knife for him after a summer of cold shoulders, and her kissing him again before being thrown into the lake by their friends. She feels the devastation of his kidnapping and the ecstasy of their reunion and then the fear and determination when they both fall into the pits of Tartarus together, and finally, the sweetness of the declaration of love when she hears his promise to her in Greece.
Annabeth only remembers these dreams (dreams that are much more vivid than they ever have any rights to be) before she falls asleep, between the land of consciousness and Morpheus. When she wakes up, they disappear immediately and she feels nothing but a sense of loss.
In the twilight of sleep, she recognizes them and wants to grasp on them desperately because she knows that in that reality, they are so happy.
It is not fair that they exist in this pained limbo instead, where they skirt around each other for an entire year, too afraid to declare and speak their emotions into actuality because of a chasm her mortality and stubbornness carves between them.
Maybe it's her fault, but it's too late now. They are teeing up for the next challenge and maybe it's not meant to be A Big Deal, but she feels the change that is about to come.
She's just not prepared for it at all.
cxx.
February comes after another couple of weeks. Annabeth almost falls into a false sense of security but she knows better.
The blanket of comfort is never real; it is just a lull before the storm. Annabeth Chase is a demigod, after all – her senses of apprehensiveness have rarely failed her. And she's felt that something is looming over their head for a while now. It's out of reach, but it's on the horizon.
"What's wrong, Annabeth?"
"Nothing."
"This doesn't seem like nothing to me. Tell me." He fixes her with emerald green pools, and she relents.
"Percy, don't take this the wrong way; I'm just afraid."
"Afraid of?" He asks, but he already knows.
"We keep talking about images and perceptions. Let me know if you don't want to talk about this, but I keep thinking about what happened to Triton. They erased him by vanishing traces and mention of who he is. Can't they do the same to other gods?"
"Yes," Percy says hesitantly, knowing that confirmation in the wrong hands can wreak havoc.
"So how are you protecting yourself? How are other gods protecting themselves?"
"My domain is more rooted in elements with permanence than Tri's, and as far as I know, I don't have any mortal children running around. You don't need to worry about me."
Annabeth purses her lips. Even if Percy is referring to the constant beats of the riptides, she knows that nature can be destroyed. Pan had been a good example. And who is to say that there is nothing else that the agents can do to use to extract his essence?
But that's not the only thing that she is worried about.
"They don't have to destroy something else to destroy you, Percy. They are smart; they will use you against yourself. You have so much power – so much that it's unfathomable to me. Sometimes I'm just a little concerned about that control.
"How easy would it be for you to destroy everything, even accidentally? If that happens, how do you think the mortals will view you? Do you know what that warped sense of perception can do to your being?"
Annabeth is addressing two concerns that have been brewing in her mind: one, Percy's wellbeing and safety from mortals and two, the wellbeing and safety of the world from Percy.
"I didn't kill those agents, you know, if that's what you are referring to." He says hesitantly. "I know I don't have the best control over my powers and I need those cuffs when it gets too much, but I didn't do more to those agents beyond what I had to in Alaska. I can't guarantee that they all lived, but I don't just destroy." He ends on a more bitter note.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Annabeth asks, surprised.
"I didn't know if you wanted to. And for that matter, I didn't know if you would approve that I let them live and leave. Plus, I know I have a sort of reputation already; don't think that I am not aware of some of these whispers about me."
She doesn't know how to respond. What does it say about her when a god thought that she'd be less merciful than he? What can she say when she's heard these shares of rumors about Perseus the Destroyer, and believed them for the most part?
A/N: someone should take me by the shoulders and shake me until i understand the concept of how to stop being a people pleaser
if you are Doctor Strange, please examine the different possibilities of my future and let me know what to choose next so I can have the highest utility & happiness one day