FORENOTE

This wouldn't leave me be. So. Fair warning, I kill off Annabeth. I don't hate her, I just couldn't fit her in. I think this chapter is is sad, but that might just be my sleep deprived hormonal self.

ALSO, If you are of a disposition that would be negatively affected by written anguish, please use yor descretion and don't read. This probably isn't necessary, but I wouldn't want anyone compromising their emotional well-being over my crappy scrap of writing. You are worth more tha that.

Nothing you recognise is mine.

So. I'd say enjoy but...

My world ended on a bright summer's day in Athens, under the shade of a prophecy while battling alongside six of the most important people in my life.

For the first two minutes, it was going well; we weren't being completely smacked around by the small army of millennia old, thirty-foot tall Greek baddies. Then the element of surprise was turned into the compound of doomed-to-die-trying-to-win; Frank was out of arrows, Hazel got knocked off Arion at high speed and I couldn't access the water that was right there, like it was being blocked off from me somehow. My busted nose burned, I was dizzy from being slapped into a wall and Annabeth was losing ground way too fast, which was probably something to do with the cut behind her knee that had her leg worryingly slicked with red.

And the giants? No matter how well we cut them down, they were getting back up faster and faster. They were healing.

It all went down from then. Not like a gently hill-slope either, where a pebble rolls and you end up with an avalanche further down the line. No, this was like the fall to Tartarus; it was like a meteor descending, a burning hot calamity dragged closer, irresistibly, the Earth itself.

A bead of blood rolled off my chin and hit the soil with a hiss.

The blood of Olympus watered the earth.

The Acropolis groaned and the Earth Mother woke.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

The sky opened up and the gods descended and together we smote our opponents thoroughly. For a moment, I understood how battles became legends. Gods and demigods, united against a shared enemy. Jason was bonding with Zeus; Piper was doing all the heavy lifting while Aphrodite distracted their opponent with doves and rose petals to the face and provided verbal encouragement; Ares was having the time of his life with Frank-the-African-elephant; Leo basically being their personal aerial hostile armoury aboard the Argo II while Hephaestus tried to keep the ship in the sky; Hazel was on Arion, fading in and out of sight with her shroud of Mist and decimating opponents at break-neck speeds with Hecate in her wake; Annabeth was a warrior princess, all calculated strikes and graceful lethality with Athena backing her up. I was fighting with my dad, who was wearing his standard Hawaiian prints en lieu of actual armour, but he morphed his trident into a firehose with a horse-shaped blast that took out the twin giants we were facing, so really, the man earned his neon flowers.

Then...we were on Olympus, Leo was trying to hide that he had a stupid, probably self-sacrificial plan on the back burner (like knows like after all, but there's no way in Hades that I was going to let one of mine die, but it's easier to watch someone who thinks they're invisible). The gods were arguing, both with us and themselves.

I turned to Annabeth, a grin on my face.

Ice-water fell down my spine.

She was swaying and white as death. Annabeth never sways or fidgets and there was a crimson pool spreading at her delicate feet.

"Wise Girl?" I called out lowly, she lurched towards me and tipped over. I caught her and lowered us both to the golden floor before I even registered moving. Her grey eyes were unfocused in a way I hadn't seen since she was poisoned at the Battle of New York... "ANNABETH!" Her skin was unsettlingly cool and clammy, her sudden pallor made the bags under her eyes stark in contrast. I brushed the flyaway hairs worked loose of her braid out of her face. Her eyes roamed aimlessly, "Percy...?" her voice was so small.

The sound died down around us and suddenly we were surrounded by comrades and deities, "Lord Apollo!" Thank the gods for Jason, "Ok, I want a two-metre space all the way around them, give the god some room to work."

I looked at the Greek God of Healing, he had tied a temporary tourniquet above Annabeth's knee but was frowning heavily as he held a golden glowing palm over the wound. He opened his eyes and looked over to Athena, "Poison" he said. "From the giant's blade." A grim silence settled over the Olympians. He reached up and the tourniquet disappeared in a shower of glittering yellow sparks. The demigods cried out but were swiftly silenced by a flare of light from Apollo.

I looked at the Greek God of Healing, "What are you doing?! Help her!" I grabbed her leg and futilely tried to hold it closed with my bare hand. The feel of her warm, slick blood was sickening. For a single, desperate moment, I thought about trying to use that power I'd discovered in Tartarus and just call her blood back myself (grey eyes - wary-hesitant-afraidafraidafraidofme-WhatAreYou-...Percy? - Stopped me). Hands, warm and calloused from bows and string instruments and chariot reins, gently, but firmly, prised mine off and relocated to Annabeth's (growing colder, sweating, a delirious glaze over her eyes, the grimace twisting her beautiful face easing as the yellow sparks glittered around her as if in a breeze, flaring and sinking into her skin) shoulder. I pulled her closer to me. My hands were shaking.

"I can't heal a mortal of giant's poison."

