A/N: Enjoy and leave a review! Partially based on the Korea manhwa, "Bride of the Water God"

Annabeth

What was death like?

That was the question asked by so many philosophers.

Annabeth had always hoped her own inevitable death would be painless, perhaps passing in her sleep in old age. Maybe her chosen partner would be by her side, if he hadn't passed first.

So why did death hurt so much?

She was cold, so cold. Icy water was rushing into her lungs, beating into her ears. Her silk chiton was plastered to her skin, weighing her down. Drowning hurt so much. She couldn't breathe without water filling her, demanding she hand over her life. The moonlight above her dimmed as the salt water stung her eyes whenever she tried to keep them open. Bubbles further obscured her vision and waves pummeled at her, threatening to pull her down into the cold dark depths.

Give up. Give up. It'll hurt much less. Voices chanted into her head. If she just let herself succumb, would all the pain go away? Was this how all the other sacrifices passed away?

But something within her couldn't give up on her so easily. She had to live.

With a kick, Annabeth propelled herself upwards and broke through the crashing waves. She nearly bumped her head into her small wooden boat, now bobbing upside down in the tumultuous waves.

There! Far away in the distance. Was that land she saw?

A small line of brown and yellow and green. Something that looked like building structures dotted the line of land.

With a new surge of strength, Annabeth swum forward. But the ocean was furious that its prey was lost. Seaweed seemed to tangle at her legs. Wave after wave tore through, trying to pull her down to a watery grave. Her clothes were only hindering her.

With no small effort, she unpinned her chiton and let the material tumble away in the waters. With the weight unloaded, she continued swimming.

She was getting close now. Then a large wave, taller than any of the waves she had been dealing with, came bearing down at her like a wall of bricks. She lost her bearing, her body sucked into the ocean.

The last thing she saw was the darkness that awaited her.

Fourteen years ago

Annabeth was eight when she saw her first Bride.

The Bride wore a silk chiton, her brunette hair pinned in a crown of braids. Purple ribbons strung throughout her hair, and a delicate gold hairpin contrasted the dark of her hair. Her lips were reddened like the color of berries, the same color dusting her cheeks. Annabeth thought the Bride looked beautiful like a goddess. But the Bride's expression was nothing short of horror.

This was the first time the Bride was dressed so extravagantly. And it would be her last.

Though the Bride was supposedly the most beautiful young woman from the village, Annabeth would soon find out that the Brides were always from the poorest families. Whenever the village fell on hard times such as plagues, droughts or poor grain yields, the village would always perform sacrifices to the gods. They would offer the best of their meager food supply, or slaughter their weakened animals as offerings. When that didn't work, they would sacrifice a Bride to the gods.

If the chosen Bride did not comply, her whole family would be slaughtered before her very eyes. This time, the chosen Bride was meek and obedient. She stepped onto the leaky boat the villagers had commissioned. With her was a few days supply of old stale bread and a jug of water. Perhaps her best hope was sailing onto another land or island before her supplies ran out. Otherwise, she could die out there in the lonely seas, plundered by storms or devoured by hungry sea creatures. Or perhaps, the villages prayed, the gods would find her a satisfactory Bride. The Bride would be among the deities, living a life of luxury and passing on good fortune to her village.

The present Bride suddenly broke down. She knelt on the boat, possibly from her legs giving out.

The head of the village council slapped at her, pushing her down. Her pretty face would be marred by her tears, and she would be rejected by the gods as a result.

Then men surged forward, pushing the boat out to sea. There, the tides took over, pulling the hapless Bride out.

Annabeth's father squeezed her little hand comfortingly. Her father was a scholar, taking care of the village's small library. A small and inconsequential role in the village. As such, her name had been up for draw in the choosing of the Bride, only her family did not have debts and she was too small to be a Bride, having not reached womanhood.

As far as she was concerned, the world of the gods and the Bride was far away from her.

How wrong she would be.