Annabeth should have been thrilled that her plan was working. Instead, all she felt was dread.
She was starting to understand why everyone else had objected so vehemently to her idea in the first place— none of them had expected Octavian to be here, but Annabeth hadn't realized how much she had been depending on Luke being the one to find them. Luke would listen to her. Luke could maybe be convinced, and if not that, then stalled. Luke would at least hesitate to hurt her.
Octavian had proven time and time again that he would kill Annabeth if given the chance. Now, thanks to the circumstances that she herself had devised, he might just get it.
She sensed a small change in pressure as Fai leaped off her shoulder, felt a soft puff of air against her back that meant he had transformed into a bird, and was now flying away, completely undetected by Octavian. That part of the plan had worked flawlessly, at least.
Fai hadn't escaped a moment too soon. An instant later, they were surrounded. Whether the guards had come from the tunnel, which was still glowing ominously beside Octavian, or whether they had been silently laying in wait in the darkness all along, Annabeth wasn't sure, though it didn't much matter now.
Annabeth had to remind herself that not fighting was part of the plan. Perseus managed to not put up too much of a struggle either, despite the fact that he probably could have taken at least four of the guards single-handedly. But they were far too deep into the plan to try and change their strategy now.
Before long Riptide was confiscated, and their hands were bound behind their backs. They hadn't found Annabeth's knife yet, but she had a feeling that was the last bit of luck she was going to be allotted for a while.
Octavian could not have looked more smug as he watched them get tied up, crossing his skinny arms across his chest in a triumphant sort of gesture. Annabeth noticed that he was wearing heavy gold jewelry, which looked ridiculous and childish against his skinny frame.
"What are you doing here, Octavian? How did you even get here?" Annabeth asked, trying to ignore the ironclad grip of a guard on her shoulders.
Octavian's patronizing smile widened, to the point where Annabeth wished she hadn't even asked.
"There are faster ways to travel than by sea, if one is powerful and brave enough to use them."
Annabeth had to fight to not roll her eyes at his self aggrandizing and ultimately empty answer. He must have come by magical means, dark magical means; nothing Annabeth would have dared to try, not when safer paths existed. It was not a comforting thought, or even a particularly useful one. They already knew that whatever they were up against was evil.
"I thought you were busy pretending to be governor," Perseus said, raising his eyebrows in an impressively unimpressed gesture, "Did you get demoted to guard duty?"
Octavian glared at him, though whether it was Perseus's comment that had struck a nerve or his attitude, Annabeth wasn't sure.
"My master had a more important job for me here," Octavian said, shoulders stiffening.
"So you were demoted. Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Perseus smirked.
Annabeth had to admit it was satisfying to watch Perseus wind up Octavian, but she also wasn't naive to the fact that his mouth had gotten him in trouble before. She gave him a nervous glance, silently willing him to back down.
"I would not be so impertinent if I were you, son of Posiedon," Octavian snapped, "You are only still alive because my master requires it. If it were up to me, you would be dead already."
"I hear that a lot," Perseus said, straight-faced. Annabeth had to swallow down a laugh, despite how scared she was. Octavian just sneered at them.
"Laugh if you want. You won't be so jovial soon."
"Where's Luke?" Annabeth asked. It was a stupid thing to ask, given that it was betraying her weakness, and probably wouldn't be answered anyways. But she couldn't help herself.
Octavian straightened up slightly, sensing that the conversation was back in his control.
"You'll see him soon enough," he said, cryptically, "But that doesn't matter now. I'm not wasting any more time here."
He turned towards the tunnel, and suddenly Annabeth and Perseus were being shoved towards it too.
Annabeth's heart dropped like a stone. She swallowed heavily, trying to remind herself of the advantages this posed, rather than the very crushing downsides. Fai would know exactly where to lead the others, which meant they had reinforcements coming. But she hadn't anticipated the stronghold being underground. It would require a totally different offensive strategy, and would be much more difficult to navigate undetected. It would be difficult to escape, too.
But there was nothing she could do except let herself be led after Octavian.
The tunnel was narrow, muddy. It had the distinct smell of freshly tilled earth, though it looked as though it were at least a few years old. It was only wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and her and Perseus were separated, him being pulled behind her.
She couldn't tell how long or how far they walked— it could have been five minutes or fifty for all she knew. At least the path was mostly straightforward, and from what Annabeth could tell, mostly empty. The procession was silent, the only sounds being footfalls on the ground and the occasional clink of a sword hitting the wall.