My head snapped up, a snarl twisting my lips, creeping dread in my spine and impotent rage burning in my blood, "Heal her! Do something!" I curled myself tighter around her, like I could hide her away and keeps her safe (like I wouldn't, wasn't failing). "She needs ambrosia! Nectar!"

"Perseus." I looked at my father, graver than I'd ever witnessed, "It won't help. I'm sorry."

A tidal wave of fury crashed through me; I hate hollow words. They knew something, the gods, looking away, avoiding eye contact, but they were guilty, what did they know?! Why can't SOMEONE JUST- "TELL ME."

Of all the gods and goddesses of Olympus, it was Ares that took off his sunglasses, looked me in the eye with his burning red pits and bluntly, almost callously, gave me the answer, "Look, Ambrosia or nectar would only be enough to keep the girl just as she is right now. It would trap her with the pain she's in now and it would steadily get more and more agonizing as she started to burn alive from your pathetic mortal bodies going into overload from too much god-food. The best thing you can is allow your warrior to die honourably now and not tarnish her by forcing a couple of extra days in agony and infirmity, which you damn well know. That way is to inflict torture and to dishonour her. This is mercy."

My eyes burned, but I nodded at his harsh, soldier's consolidation. Few know death and honour better than the God of War. I respected that, even if I hated his guts.

I looked down at my girlfriend (my Wise Girl, my partner in all things), at her sun-kissed skin with a sickly, grey taint, at the shape of her nose, the sandy blond curls of her hair with that single lock of siler-grey, the thin curve of her lips, chapped from stressed chewing, the slant of her too hollow cheeks and the dark shadows there over her slightly sunken eyes. I wanted her to wake up, to look at me with those steely cloud-grey eyes that were tired but still showed the razor edge of her lightning-quick mind and brightened with an inner light when she looked at me, for her to grin at me with a flash of teeth.

I could see her dying.

It was too soon (she was only seventeen). So many times, we'd almost died but survived against all odds (demigods as a rule of thumb burn bright and fast, but I'd grown a tentative ember of hope deep in my heart that maybe we would make it, escape the tragedy that dogged the steps of heroes and get to live), now we're being brutally ripped apart, when between Hera's meddling and the Mark of Athena we had finally been reunited for moments after so long... only to fall into Tartarus almost immediately. We hadn't had enough time (there was the whole word to see yet).

I wanted to take her on every romantic, cliché date I could think of -make her huff at me with a grin tugging at the lips- and afterwards go out into the open air, under the stars, to revel in being together and free. I wanted to go to college in New Rome with her, where she'd nag me about homework and I'd beg her for tutoring with a smile on my face and a kiss to her lips... I wanted to kiss her forever, just like we had not even an hour earlier, to vow an end to the feud between our parents. At one of the worse times in the Pit, in the light of my blade, I held her close, looked deep into her eyes and asked her 'If we make it out of here... will you marry me?' to which she whispered, 'Yes'. I didn't even have a ring to give her. We could have gotten married. We could have grown old together.

But now we can't.

All I can do is make it hurt less for her.

I looked down at the love of my life, and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

My warrior princess.

I looked at Annabeth Chase, and kissed her one last time.

I looked at the Greek God of Healing and asked him to send her to sleep.

He told me he already was.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Piper was in shock. Annabeth was strong, smart and experienced, Piper had respected and admired her since they first met at the Grand Canyon... even if it that same fierce intelligence had, at the time, really unnerved her, over the course of their limited interaction she had gotten the feeling they would work well together, almost as if, while markedly different, they were similar enough on some base level to operate on a similar frequency. Vague sense of kinship aside...Annabeth was a warrior unstoppable in the face of her goals, but she was dying of a wound beyond even divine intervention to heal.

No, godly powers couldn't save her... but maybe a bit of medicine? "The Physician's Cure! I have it here! We can give it to her and-" her mother's expression stopped her.

"No darling, you misunderstand. As goddess, if I was poisoned, I could simply take my true form and burn it out, though it would greatly weaken me. As a mortal, even half -divine, her very soul is being eaten away with no defence against it. The Cure can't heal essence that no longer exists." Aphrodite sighed, "A tragedy really...it's so rare to find love so deep and true these days."

Percy keened, curling over Annabeth's still body, cradling her head with infinite care even as he shuddered and cried. He looked desolate, like the final strike of being denied reunion in the afterlife had shattered him.

After all, it is the souls of heroes that find rest in Elysium, at least there, they could have been reunited...

Her soul ached with loss.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

I felt it when she died.

It was like someone reached in and ripped out a chunk of my heart, soul and chest all at once. The absence was... suddenly the connection I'd always felt, the zingy, crackling sparks that danced along my nerves, was gone. The sharp-bright-hard-live feeling that was Annabeth was like a throbbing dark spot, like the after-image of a flash.

It had always felt like a dance; I was the ocean, the rolling waves and billowing clouds, vast and encompassing, whereas she was the storm in her eyes, the wind that stirred my waves into action, that gave them direction, the lightning of her inspiration that arched among the clouds whipped up from sea-spray. Together, we created a perfect hurricane, a cyclone, a typhoon. I would be the power, whatever she did I would amplify, conduct, protect. She was the precision, in the chaos of my making, she would strike the critical blow from nowhere, unexpected and absolute.

