THIS REMAINS THE RATING IT IS. Nothing happens in this story that doesn't go beyond teen. Some of you were worried there, and I'm sorry for that. All I meant to showcase was that Octavian has no morals. I don't need to push his character any farther to prove it.
Also, please don't kill me with rotten tomatoes. I know I stepped out for a hot second but that was mostly due to writing insecurities.
Chapter 22
Annabeth's mother had never really brought her anywhere before. She was so busy that vacations and holidays were spent at home, normally alone or in the green strip with Luke.
Before he had gone missing, of course.
Leaving their pearl of a town nestled in the crook of a valley had always been considered a treat. Their town wasn't miniscule by any means, but it wasn't big either. It was peppered with buildings that would occasionally rise higher than twenty stories but no farther. Compared to the city they were driving through to get to the venue however, Annabeth's hometown might've been a collection of toadstools. Here, the skyscrapers reached so high they pierced right through the clouds and their tips were swallowed by the blanket of swirling grey. The glossy sheen of fresh rain against the thousands of panes of glass windows glinted with the cities warm lights, and odd dashes of neon colour with such vibrancy that it almost made her eyes ache. Annabeth could understand all the romantic songs about cities in the rain now, but she didn't dwell on it long. The majestic reach of the buildings sturdy steel and glass structures alone were enough to let her mind drift, and that's all she wanted.
For a bittersweet moment she was reminded of a distant dream, the career of an architect, but now even the thought of possessing her own dream seemed so foreign. Every aspiration she had, every hope was down the drain already.
All she could do was stare at the window and let her mind drift to try and choke out the fear. The tension that clawed at her throat was undeniable, but she'd been able to convince herself that she wasn't afraid. To her, admittance of fear was the last step to a complete and total surrender and that was not a step she was willing to take. At least, not yet. As far as she knew, she would always claim that she was never afraid of the man who was sitting directly beside her. His body was so close that his warmth bled through the fabric of her white dress. They had an entire limo to themselves yet Octavian chose to corner her in one edge. He smiled smugly when he took his seat after the rice had been thrown and the crowds disappeared from sight. It made her shiver, but she told herself that she wasn't afraid.
She was determined to stay resilient.
"Excited for the honeymoon?" Octavian simpered. "I know I am."
Annabeth didn't answer. She kept her eyes on the street as it passed by and tried to keep her mind as far away from the situation as possible.
"Do you want to know where we're going?" Octavian continued. He was obviously interpreting her silence as a sign of submission.
Maybe it was defeat.
"I've bought out a little island in the tropical regions. Totally isolated, and totally alone."
Annabeth's gut clenched and her wings sat rigid on her back in fear. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Chasing out all the bad thoughts, that had suddenly popped into her head, before looking at Octavian in a very sullen manner.
"Sounds delightful," she said emptily. A smidget of dark dislike staining her voice with her true feelings.
His smile wavered and instantly her stomach rolled as the sense of dread washed over her.
Octavian grabbed her by the throat. His icy hands enclosed on her skin so tightly that her breath came to a sudden stop, and she was then flailing and choking for air in pathetic snorts and hiccups. Her wings flapped around her body like a pigeon trapped in netting.
"Don't use that tone with me," he purred as he brought her face close to his. Close enough that she could feel his own taunting breath against her lips.
Her face was flushing purple with rage, and her lungs were burning before Octavian released her.
Annabeth choked and gasped, coughing into her shoulder as she tried to retreat further into her corner. Tears stung the edges of her eyes as her heart throbbed for her safe spot, a place to get away from this. The person that came with that safe spot made waves of grief bubble in her chest.
Don't cry. She tried to soothe herself as she wiped her eyes carefully. If her makeup was screwed up, then she was sure any number of people would mock her for it. Don't cry, don't cry.
"Pulling up now sir." The chauffeur's voice rung over the speakers. Annabeth could scarcely hear him. It sounded as if he were at the end of a long corridor.
"Perfect."
Octavian's hand found its way to her waist again.
She went back to staring. Hoping her mind would take her far away from this. Hoping that perhaps she would just go insane, and that she could wander in realities that didn't exist.
Or maybe an earthquake would hit and flatten the whole city, and she'd be pinned under tons of sandstone boulders from the venue, feeling deliciously free and weightless as she died.
"Smile," Octavian said. "We're about to have the greatest nights of our lives."
