This fic is updated more often on Ao3, under fae_lights! I am cross-posting it here, but Ao3 is the main platform this story will be published on.

It was a blustery January day in New York when she decided to listen to her gut and open the door to Tishby's Antiques and Oddities.

Annabeth Chase was not exactly an antique-shop girl. She didn't care all that much for thrifting and she preferred to keep dust out of her nose whenever possible-except perhaps, when she was in a library. One would think that a young woman so interested in the architecture of the antiquities would also have a calling toward the vintage, but the blonde had never felt particularly drawn to old and borrowed and passed-down objects. That was her dad's thing, wanting to hold on to the old. Certainly, Annabeth enjoyed learning about history and the worlds that came before this one-the patterns and artifacts intrigued and stunned her. She distinctly remembered being in an archaeology class her freshman year for a gen-ed credit that needed to be filled. Her professor had brought out a human jaw that dated back hundreds of years, and Annabeth had felt as if she was staring at something so much bigger and so much more important than her. The memory of it still excited her, still made her feel so small when her whole existence made her out to be a savior. It was grounding.

But owning a piece of history, even if it was an item as simple as clothing, was not something Annabeth had ever really felt a need to do. Maybe if it came about naturally, sure, but she certainly never felt a desire to collect or own.

That evening, however, as she'd been walking home from work at the architecture firm she was interning at, something had called to her. Something had told her to stop, and look into the window. Take a moment, is what she heard. Just one.

And so she did. Annabeth wrapped a gloved-hand around the doorknob, a light bell jingling over her head as the door swung open.

The shop was dusty, as many antique shops were, and full of memories made tangible, of lives preserved in trinkets.

Immediately, that little voice in the back of her head chimed in again, urging her further into the store. Annabeth wondered if the Fates were playing with her, or if she was finally losing it from all the shit she'd been through. Maybe saving the world hadn't been enough, and she was about to face karmic justice for not doing exactly what the gods wanted. She followed the voice, though, to a large glass-sealed display of jewelry, and her eyes fell on one particular piece.

It was old-very, very old, by the way the strands of pearls were yellowed. At its center hung a cameo pendant, depicting a woman, carved into a brown background. Annabeth assumed it was a shell of some kind, but she didn't know what. She stood there for several moments, entranced, eyes glued to the piece, something rising in her chest. Some feeling of yearning, of longing. Something deep and unknown to her.

Annabeth heard steps headed her way, and couldn't tear her gaze from the necklace until she felt the wave of divine power roll over her.

Gray eyes snapped up immediately, meeting a pair of sea-green and a surprised face. "What do you want?" She asked brusquely. "I already told them I was done, no more. They can do their own dirty work for once."

The god was so handsome he nearly made her breath catch in her throat-tall and muscular, with tanned olive skin and a bone structure no model on the earth possessed, and messy, raven black hair. He looked to be about her age, but that could have just been the appearance he chose. He searched her face for several seconds, those deep, swirling eyes roaming her expression. Something unreadable was set in his face, though Annabeth didn't care. She didn't involve herself with the gods unless she absolutely had to, and this was not a necessary exchange as far as she could tell.

When he didn't stop staring, she barked out, "What?" Teeth bared, brows furrowed. It seemed to shake him from his daze, and she could tell the smile he threw on wasn't exactly genuine. She could see it in those eyes, the ones she couldn't pull away from.

The god seemed to center himself, clearing his throat before he spoke. "You reminded me of someone. Forgive me." His voice was surprisingly sincere, what with the fake grin twisting his lips.

That was...unexpected. It wasn't often a god apologized, forced or not. Annabeth did not care. "You still haven't answered my question," she said, tone taut. Causing a scene was the exact opposite of what she wanted, and she had no clue who this guy was. It was better not to attract attention. "What do you want?"

The smile became a smirk, and with a lifted brow those eyes flicked toward the cameo necklace. "That. The necklace you had your eye on."

The daughter of Athena felt a sudden possessiveness fall over her, and her brows furrowed even more. That necklace was not his-she could feel it in her bones, as if it were meant to be hers. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "I was here first."

His smirk stretched, and the expression in his eyes became something else. "Were you, though?" He asked, mischief layered in his words. "I've been looking for this necklace for years, and you would deny me, a god, of the thing I desire?"
"You should've been faster then, if you wanted it," she replied stubbornly. "Not my fault you got here too late. It's mine, I'm taking it."

"Can you, hero?"

That stopped Annabeth in her mental tracks. It sounded like a threat. For all intents and purposes, in any other situation, it probably would be a threat. But there was something in this god's voice, in his eyes, that told her something else was at play here.

She blinked, narrowing her eyes at him. "Are you threatening me?" She asked bluntly, and her hand itched for the knife at her hip. Annabeth could feel her blood start to rush, instincts ready to kick in at any second, but the god standing in front of her did the weirdest thing in response: he laughed .