Eventually the passage started to widen, subtly at first, and then all at once. Before she knew it they were standing in a wide cavern, with new tunnels branching off in several different directions.
"Take the girl to Luke. He wants to speak to her before the ceremony," Octavian said, turning to face them again, "I'll deal with the other one."
Annabeth's heart dropped straight to her stomach. She struggled against her guards, but it was no use. She knew she shouldn't, she knew this was technically all part of the plan, but at this point it was purely instinctual.
"No," Annabeth breathed, her voice horribly weak and small. She was already being pulled away from Perseus, who was struggling to get back to her, a rare flash of fear in his green eyes.
She'd told him earlier to let him go, but now she could see he'd never really intended to do that— or maybe it was her clear panic at being separated from him now that was causing him to fight just as hard as her. Maybe she had wanted to talk to Luke before, maybe some small part of her did still want to talk to him, but not like this. Not at the price of Octavian dealing with Perseus. The thought of what that could mean made her sick to her stomach.
"No!" she said again, stronger this time, but there was nothing she could do.
"I thought you wanted to see Luke again." Octavian said innocently. He just stood by and watched her struggle, as if the very idea of her fighting was beneath him. She stopped straining for just a brief second, breathing heavily as she looked up at him in disgust.
"I'm not leaving Perseus alone with you."
Octavian just looked down at her, his lip curled in sadistic amusement.
"It's endearing you think you have a choice."
She kept fighting, but it was no use. Against her will, Annabeth was dragged away down one of the tunnels. She could hear a struggle, Perseus yelling something, but soon enough the sounds faded away, muffled by distance and the earthy walls of the tunnel.
Annabeth's one consolation was that she didn't go quietly. She made life as difficult for her captors as possible, right up until they stopped in front of a door. It was long, wooden, and looked strange and out of place in this underground fortress. One of the guards knocked once, then opened the door and entered, pulling Annabeth in along with them.
It was a bizarre room. That was Annabeth's first thought. It was large, surprisingly open. The ceilings were high, the walls stone instead of earth. There was some marble inlaid in them, maybe for decoration, or maybe to make the place more stable. It looked to be a meeting room or an office of some sort, with a long wooden table.
One man sat at the head of it, already looking up as the door opened.
He looked almost the same as when she'd last seen him. Older, obviously, but not very much so. The scar on his cheek had faded with time, to the point where if Annabeth hadn't known to be looking for it, she might not have noticed it at all. His eyes were the same blue, his hair the same pale blonde.
"Annabeth," Luke said, setting down his pen and rising from his seat.
His voice was deeper, more unfamiliar, but she could still read the hope in his tone. He'd been waiting for her. She said nothing, kept her expression as blank as she could manage.
Luke's gaze flickered up from her face to the soldiers still keeping a grip on her arms.
"Leave us," he said.
"She, uh—" one of the guards started, probably about to warn Luke that Annabeth was acting completely deranged, and had spent the past five minutes fighting like a caged animal. Luke's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Leave," he said again, voice thin. The guard swallowed, nodded. Within the next few seconds they were gone, leaving Luke and Annabeth alone.
Annabeth counted three beats of silence before he spoke again.
"You've grown so much," he said, eyes hesitant, just a bit hopeful as he took her in. She said nothing, just looked back at him, jaw clenched.
His gaze dropped just a bit to her hands, still bound behind her back. He closed the space between them, undoing the knot with just his fingers. Annabeth held her breath as he did, determined to give him as little reaction as possible. Having her hands free did feel good, but it could easily just be a ruse to try and gain her trust. She rubbed her wrists as he stepped back but didn't say anything, refusing to give him even an ounce of satisfaction for his gesture.
He sighed, seeming to realize that this was not going to be the happy reunion he'd wanted it to be.
"I know I have a lot to explain," he started. Annabeth didn't let him finish.
"Where's Perseus?" she asked. His explanations were meaningless to her. She already knew the bulk of them, the biggest one, and letting him tell his side of it all would just be a waste of time.
"Annabeth—"
"Where is he?" Annabeth pressed. Luke sighed again, running a hand through his hair in defeat.
"He's alive. That's all I know."
That wasn't good enough. He had to know that wasn't good enough. But it was all she was going to get for now, and she hated him for it.
"Annabeth, just let me explain—"
"I know why you left," Annabeth said shortly. His eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"You do?"
"I saw the conversation you had with your father."
"How?"
"What does it matter how?"