She didn't have a choice.
She smiled.
As soon as the door was flung open she was overwhelmed with piercing white flashes and the plastic shutter of cameras. Hundreds of voices yelled at her from every direction, leaving her confused and lost. All she could sense was the glittering black marble floor beneath her and the wall of voices and flashes as she desperately clung to her smile. She forced her limp wings up into a perky pose to hide her weeping toil of emotions.
"Mrs. Aresto!"
"Annabeth Aresto!"
"Tell us about you're theories!"
"What made you investigate the disappearance of Percy Jackson Mrs. Aresto?"
"Annabeth! What more do you have to say about the numerous disappearances?"
"Why have you been silent the last few weeks on these matters?"
"Mrs Aresto! Mrs Aresto!"
That last name made her want to vomit. She felt her stomach churn with every commanding voice yelling out her new surname. Her name. It all felt so wrong.
"Now now." Octavian was utterly beaming as he waved down the flock of people. "No comments tonight."
And then she was inside. Shaking, breathing, still smiling and staring at nothing. Her gaggle of makeup ladies came chattering in and started freshening up her makeup and respraying her hair. Cooing and giggling at what a pretty doll she was, and how they would totally die for her wings, her face, her figure.
A poor diet, and a corset made you feel as if you were close to dying anyways.
At some point her bridesmaids came tumbling in half drunk and giggling in high squeals as they bounced over to her and started congratulating her over and over with toasts, toasts, and more toasts. She didn't even know where they got the booze, but wherever they got it, there must've been tons.
I'm seventeen. She didn't feel it. This isn't right.
Octavian's arm found her waist, and she bit back the tears and clasped a hand over her heart to still its furious beating. She could still feel her compass hidden in between the fabric of her dress. Its metal was warm against her skin and gave her just enough strength to carry on.
"Party time." Octavian grinned. His pale blue eyes sparkling as he led her to the large double doors.
I can't do this.
They split open into the magnificent ballroom, the sparkling lights, the dazzling crystal chandeliers. Waves of smiling faces, cheering voices and clapping hands assaulted her as a spotlight made her vision go white.
She was smiling and waving back but she didn't know to who, he was holding her too close too close.
I'm going to throw up.
There was suddenly a burst of music, and a loud boomingly proud voice crying over the speakers;
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Mr. and Mrs. ARESTO!"
Annabeth's lip quivered. She could feel her stomach start to tug but she held it back. Her swimming eyes scanned the hoards of people uselessly as she looked for Piper. Even if she got one final glance at Piper she felt as if that would be enough.
But Octavian would never let her stop.
She was his show thing now. His play thing. His.
The crowds of people were seated, and more drinks came tumbling out of the kitchens in sparkling glasses held high on silver platters by swanky waiters who all looked the same. The labyrinth of white clothed tables ornately decorated with eccentric feathers lay before them, and Octavian was determined to get to them all.
She was his walking trophy room. Everyone had to see her and adore him for capturing her. It was that simple in his little cat and mouse head.
She was already breathless from walking so much, this corset scarcely gave her enough air to stay on her feet. She doubted she could stand the rest of the tables, but she had to. Her wings shuddered again.
I will always 'have to'. She realized emptily as she stared at the circle of people beaming at Octavian. She didn't know these people. She had no reason to be smiling at them.
Other then, 'I have to'.
"Miss Chase."
It wasn't the fact that the voice came from behind her, or that it rung with an achy familiarity, but that he had addressed her in the way she wished. Not Mrs. Aresto.
"Mr. Chiron!" Annabeth twirled around with a flood of relief blossoming in her chest. Seeing his weathered face, and wizened kind eyes again made her throat feel tight. He was the figurehead of her high school life, the face buried in her mind where her memories were sweet and full. Seeing him sparked an urge to be as young and burdenless as before, or at least, how young she felt when she was in his class.
"Where is he?" Mr. Chiron had aged with the stress on his face. The way he tightly gripped the arms of his wheelchair made her blink.
She had never seen him so tense. He had such a casual way of dealing with things. He was the most relaxed human on the planet. Or at least, she thought he was.
"Who?"
"The boy," he whispered urgently. "Perseus Jackson!"
The party melted around Annabeth. Nobody was paying attention to them anyways, but now she was no longer paying attention to any of it. It blended into a world around them of lights and sounds of no significance.
