Falling asleep perfectly content did nothing to ward off Annabeth's nightmares.

She knew one was overdue, and earlier she'd practically welcomed it, if only to gain new information. As the scene sprawled open before her, Annabeth realized that there were some things she would have preferred to have been kept in the dark about.

She was on a path, the same one she'd dreamt of a few nights ago— only now she wasn't inside her own body, walking side by side with Luke, but watching from an outside perspective.

It was strange to see herself like this, especially so small. She already had a determined expression securely planted on her little face, one Annabeth recognized well from seeing her own reflection. They were nearing the fork in the road now, and sure enough Mercury's image shimmered before them like a mirage. Annabeth spotted him before Luke did, tugging on his hand and pointing.

Luke glanced up; his expression souring as soon as he caught sight of his father.

"Wait here," he instructed.

"But—"

"I'll be right back," Luke said, already quickening his pace towards the fork in the road. The young version of Annabeth stayed behind, mouth turned down in a pout, but dream Annabeth was following Luke; drifting beside him like a ghost.

Mercury looked just the same as Annabeth recalled him, though she'd never gotten as close a look as this. He wore a simple white toga, which did nothing to distract from the fact that his skin was glowing a faint gold in the sunlight, nor that his staff had two snakes twisting in real time around each other. Annabeth glanced down at his shoes, remembering she'd found them fascinating as a child. They had wings on their heels, just as she remembered.

His eyes were an icy blue, exactly the same shade as Luke's. She hadn't been close enough to see them before, but she noticed it now.

"Father," Luke said, stiffly. He stood just beyond what would be considered a polite conversational distance. Annabeth could see Mercury's eyes tracing the space between them, but he did not acknowledge his son's cold greeting, or his apparent displeasure at seeing him.

"Hello, son," Mercury said. There was something heavy in his voice, or maybe that was just the way gods spoke: like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"Why are you here?" Luke asked.

Mercury's expression flickered, eyebrows pulling into a frown for half a second before they righted into a smooth, neutral expression.

"I have a message. And a warning."

Luke scoffed, a bold move all things considered. Mercury said nothing, but Annabeth saw him grip the base of his staff just a bit tighter.

"I prayed to you for months— years; and now you decide to show up? You can keep your messages."

Luke turned to leave, but Mercury grabbed his shoulder before he could. Luke glared at his father, but was clearly unwilling to try and break his grip. Maybe it was stronger than it looked, but Annabeth suspected that Luke was actually more interested in hearing what his father had to say than he let on.

"Luke," Mercury said, voice dangerously thin, "You would do best to heed me."

"It seems I don't have much of a choice," Luke said, shrugging off Mercury's hand but making no moves to try and leave again.

"You always have a choice," Mercury said. The heavy quality had returned to his voice, making it sound low and exhausted.

Luke said nothing, clearly either not believing his father, or refusing to acknowledge that by staying he was making a choice— to hear him out.

Mercury sighed, long and deep.

"This path you are going down is dangerous. Soon you will be outside the realm of the gods— outside of my sphere of protection."

Luke actually laughed at that, high and completely without humor. Mercury made no reaction, just looked at his son with the same clenched jaw and sad eyes he'd worn this entire conversation.

"Protection? When have you ever—"

"Your arrogance is astounding, Luke," Mercury snapped, anger finally flashing across his features, "Do you know how many times I have imparted my blessing on you, granted you safe travel? You and the girl would be dead twenty times over without my assistance. I've already interfered well beyond what I should."

Red was creeping up Luke's neck, though whether it was embarrassment or anger, Annabeth couldn't tell. He had no rebuttal though— perhaps because Mercury had brought Annabeth into the argument. Her younger self was still standing behind them, completely oblivious, looking curiously at the conversation and trying to figure out who the strange man was.

"Was that your warning?" Luke asked sullenly. He clearly wasn't keen to be yelled at again, but from the way his knuckles were turning white on the grip of his sword Annabeth would wager that his anger hadn't totally dissipated either.

Mercury grimaced, clearly already regretting his outburst.

"No. That was my message. My warning is this— if you choose to continue down this road, to work outside the gods, you cannot take the girl with you."

Luke clearly had not been expecting that. His neck twitched, repressing a desire to turn around and look at younger Annabeth still behind him.

"Why?" he asked, posture and voice equally stiff. However much he loathed his father's presence, he still needed the answer to this question. Mercury just shook his head.

"You must understand that what you are doing is dangerous. It would be infinitely more so for her."

"But why?" Luke pressed.