She could have easily told him, but she could tell her curtness was starting to frustrate him. He wanted her forgiveness so desperately, and she was unwilling to give it. That was the only thing she had in her power right now, and she would have to be a fool not to use it.
"There's more to it than just that," he said. He was clearly trying to keep himself composed, not get too frustrated. Annabeth noticed his finger tapping restlessly against the surface of the table.
"I don't care," Annabeth said, surprised to find it was truthful. She really didn't. She'd never forgiven him for what he'd done, not exactly— but she wasn't bitter about it anymore either. Why he'd left, beyond feeling like he'd had to, didn't matter.
What did matter was here and now. Who he was working with, and what they were trying to do.
He studied her expression, seeming to realize that she meant what she said.
"I'm sure you have questions anyways," he said. It wasn't exactly an invitation, or a promise that he would answer them. He was baiting her, because he knew her, knew exactly what she was thinking right now. Turning the conversation back in his favor, away from her approval and onto his information.
Even knowing all that, she couldn't resist asking.
"Who are you working for?"
Luke smiled, entirely without humor.
"You're a clever girl, Annabeth. Surely you've figured that out."
She hadn't. She'd barely been trying to, if she was honest.
"What does it want?"
His smile didn't fade, nor did it soften into something kind. He had her curiosity piqued now, and he knew it.
"Just what he's owed. What we're all owed."
"And what exactly is that?"
Luke shrugged.
"His rightful place restored. A new age, one where demigods won't have to live in fear anymore, or depend on the gods to do the right thing when we all know they won't. They had their chance at ruling, and they failed."
Her subconscious was already starting to put the pieces together, but the front of her mind wasn't quite there. He'd given her everything she needed, of that she was sure. Male, a vendetta against the gods, a 'rightful place' to be reinstated. A disembodied voice, evil straight to the core.
Annabeth knew one figure that ticked every one of those boxes, and the thought of facing it just about brought her to her knees. But she couldn't show weakness, couldn't let Luke know he scared her. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, focusing on the end of his statement instead— that was something she could use, something she could manipulate to get more information.
"Is that why you kidnapped one of them?" Annabeth asked. He didn't bother to deny it, just gave a half-hearted shrug.
"In part. Her power has weakened over time, but what's left is still enough to help my master rise from Tartarus completely."
Annabeth's mouth went dry. She was starting to figure out several things all at once, and none of them were good.
"Why was your master so insistent that me and Perseus be kept alive, then?" she asked. Her question caught him off guard, and he faltered, the zealous light in his eyes dampening just slightly.
"Because I asked him to spare you. I wanted you to be here to see this."
His eyes flickered away from hers for half a second. It was small, but it was enough. He was lying. It wasn't even a good lie, all things considered, since he hadn't even bothered to answer the second half of her question.
"That's not why," Annabeth said. It wasn't a question, but her next statement was, "It has something to do with helping him rise, doesn't it? It's not just the goddess you need, it's us."
Luke exhaled slowly, closing his eyes briefly.
"You both were born of the old gods. It makes you uniquely powerful, uniquely useful."
"He's going to kill us," Annabeth guessed, a wave of nausea rolling over her.
"No, he won't," Luke said, very deliberately not breaking his gaze. It still felt like a lie, even if it was one Luke seemed to believe. "All we need is your allegiance. You connect the gods to their oldest forms, their deepest roots. If you reject them, turn your back on them like they deserve, their ties to the mortal world will be weakened."
Those words did nothing to reassure Annabeth. If anything, it just made her feel more certain that the voice wanted them to die. What better way to cut those ties than to destroy them?
"And if we refuse?" Annabeth asked, still half playing along in Luke's fantasy.
"Why should you? Your mother abandoned you. You didn't deserve that. What have the gods ever done for you, besides disappoint?"
"It's not that simple," Annabeth said, trying to keep her voice steady, even as a lump was forming in her throat. It wasn't, she knew it wasn't, even if that singular conversation with her mother had directed her entire life, scared her into hiding for years.
"Isn't it?" Luke asked, gesturing broadly, "They sent you on this quest, knowing it would be dangerous, knowing you would probably die when they could have just dealt with it themselves. My master was kind enough to clear your path to Athens, to keep the worst of the monsters at bay. He knew the gods would saddle you with this unfairly. He figured the least he could do was make sure you made it here alive."
Annabeth felt like she was going insane, like his words were digging around in her skull and trying to rewrite what she knew was the truth. It was his own fault they were on the quest to begin with, not the gods. His master wanted them to get here— he was working in his own interest, not Annabeth's. Not to mention the fact that Luke's master had had every intention of killing everyone but Perseus and herself.