Her wings gave a violent spasm in sync with her throbbing heart. Her face went cold as the blood drained to her burning chest. She blinked at him mindlessly before she grasped at a scrap of a word.
"Who?" She breathed again with shock radiating in her throat.
"You know who." Mr. Chiron wheel in closer, the intensity of his eyes drawing her in. "Did they get him?"
Annabeth held her breath for a second. It was a painful memory, it was a confusing moment, she needed time to process.
"Yes," she murmured. "But how-"
"Nevermind that." Mr. Chiron glanced around cautiously. "What's important is that you need to get him back. You're so close to tipping the scales Annabeth. Closer then I had ever dreamed before-"
"Get him back?"
"Yes."
When Mr. Chiron grabbed her arm, Annabeth suddenly realized how much she was shaking.
"Now listen carefully child. He's probably being held out in the country, there's a place that's underground and completely remote. The only way to find it is if you're being taken there as prisoner or if you work there. Octavian Aresto has connections to this place. His grandfather was Prime Minister and oversaw its workings. You can probably find out where this prison is amongst Octavian's things. Once you know where it is, contact me and we'll go from there."
Hot hope wove tingles between her ribs as she stared down at Mr. Chiron, gobsmacked.
"How did you-"
"I've never been in a car accident." Mr. Chiron said. "I didn't lose my wings that way. Now stay chipper. Your skin tag of a husband is coming this way."
Mr. Chiron shot her a winning smile as fake as a poster and started wheeling away with a flick of his finger and an electric whir. She watched him leave while silently rubbing the goosebumps on her skin.
"Who was that?" Octavian asked darkly. His possessive hand snaked around her hip again. Her wings shuddered nervously. Could she lie to him? Could she get away with it?
"My old teacher. He wanted to congratulate me on my prosperous union."
"Don't sound so tart." Octavian smiled in a sickly way then clenched her hip. She supposed it was supposed to hurt her, but she couldn't feel the sharpness of his fingers.
Thanks to this corset I'm half numb anyways.
"I shall woe my tartness while I relieve myself in the powder room." Annabeth challenged sarcastically. Feeling her old fire starting to come back to life.
I can save Percy.
"Don't talk to me-"
"Careful dear, you wouldn't want to betray your true nature." Annabeth gestured subtly to the dining guests filling the ballroom with sounds of clinks and boisterous conversation.
"I'll be at our table," Octavian retorted sharply with his wings quivering. She watched him storm off and a sparkle of pride bounced around her chest.
I can control him with the people.
She lifted the bulk of her skirt elegantly and waded through the rest of the people offering her congratulations with a stiff smile but a warm heart. Her pulse beat a rhythm against the metal of her compass.
I can do it.
"Annabeth! Annabeth dear, come meet-"
She walked right past her demanding mother. Didn't even glance her way. She heard the aghast gasp and simply smiled at her mother's abhorrence as she trekked on to the bathroom.
She was the bride after all. This was supposed to be her day. She was going to make of it what she could.
I can save Percy.
She was almost to the bathroom when a head of bright blonde hair caught her attention in the hall just outside the ballroom. His quick stepped pace and concerned look twisted her heart with panic for a moment.
"Jason, what's wrong?! Where's Piper?"
"Annabeth!-"
"Where's Piper?!"
"She's at our table."
Annabeth deflated internally. The thoughts that plagued her head in every nightmare receded before she smoothed down her skirt and gave Jason a questioning look.
"What's wrong then?"
"Piper told me you were forced into his marriage." Jason said while searching her face. "Can't you do anything about it?"
"Nothing can be done." Annabeth waved off while glancing behind her shoulder. She could see the bridal table from where she stood, between the doors to the ballroom. She had felt her creep husband watching her. His eyes were like two pinpricks on the back of her neck.
He was going to be pissed that she was talking to Jason.
"But what about-"
"Jason that's not important now." Annabeth muttered hurriedly. When she glanced back, Octavian was on his feet, moving towards her. "I want you to get a message to Piper, do you hear?"
"A message?"
"Tell her to talk to Mr. Chiron about Percy. Tell her that exactly Jason. And tell her to keep her eyes open. Octavian threatened to do things to her if I dropped out of the marriage."
"He WHAT?!"
Octavian was getting closer. He saw Jason's expression, the jump of his wings as he expressed anger and shock. Annabeth knew he saw her grab Jason's shoulder to keep him steady, and she could already feel the murder in his gaze but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Please Jason, don't make a fuss. Keep her safe," Annabeth said. "Ignore Octavian."