"You would not understand, even if I told you," Mercury said, with another shake of his head.

"Then how can I know you tell the truth?" Luke asked. His free hand had started to ball into a fist.

"You have to trust me," Mercury said, "Trust that I have your best interests at heart, and—"

"Of course," Luke cut in, voice scathing, "My best interests. Were you thinking of my best interests when you sent me on that little errand that gave me this—" he pointed at the scar on his face, white and prominent in the sun, "Or were they yours? Everything you've told me so far just sounds like an attempt to save yourself, not me, and not Annabeth."

Mercury had winced a bit when Luke mentioned his scar. He almost looked like he wanted to speak, but seemed to sense that he would not get a word in edgewise until Luke was finished. And Luke was not finished.

"She's a demigod too, you know. And her parent, whoever they are, just left her for dead. If I hadn't found her—" his voice wavered dangerously, but he swallowed and moved on, "They've never once shown themselves to her. Never tried to help her. And you only show up when you want something from me. But I've found a better way, someone who will help us— both of us."

"Luke," Mercury said, and his voice wasn't angry like Annabeth expected; just sad, and very, very tired, "If you take the girl with you, she will die."

Luke froze, blue eyes widening reflexively.

"You're lying," he said, voice wavering with unconvincing accusation. Mercury shook his head.

"I'm not. But even if I was, would you be willing to risk her life?"

Annabeth couldn't feel her body in her dream, but if she could she knew her heart would be beating rapidly now. Everything was starting to fall into place— why Luke had been acting strangely, why this conversation had shaken him so badly, and most of all why he had left her in the first place.

Luke swallowed roughly, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

"Who is her godly parent?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you that," Mercury said, simply.

"Is it you?" Luke asked, half a twinge of hope in his voice.

That surprised Annabeth, though she supposed it probably shouldn't have. She had never told Luke about her mother— though judging from how he'd just spoken, that might have been a mistake— and they did look similar at first glance. But Luke's hair was lighter than hers by a wide margin, more white than gold. And their eyes were different too— Luke's were blue like the afternoon sky, whereas Annabeth's were grey as a stormcloud. They could pass for siblings, and had on many occasions, but if you looked closely the illusion of similarity fell apart fairly quickly.

Luke's question made Mercury just barely smile.

"No, I'm not," he said, though the smile faded away before his next words.

"Her legacy is complicated, dangerous. She will understand in due time, but you will not be there to witness it."

Annabeth had seen a glimmer of disappointment run across Luke's face when Mercury had answered in the negative, but now it was replaced by a hardened, angry expression.

"So that's it? I just have to— to leave her?"

"You could stay with her," Mercury suggested, unable to keep the pleading out of his tone, "You could abandon this path you're taking, make the right choice."

Luke said nothing, considering. If Annabeth did not already know how the story ended, she might have thought he was seriously considering his father's advice. But she knew what happened next.

"I am making the right choice," Luke said finally, "And it's bigger than me and her."

Mercury looked at his son, no less saddened than when they had begun their conversation. It seemed that he had known just as well as Annabeth what Luke was going to choose.

"So be it, then. I will not be able to contact you, or help you again."

"Wait—" Luke said, reaching out his free hand, probably unconsciously. It caught Mercury's attention anyways, and the god looked at him expectantly.

"You can't protect me anymore, but you can still protect her. Please, when I—" Luke's voice caught, clearly unable to say the words when I leave, "When she's… alone. If you ever loved me, keep her safe."

Mercury's gaze softened. Annabeth saw his eyes trail over Luke's shoulder to where her younger self was now sitting on the ground, bored, waiting, and having very little idea that her life was about to fall apart.

He was clearly hesitant, perhaps wondering if Annabeth could be the thing to keep Luke on the right side. If he agreed to protect Annabeth, it would just make it easier for Luke to make the wrong choice.

But Mercury seemed to realize that Luke's mind was made up either way. Or maybe he was just determined to prove in some small, final way that he loved his son.

"I will lead her to friends. After that, her fate is in her own hands."

Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed. Annabeth knew now that Mercury had made good on his promise. It had taken a few years, but to a god, she supposed, that was probably nothing.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"Yes. It is," Mercury said, but he did not leave— not until Luke turned his back on him. Then he melted away into soft golden light, as if he'd never been there at all.

Annabeth had other dreams that night, but she did not remember them. She just felt flashes of things, bare glimpses of scenes, everything shifting so quickly she could not retain anything at all. When she woke, it was with a gasp.

It was still early, she could tell by the faint light streaming through the small window, and by the way Perseus was still asleep beside her.