Of course, the one time I brought it up to Annabeth, she laughed, called me a Seaweed Brain and challenged me to a spar, because in the time it must have taken me to think up something like that, something might have atrophied.

She never would again.

She was deadeadeadead

There was a void with clean, cauterized edges. I still love her so, so much, but it was like something was suddenly... gone.

The others were grieving around me, crying quietly and crowding close to each other for comfort. I... was numb. The world was grey and dull, even the magnificence of Olympus -Annabeth's designs, her architecture, her pride and joy- was flat and uninspiring.

Poseidon moved forward and gently gripped my shoulder, "Son, she will receive a hero's burial, but there is a war to be won."

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Zeus slapped our ship across the ocean and right into the heart of battle at Camp Half-Blood.

Between the G-force, the ringing in my ears and the echoing aches in my chest, I couldn't get my thoughts straight; everything was jumbled and blurred, like I'd gotten high or something. I don't know. The highest I'd gotten was in Apollo's chariot. That was fun. Too bad Thalia's afraid of heights. It was shiny. And gold. Like Leo! Warm and shiny-goldy. Always moving. Leo's always doing something. When Leo comes in you always wake up a little bit more, makes every day a bit anticipating, worth facing? Um...

Someone was speaking, it might be Leo. I couldn't listen. Sound echoed oddly. Every detail was blurred and hyper-focused, shifting, like lapping waves... I was aching and so, so exhausted (but the fight wasn't over), but I couldn't indulge in the bone-deep tiredness and numbing apathy (it would be so, so easy to just-), my fellow demigods, both Greek and Roman, needed everyone fighting like it was the end of the world, because if we failed, it was.

(To protect those of mine that remained...anything.)

Reyna was leading the Romans with Frank, calling out formations and co-ordinating the forces with terrifying efficiency. The rest of the seven were working alone or paired already. With effort, I tipped myself forward until suddenly, I was sprinting over to the Camp Half-Bloods, slashing and stabbing on the way, body numb and blood rushing in my ears. A cheer went up among the demigods, the sight of them soothed an ache I didn't know I had and for a second, my head breached the waters of apathy and I breathed. I looked around, gaging numbers, making and discarding strategies, noting where the surviving Neo-Argonauts were and how to work my forces to protect-aid-enable their health and victory.

I fought my way over to Clarisse, pulling the water from the grasping muddy ground as I went and keeping it close, swirling around my torso. She decapitated a dracnae and followed the motion to face me. She smirked, "Took yah long enough to turn up, Prissy!" She glanced over my shoulder, "where's the Wise Girl? I wouldn't think she'd let yah out of arms reach so soon after finding yah."

I clenched my jaw. "Annabeth's dead." The void throbbed. The madness burned spiralled higher (hot and cold, storm and fire). Clarisse looked shell-shocked. I met her eyes and watched incomprehension-horror-denial-Grief-Bloodlust-RAGE harden her eyes and a haze of red descend around her. I grinned. "GREEKS!" my voice carried; I felt my warriors' attention shift to me, "They seek our death! They have killed our comrades; they have killed Annabeth Chase!" there was a moment of complete stillness, I watched their eyes.

I grinned.

"ALALAlalalalalalalaaa!"

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

A trilling howl resonated from the Greeks, a long, wavering, high-pitched sound piercing the air; a soul-deep exclamation of fury, of grief, of the savage joy of vengeful combat.

The hairs on the back of Reyna's neck rose. The Greeks fought like demons. Each warrior was a manic whirl of celestial bronze and raw viciousness. This is why the Greeks were feared by their enemies from many leagues away. Why the Spartans were considered undefeatable on land.

It was chaotic. It was barbaric. It was turning the Tide of Victory unstoppably in their favour.

Well. Can't let the crazy greaci have all the fun.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

Frank met Reyna's eyes over the bristling spear of the Legion. As one, lips pulled back, teeth bared and hearts beat to the tone of war-drums. He channelled the power and ferocity of the unrelenting heat-storm billowing withing his mind, saw Reyna's eyes glow with unearthly light and led the Legion to War.

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

'Seven half-bloods-'

'A half-blood of the eldest gods-'

'-shall answer the call, to storm or fire the world must fall-'

'-and fail without friends, to fly home alone-'

'-an oath to keep with final breath-'

'-and you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.'

'-and foes bear arms and the doors of death.'

~~~∞Ω∞~~~

In the end, Gaia fell to fire.

After all, the Earth knows how to weather storms, how to turn pounding rain and lashing waves to nurturing moisture, but it's fire that causes devastation. So, I pulled all of the water (my father's water, MY water, my heritage, my home, MINE) out of the deceptively serene goddess and with all that I had in my fracturing, exhausted, frenzied state, I reached into that place of shattered glass from Tartarus, filled my lungs, my veins, my soul with flames and burned.

A/N

So.

Suggestion & Ideas welcome!