"But-"
She broke away and steadied her breathing. She had that hunted feeling again, clawing at her chest and filling her head unorchestrated chaos. Octavian footsteps were beating rhythms into the ground when the empty bathroom door swung closed and she was alone.
For a heavy second she stared at her perfect reflection in the grand wall of mirrors behind the chaise lounges, listening. Listening to the sudden halt of footsteps, the pregnant pause and burdened silence backed by the wedding party. She could imagine them setting their eyes on each other, the distrust and hate flowing through their body language, the promise of a fight starting to stir in the air.
A set of footsteps trodded away, and Annabeth sighed in relief. Her stiff wings loosened.
They aren't going to fight.
If they fought, Piper would have surely implanted herself in the fray to try and defend Jason. Octavian would only be too happy to take advantage of that situation.
Maybe I should not of riled him up.
The door to the bathroom opened smoothly and silently, but Annabeth could see Octavian come in from the mirror. Darkness swirled in his eyes when he set her in a very determined glare.
"What did you tell him," he said.
Annabeth pretended to be fixing her hair in the mirror. She prodded at it arrogantly, emulating the way Clarice Aresto did, but inside she felt far from arrogant, and a bit farther from being brave.
"Nothing. We were simply exchanging pleasantries."
"Don't give me that shit."
"Octavian, I was given the impression that you understood basic things. Barging into a ladies room is challenging that knowledge. Do you not know the universal womans sign?"
Translation: Get out.
She could see the blow coming and shrunk away, but it did little. It sent her vaulting forward, and her forehead connected with the mirror in a hot flow of pain. A distant crack filled her skull but she couldn't figure out if it was the mirror or her head.
For a precious moment she was on the floor staring up at Octavian's reddening face through the mirror. A shuddering gasp broke from her lips moments before he wrenched her to her feet and slammed her body against the mirror again.
This time her reflection cracked in front of her eyes.
"You have to learn your place," he said. Tendrils of menace waved off his body as he spoke. His wild eyes were desperate for control. Every brush of anger he felt, she would feel as well. She was sure of it.
"I-"
He threw her across the bathroom before she could bring up her own defence. When her shoulders connected with the tiled walls she cried out in pain, but he silenced her with a squeezing hand over her mouth. Defeatedly, she let herself sink into the floor.
"Want the whole party to know, do you?" he hissed.
Hot tears were streaming down her face, and staining her dress. Throbs of pain echoed throughout her head and neck, but none of that compared to the shame and anger she was feeling worming around her heart in a slow torture. She glared up at him.
Yes. She wanted to say.
"What's that?" Octavian said suddenly with a cock of his head. Sharply, he stared pointedly at her chest.
Her compass had shaken loose, and was sitting just shy of falling to the floor. Its golden shine had caught Octavian's greedy eyes, and she knew she couldn't downplay what it was. Fearfully, she snatched it off her chest and held it behind her back. The adrenaline firing through her veins, the fear and hopelessness trapped in her mind, and the scorching tenderness of her bruising skin was keeping her from thinking clearly.
No.
"What is that?" Octavian asked again with more cruelty laced into his words.
With strength no one could ever see in him, Octavian latched his clammy hands around her arm and forced it forward. Squirming and thrashing, she fought to hold onto her compass, her last bit self. She was seconds away from sinking her teeth into his hand when his foot cracked against her ribs, and knocked the air straight out of her.
She wheezed and furled into a ball, blinking the pain away and trying desperately to make her lungs work again. The space between her ribs felt as if they were slowly filling with lava.
Octavian pried her fingers from her beloved compass, and the warm metal slipped from her fingers. Her tears doubled over the rim of her eyes.
"Hhm," he inspected it. Shook it. Tossed it between his hands. Ran his fingers over the edges. Held it up to the light. Nodded at the detailed hammered designs. Examined the scratched glass full of stories and the worn edges that spoke of love.
For a few seconds, the compass was his new toy.
"Pathetic," he decided. "You love this thing. Don't you."
It wasn't a question.
Annabeth could only watch helplessly with dwindling light in her eyes. Her weary heart heaved when he gave another vicious smirk.
"It's a shame you were bad tonight."