Annabeth wasn't surprised or disoriented to be waking up in his room, not even when her eyes first opened. Waking up here, next to him, felt more comfortable than anything she'd ever experienced. She would have preferred the first time it had happened to not have been preceded by a dream like that, though.

She sat up, noting as she did that she was a bit sore from the previous night's… activities. As much as she'd like to think about that, the memory she'd seen in her dream was her most pressing concern.

Everything made sense now, a little too much sense. So much sense that she felt stupid for not realizing it earlier. She didn't know how she'd seen what she'd seen, but she knew intrinsically that it was an accurate depiction of what had happened that day.

Annabeth had been naively hoping that Chrysaor had been bluffing when he mentioned Luke's name, but in her heart of hearts she'd always known he had told the truth.

Towards the end, Luke had been acting strange, speaking to himself. She'd always contributed that change to the visitation from Mercury, but that hadn't been the root cause, just the final straw. If she was honest, he'd been acting erratically even before that. Now she realized that he hadn't been speaking to himself at all— he'd been speaking to the voice. That, combined with Perseus's admission that he had seen the voice building a base of followers, a sort of cult of demigods that did his bidding, practically sealed the entire thing.

Luke was working with the voice, or maybe for it. She wasn't entirely sure, but clearly he was involved somehow.

Annabeth didn't realize she was trembling until she felt Perseus shift beside her, sit up and wrap an arm around her.

"Another dream?" he asked quietly. His voice was rough with sleep, but somehow still gentle. Annabeth just nodded, leaning back into his shoulder. The shivering was already starting to melt away at his touch, but the anxiety building in her stomach refused to dissipate.

"What did you see?"

Annabeth closed her eyes, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She should tell him about Luke, she knew she should, and yet the prospect of doing so felt insurmountable. It was worse than explaining the truth about herself. At least that she knew he'd understand, even if it had been difficult to overcome the years of conditioning that forced her to keep it a secret.

Luke was different. She'd told Jason and Piper about him in vague detail, just enough so they wouldn't question how she'd gotten her knife, or how she had survived so many years alone. But she'd also implied that he'd died, not that he'd left her. That had still been too painful to recount. A little part of her had always suspected (or on worse days, hoped) that he was dead, and that's why he had never come back. Now she knew it was the opposite— he'd never come back because doing so would result in her death, not his.

She could feel Perseus tensing slightly beneath her, getting more and more worried as more and more seconds passed by with his question unanswered.

"It was nothing," Annabeth said. It was a truly unconvincing lie, and did absolutely nothing to quell his worry. If anything it heightened it.

"That wasn't nothing," he said. She opened her eyes, looking up at him. He was looking down at her, expression etched in concern.

She didn't want to, but she leaned forward anyways; pulling herself away from his skin. Touching him made her feel drunk sometimes, and she wanted a clearer head. He loosened his arm, but kept his hand lightly around her waist, fingers resting on the bone of her hip.

"I just… it was just memories," Annabeth said. That wasn't technically a lie, though it wasn't exactly the truth either. The memory had only been half hers. Perseus just sighed.

"It still upset you, though."

Annabeth bit her lower lip. The light from the window was getting brighter by the minute, and the others would be up soon. She had to leave before that happened, and telling him everything would take ages.

"Later," Annabeth said, "I'll explain later, I promise."

He sighed again, but still pressed a kiss to her temple, a clear sign of surrender. Despite everything Annabeth couldn't help but smile at the feeling of her lips on her skin. Last night they'd slipped into an easy, natural rhythm of intimacy, and Annabeth was pleased to see it hadn't faded away in the morning.

"You should go back to sleep. You still look exhausted," he said. He still looked tired too, but Annabeth was willing to admit that, on this occasion at least, she probably needed the rest more than him. But sleeping in was a luxury she wasn't currently afforded.

"I can't. I have to go, before someone finds me in your bed," Annabeth said. It probably would have been more convincing if she'd made any effort to leave, and if her smile hadn't tampered with her tone, causing the words to come out amused even if she'd meant them seriously.

"Let them," Perseus said, his lips trailing dangerously down to her neck, "What's the worst that could happen?"

That was an absurd question, because the worst that could happen was in fact a very, very bad scenario. But she knew he wasn't being entirely serious, so she selected a lighter consequence instead.

"Well, Jason might take a swing at you, for starters."

That elicited a laugh from him, and she felt it in the steady vibration of his chest and in the hot breath on her neck.

"Would he really?"