And the gods— she wouldn't pretend that they had done all they could, but they weren't completely uncaring either. Perseus's and Jason's powers, Piper's knife and comb, even the clothes Annabeth was wearing right now— weren't they all proof that the gods cared for their children, even when they weren't supposed to? And the most irrefutable piece of evidence was Annabeth herself, standing here alive when by all accounts she should have died a long time ago.
Annabeth looked up at Luke, his face twisted with anger, almost unrecognizably so. He wasn't the same person he'd been all those years ago— maybe he never had been the person Annabeth thought he was.
"Your father saved my life," Annabeth pointed out.
That had been the wrong thing to say. Luke's fury finally spilled over the surface. Annabeth flinched as he swept his hand over the table knocking its contents to the floor. His bottle of ink smashed when it hit the ground, sending shards of ceramic everywhere.
"My father lied to me!" Luke yelled, "He knew how powerful your loyalty would be, he knew it could have changed everything. I was a fool to believe him."
Annabeth's heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes starting to burn.
"No, you weren't," she said, startling even herself with how calm her voice was, even if it was shaking, "You're not thinking, Luke. If your master wanted my allegiance so badly, why would he try and kill my friends? Why would he work with Octavian? It doesn't make any sense."
"He only did what was necessary," Luke insisted, "He will spare your friends, if you ask. It doesn't matter now whether they live or die."
The words hit worse than a blow to the face. Annabeth stared at him, appalled, but he didn't even seem to register what about his words had been so awful
"Can't you see that's why I can't join you?" Annabeth pleaded, "Of course it matters, Luke, it matters more than anything."
Luke winced, finally recognizing his error.
"That wasn't what I meant," he said, fists clenched. He was clearly trying to reign back his anger. Annabeth didn't trust his control, but her next words flew out of her mouth anyways.
"But it's what you said."
"Annabeth, please," Luke said, finally abandoning all pretense, "If you don't agree now—"
Annabeth cut him off. It was a stupid thing to do, considering the end of the that sentence was probably going to determine her fate, but it was going to happen one way or the other.
"It doesn't even matter. Perseus will never agree to it, and you need us both, don't you?"
"He will if you convince him too."
Annabeth didn't miss the bitterness in his tone. Was he angry because she loved someone other than him? Because he knew that she could sway his mind one way or the other, in a way Luke was utterly failing to do to her right now? She found herself not caring much either way. Perseus had been right about him all along. She'd been a fool to think she could fix him.
"I won't. I won't do it." she said, shaking her head, "You can kill us if you want, but I won't try and twist his head like that. Not when I know it's not right."
"So you're choosing him," Luke said, mouth drawn into a flat, angry line.
It wasn't about that, not really. But if it was? Annabeth would choose Perseus over Luke, every single damn time.
"Yes, I am," she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. If her goal had been to make him even more angry, she certainly succeeded.
"You've barely known him a week," he accused.
"I know him better than I ever knew you," Annabeth said.
"You did know me, Annabeth," Luke insisted, "And I know you, even if you'd rather I didn't."
Annabeth shook her head.
"Then you should have known that I would never join you."
"You would if you hadn't met him," Luke said bitterly.
Annabeth almost believed him. But it only took a second for her to correct herself, to realize that that wasn't true at all. She wouldn't betray her friends like that, even if it meant she had to hide for the rest of her life— even if it meant she had to die. She would never willingly join forces with someone who could dispose of their lives so easily, as if they meant nothing. Knowing Perseus had nothing to do with that.
"If you think that's true, then you never really knew me."
Luke said nothing, just kept his gaze locked on her. He swallowed heavily, opened his mouth like he was about to speak—
Then someone knocked on the door, making them both jump.
"What?" Luke snapped, his attention drawn away from Annabeth and towards the door, which had already started to open. Annabeth was facing away, but she could still hear the shuffling feet of the unlucky person who'd been tasked with interrupting them.
"It's time," the person said. Luke sighed in frustration, his shoulders sagging. He wouldn't meet Annabeth's eyes.
"Fine."
The door shut, leaving them alone again— though just barely, since Annabeth was sure whoever had come was still on the other side of that door.
"You'll have one last chance," Luke said, still not looking at her, "When you meet him, you'll have one last chance."
"I won't take it."
They both knew this. Luke clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening.
"We need to go. Lord Kronos doesn't like to be kept waiting."