It chimed against the ground a few feet from her broken figure and the heel of his boot followed, mashing it into the tiled floor with a heavy crunch.
The little tinkle of shattering glass sliced through her heart once more, and she crumpled completely to the floor.
Octavian laughed delightedly, and stomped down a few more times before he kicked it across the bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut, haunted by the return of her hollowness. The lack of feeling that engulfed her like a fog whenever he broke her in a new way.
Why.
"Clean up. First dance, and cake cutting is going down soon. Don't be late darling."
He examined himself in the fractured mirror once more before smoothing down his pale hair and stepping back to the party.
Don't cry. Annabeth tried to soothe herself. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Tears already had flooded her cheeks, an achy throb was swelling in her throat and her ears were ringing like church bells but she wasn't sobbing yet. She wouldn't let herself sob. She doubted she could properly sob anyways, the corset felt tighter than a medieval torture device.
She lay against the floor thinking of tall handsome trees whispering their secrets to the wind, and of open cloud lush skies that filled her wings. Imagining that she was flying high above a grove of firs in the hot sunshine instead of beaten down in a bathroom.
Percy was in her imagination without her even trying. Grinning, laughing, joking beside her in the sky. His majestic black wings engulfing the air around them as they flew. But no matter how she tried, Annabeth couldn't imagine herself with enormous wings.
Percy.
The rupturing feelings started to become more painful. Like a gunshot wound after infection sets in, or slivers of glass that got stuck deep under the skin.
Percy.
The heaviness of her heart started bleeding through with more tears, and gasping rattles in her chest. Timidly, she glanced at the broken compass with its scattered glass and crumpled face that lay a few feet away from her.
She was scared to see the full extent of the damage but it seemed to be calling to her. The sad shine of its dented edges appeared to latch onto her eyes and draw her in.
Miserably she scooted over to the little thing with a flutter in her wings, and with her white dress trailing. A sudden thump lurched in her heart when she realized what had called her over.
A slip of paper was peeking out from behind the face of the compass with just the hint of a word being visible. Eagerly she yanked it out, and sat back as she read the little delicate slip that was scrawled in Luke's handwriting.
Believe.
She flipped it over but the back was blank. This was all he wanted to tell her. Believe? He left this for her the night he disappeared, he must've meant something by it, he must've had a reason.
But she couldn't see one.
Frustration and anger and misery balled itself into a dense pack in the middle of her chest. She wished Luke was beside her now for the pure purpose of slapping him! What did he mean by this empty, broad word.
As unanswering as Percy.
Then it clicked.
A sharp cold sensation riveted through her spine like a bolt of electricity, and sent warm tingles arching up both wings.
Believe.
It was so simple, so incomplete, so ridiculously unscientific. It was like tears, those things that poured from your eyes for no logical reason and yet they did. It was Percy telling her again and again that he believed she could fly. He believed she could do it. He believed while she doubted everything.
The sparks in her wings doubled, and Annabeth rose to her feet in a silent stupor clutching her last word from luke.
From the corner of her eye she caught her own frumpled reflection and the spark in her back died.
"No," she hissed coarsely to herself. Clenching her eyes shut as she tightened her grip on the slip of paper. "Believe. Believe."
They taught her from the beginning to stay in line, to never try and fly because they couldn't, to stay grounded and sensible and make no room for risks. They stapled into the impressionable heads before them the rules that kept them earthbound. This was the way to be controlled, to fear and doubt.
Pain illuminated her back but Annabeth could barely register it. The gold braces encircling the stems of her wings snapped off and clattered against the ground as she cupped the word to her heart. She could feel all of her energy surging into her wings, her feathers and setting fire to her heart.
How stupid. She felt like crying to herself now. I just had to believe in myself.
The pain, the fire, the rush of electricity stopped. Her wings felt heavy, felt full. And perhaps for the first time in her life, she felt right.
When she looked up, her reflection in the fractured mirror stared back with a strong stance, and a pair of bold eyes. Imperfectly noble with her dirty wedding dress, and smeared makeup, but in awe in the splendor of her new downy white wings stretching the length of her body. The majesty they possessed filled her heart with wonder as she slowly unfurled them to see if they were real.
While running her fingers over the new primaries, a drunkenly delighted giggle peeled through her lips. She smiled to herself as if replaying an inside joke in her mind.
"I guess it's time to dance with cake and cut the Octavian."
Ta da! Wings! Happy?