"It wouldn't be the first time he's punched someone in my defense," Annabeth admitted, thinking back to one memorable occasion when, during a party, one of Jason's colleagues had gotten a little too drunk and a little too handsy with some of the women in the room, Annabeth included. She'd gotten rid of him fairly easily, but not before Jason (who had not been entirely sober himself) had noticed and punched the man in the face, breaking his nose in the process.

If it were up to her, she would have been the one doing the punching, though she had to admit it was satisfying to watch regardless of whose hand had taken the swing. The aftermath of the incident had been much less fun; she had to deal with not only the political ramifications, but also the increase in rumors about her and Jason being involved.

It had felt stressful at the time, but now it seemed a little trivial.

"Did they deserve it?" Perseus asked, amusement still running through his tone.

"Wholeheartedly," Annabeth assured him, "Moreso than you would, anyways."

"I could take Jason in a fight," Perseus said, a little cockily. Annabeth just rolled her eyes fondly, finally gathering the strength to pull herself off the bed and away from his touch.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't have to," she said, scooping her crumbled dress off the floor and slipping it on. Her bad arm twinged, but it seemed as though the nectar had just about finished the job overnight, healing the injury almost entirely. Her underclothes were a little more difficult to locate, but she found them and pulled them on too. Thank the gods Venus had made the clothes eternally clean.

He leaned down, picked up her belt from where he'd dropped it on the ground by the bed the night before.

"So you think I'd win?" he said, placing her belt in her waiting hand, though not without a smirk.

The honest answer was yes, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"On the sea, maybe, but only because you have an unfair advantage. On land you'd be an even match," she said, tightening her belt around her waist.

"I suppose that's fair," Perseus conceded, leaning back against the wall. She could feel his eyes instead of his hands now, sweeping over her body in blatant admiration. Anyone else's gaze like that would have been unwelcome, but she found herself enjoying his. It made her feel a little bit powerful, the way he got wrapped up in her so easily. That didn't mean he wasn't being completely obvious about it, though.

"You're really shameless, you know. Someone's going to notice," Annabeth chided, pulling her hair up into a lazy knot. He grinned at her.

"I'm just taking all of you in while I still can. Besides, you stare at me just as much."

"I do not," Annabeth protested, though she felt her face heat slightly. She knew he was right, she really did stare at him an inordinate amount. It was just difficult not to, when he looked like that.

"You do, but it's alright. I don't mind."

"That's very generous of you," Annabeth replied, trying and failing to keep her voice sarcastic.

"What can I say? I'm a giver," Perseus said, with a smug smile.

He'd known that would make her blush, the bastard. Given last night though, she couldn't exactly deny it.

"You're very arrogant this morning," Annabeth noted. She couldn't say she entirely minded— confidence was attractive on him— really, any emotion would be attractive on him, but confidence especially so— and she liked that they could talk and tease each other freely.

He just shrugged, expression unchanged.

"You have that effect on me."

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Almost entirely."

"I guess I'd better leave, then, so you can get back to normal," Annabeth said. She really should go, every extra second spent there was just increasing their chances of being caught. Her voice reflected that worry, the words coming out more serious than she'd meant.

He sighed heavily, and she knew the game was over.

"I forgot to give this back to you," he said, reaching over to the small table by the bed, pulling open a drawer. Suddenly, Annabeth's knife was in his hands.

It had never felt more like Luke's knife than it did right then. She didn't know why, exactly— maybe it was the dream, or maybe it was just the sudden inevitability of facing him again.

Perseus sensed her hesitation, she could tell from his frown. Before he could ask about it she took the knife from his hands, strapping it to her belt.

"Thank you," she said, offering him a small smile. He returned it, though she could tell his worry wasn't entirely faded.

"I suppose it would be too suspicious if we went up together," he said.

"You suppose correctly," Annabeth replied. With him kneeling on the bed like he was, they were just about eye level. She gave in to temptation, moving half a step closer and meeting his lips in what was meant to be a short kiss. He turned it into a long one, his hand catching the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair.

This kiss was slow, sweet and lingering, not at all like the desperately intense ones they'd shared the night before. She found it no less intoxicating, nor less revelatory. Already she could feel her other worries and priorities slipping away, replaced by a deep, resounding desire.

As much as she wanted to give into that desire, just say forget everything and spend the day there with him, the logical side of her brain managed to kick up enough of a fuss to prevent her from doing so.

When she did manage to drag herself away she was completely breathless.

"I have to go," she said, regret laced in every word.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, giving her one last brief kiss before dropping his hand from her waist, freeing her to leave.

Her knife felt heavier with every step she took away from him.