He laughed boisterously , head thrown back and a tear leaking from his eye. The exchange was odd, and made Annabeth even more wary than she already was. After a good long minute, the god's laughing slowed and quieted, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Oh, Annabeth Chase," the dark-haired god drawled, a smile left on his lips. "I don't think I could hurt you if I tried."

Him knowing her name was not unusual. After all, she was one of the Heroes of Olympus, and its Architect. Not to mention, a Titan-killer. Her name often found its way thrown around in conversation in the mouths of gods and monsters and demigods, so it was no surprise. However, she was really getting tired of whatever game he was playing, and she still hadn't figured out what he was doing here other than trying to buy a necklace, which seemed very much like an excuse.

Annabeth waved a hand in the air, an indignant expression on her face. She probably could be a bit friendlier, which she acknowledged, but she truly wasn't in the mood for whatever mind games this deity had in store for her. She'd had long day at work, and she just wanted to get home-right after she bought that necklace, of course. "Okay, enough. Who are you and what do you really want? If you're looking for someone to do you a favor or fulfill some quest, look elsewhere. I'm busy."

"Wow, some people just really don't read up on their Greek myths, do they," he complained under his breath. His next words were spoken confidently. "I'm Perseus, God of Calamity."

At Annabeth's blank look, Perseus sighed, and ran a hand through his dark locks. "God of catastrophe and natural disaster? The Grave-Maker? Surely you've heard of the Grave-Maker. I'm kind of infamous, as the name would suggest."

Wordlessly, the blonde shook her head. "I have heard of you-the Grave-Maker, that is. Didn't know your name. Sorry."

His whole demeanor had changed; he'd started to speak much younger than his probably thousand-years, but she guessed he liked to keep up with the times. He looked young, and spoke young, and wore young fashion (what with the sweatshirt jean-jacket and Converse combo), so he was probably trying to blend in with the crowd.

Perseus gave her a deadpan look, annoyance in his eyes. "Are you serious? You're supposed to be designing my new temple on Olympus, and you don't even know anything about me? C'mon." His lip was curled in an expression that could only be described as "teenager", and it bewildered her even more that this guy was a god-of calamity, no less. He was so...different than she would expect an incredibly powerful deity to be. The whole situation just boggled Annabeth's fried brain.

Annabeth put her hands up defensively, brows furrowing. "Hey, look, I'm a busy woman. I'll get around to yours eventually, and then I'll look into your history and symbols, we'll talk, and I'll design. I'm going alphabetically, so it's gonna take some time."

Perseus scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "You know what, forget it, it's fine. Can't say it doesn't happen," he replied with a sigh. "But to answer your question, I really am here for that necklace. It belongs to me."

"Then why'd you sell it?" Her nose scrunched up.

"I didn't, I gave it to someone."

"Hm, sounds to me like you gave up ownership, then. I'm taking it."

"She's dead, so it reverts back to me. It is mine, " he insisted.

The blonde shook her head and sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Eh, I don't think so, considering it's sitting in an antique shop. I think I'm gonna get it." Her finger tapped the old bell on the counter twice, and Annabeth heard rustling from a backroom somewhere.

Perseus made a sound to signal his objection, but before he could say anything, a hunched little old man with circular wire glasses was staggering over. Annabeth assumed he was Tishby, and greeted him with a smile before she pointed to the necklace in the case. "I'd like to try that on," she said quickly, her own smirk splitting her face. The shopkeeper nodded, and pulled out a keyring with shaking hands.

The god groaned next to her, but went to stand against the wall. "Martin, I can pay double what you ask of her," Perseus called out to the old man, but Martin waved him off.

"Let her try it on, Percy," he coughed out, finally finding the right key on his ring for the jewelry case. Percy. Huh. She hadn't expected a god to be on a nickname/first name basis with an antique shop owner. Annabeth silently wondered what that was about, but then realized that she didn't really care.

Martin lifted the top of the case and slid out the drawer, taking the necklace and placing it gently into Annabeth's waiting hands.

With the old pearls in her hands, and the even older cameo, Annabeth felt once again like she was staring at the jawbone in that archaeology class: small and yet somehow infinite.

She studied it for a moment, eyes taking in the odd, filigree clasp and the gold setting of the cameo. The beautiful woman carved into it, who looked oddly familiar. She wondered if it had been modeled after one of the goddesses, since Percy had made it, or just a woman. Annabeth gently twisted open the pin and barrel clasp, and drew the necklace up to her neck, fingers twisting it back in deftly. She looked into the mirror Martin had pulled up from beneath the case, and felt some sort of peace when she saw the cameo against her throat. It was beautiful, and it was hers. Annabeth hadn't been entirely certain before this point if she was going to actually buy the necklace, but wearing it, she knew she had to have it.

"I'll take it. How much?" The blonde told Martin, a smile on her face as the man turned to get his card reader. She turned to Percy, a slim brow raised in triumph. "Told you I would get it."

She thought that the god would have a stronger reaction to her taunting him with the item he'd been searching for, but he just stared at the necklace for a moment, a soft look on his face, before lifting his sea-green gaze to her gray.

"I've waited almost 200 years to get that necklace," he said with a shrug. "It'll end up back in one of these stores again. I can wait some more." Percy had a strange, sad smile on his face, eyes focused on the necklace she was still wearing.

Martin spoke up. "Alright, miss, that'll be one-hundred-and-twenty dollars. I take Visa, Mastercard, and American Express, but not Discover."

Damn, expensive, she thought to herself. But she'd made a show of wanting it, and she wasn't going to back down now. Annabeth quickly dug her credit card out of her wallet, handing it over to Martin as she untwisted the clasp.

"You know, Percy," she began, turning to face the god, but he wasn't where he had last been standing. She glanced around the shop, confused at his sudden disappearance. Annabeth hadn't heard him leave, so she assumed that he did whatever gods do and teleported out of there or something. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Martin asked for the necklace, so he could wrap it up. She was loath to hand it over, but she did, satisfied once the package was back in her hand.

Annabeth shoved it into the inside pocket of her long brown coat for safekeeping, bid Martin a thanks and goodbye, and made her way out of the shop.

It had been a very...interesting evening. An encounter with a god of catastrophe and buying an old-ass necklace was not something she'd expected for that night and certainly not together. Annabeth had enough time to catch the next train, grab some takeout, and maybe take a relaxing bath before she had to get in bed, so at least it would be a normal end to a not-normal night.

When she finally arrived at her apartment, take out in hand, Annabeth set the necklace on her countertop, gazing at it as she ate. Part of her had a feeling the Fates were toying with her life threads again, and she couldn't help but wonder what the necklace meant to Percy. He made it as though it was something very important to him, but really, what was a simple necklace to a god?

She pushed the thought aside and tucked the necklace back in its box, placing it on her dresser before she tucked herself into bed.

Her dreams were of pearls, sea green eyes, and the ground breaking apart at her feet.

Blocks away in a dimly lit alley, a god tries to piece himself back together.

Percy felt as though a wound had ripped itself open in his chest, as though he were bleeding out on the dirty concrete. His face was crumpled up, tears drying on his cheeks.

He'd found her. He had gotten his wish. I deserve this , he thought bitterly. He hadn't been able to make it very far from the antique shop before he collapsed, the pain of it all sending him to his knees.

That necklace. Those eyes. The ones that had followed-no, haunted him for over two thousand years. They were the same color, just like her first two lives. Storm clouds made hard as steel.

Percy wasn't sure how much longer he could endure this. He wasn't sure he could endure her saying no again.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to kill the Fates, he wanted to destroy something like he was meant to do. Percy just wanted the pain to end, to stop the god wasn't certain how long he'd been sitting in the alleyway. At some point, he nearly fell asleep. And then she showed up.

Not even opening his eyes, Percy just groaned and rested his forearms on his knees. "What do you want?" He spat out, venom in his voice.

The sound of heels clicked closer to him, and he opened one eye to stare up at her. She looked different from the last time he'd seen her-tonight, she had dark brown skin and long braids and was wearing a pantsuit, eyes ever-changing, beautiful as she always was.

"You have to stop torturing yourself like this, Perseus," Aphrodite said softly, a small frown marring her features, expression concerned. Of course it was her who came. She always did, but he had never had the heart to tell her she just made it worse. She at least seemed to genuinely care.

His hands smoothed over his face. Percy didn't want to hear this. He wanted to be left alone. "Stop."

"You are causing your own suffering. Let her go," she insisted, voice gaining sternness.

Percy just laughed, the sound miserable. He felt like he was choking on it, the same way he'd choked when he saw Annabeth's eyes, felt that flash of recognition. Felt the thread connecting them. "You of all people know I can't do that. You know why."

Aphrodite's face contorted with annoyance. "I tried my best to make sure your paths wouldn't cross. I'm sure the Fates had their own plans, but I did everything you asked. And yet you still sought her out. Look at the state you're in, Perseus. Look at what you've done to yourself!"

She probably had a point. He was sure he looked awful, but he doubted she was talking about his appearance. The Olympians were beginning to question his ability to perform, as Zeus had called it. The thought made him snicker.

The goddess continued on with her lecture. "We need you sane, Perseus, and frankly, I don't know if you're going to last to this one's death. Quit punishing yourself."

Percy looked up into Aphrodite's changing eyes, face blank. "I deserve this."

That seemed to set her off, and Aphrodite's feature shifted to anger, eyes blazing with rage. "I have tried to help you as best as I could, Perseus. No more. If you want to believe you deserve to suffer for eternity, so be it. I won't burden myself with trying to help someone who refuses aid at every turn." She leaned down in front of him then, face close to his. "You'll have to avoid her yourself from now on. Good luck," Aphrodite said bitterly.

In a puff of smoke that smelled like roses, she was gone, and Percy rested his head against the brick once again, and drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt of gray eyes, a cameo, and a fall.