Cursed to a Cruel World

by UnbredEel0

Percy broke a promise he made on the River of Styx and has a steep price to pay. Banished to a new world and thrown into another 'world ending' conflict, witness Percy struggle as he tries to make sense of what's happening, adapts to his new environment, and attempts to unravel the mysteries of yet another monster infested world. (Rated M because I don't want to limit myself)

10. Of Wishes and Friendship

Hello again,

Thanksgiving update, woo!

IMPORTANT - Before you read:

In the last chapter, I added a scene between Percy and Annie's POV shift. It was added some hours after the last chapter was originally posted so a number of you may have read the chapter without seeing it. It's about a Wall Cultist preaching in the streets of Trost. While not necessarily as important as the rest of the chapter, I still recommend you guys go back and check it out if you haven't seen it already.

Shoutout to The-Gamer-6818 for the review for suggesting I add that interlude. If you ever feel like my story is missing something, give me a holler. Chapter 9 was missing a break between Percy's 7th and 8th day in prison and adding that scene really helped improve the overall quality of the last chapter. Thanks again, The-Gamer-6818.

Also, shoutout to KloseKom for beta reading this chapter. He's a fanfiction writer too, although he wouldn't want me plugging his story as he's in the midst of rewriting it (kinda like me!) But keep an eye out for him, he'll be a rising name!

Lastly, join 'The Emerald Library' Discord server for insider information on my story, progress reports on the next chapter, and to talk with other fanfiction fans and authors! You can find my personal channel, 'unbredeel0', under the 'Dormitory' category. Drop by and say "hi!"

discord . gg/cNc8Tvc7Gm

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, HOO, or AOT and I'm not profiting off anything.

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Author's note

Narration

Thoughts and Internal Conversations

"Speaking, duh"

Last time

Percy starts his 7th day in prison by waking up from an unexpected dream; a nightmare/memory of the time he spent in Tartarus; specifically when Akhlys, the goddess of misery, had tricked Annabeth and Percy into receiving the death mist. Annie pulls Percy from this nightmare and after catching his breath, they lead into a discussion about demigod dreams which further leads to their aspirations to go home. Bonding with their similar desire to return home, Annie finally opens up to Percy, talking about her father, her personal 'account' of the collapse of Wall Maria, and why she became a soldier. After their discussion, Annie reads Percy a book she had brought for him, a story of a miner trying to dig under Wall Sina.

On Percy's 8th day in prison, Annie's interrogation session begins with a discussion of monsters of which Percy shows Annie the Hellhound scar on his stomach and reveals the concept and existence of The Mist. The conversation then leads to Annie explaining her world to Percy; the existence and creation of the walls, the titan outbreak, and the collapse of Wall Maria. She details how humanity knows little about the titans' biology, how they appeared, or how they live, which leads to further conversations about a titan's weak spot, Percy's battle with that titan he encountered, and titans in Greek mythology.

Chapter 10: Of Wishes and Friendship

Trost District

13 days after the Battle of Trost

(1 week after Eren joins the Scouts)

Erwin's POV:

A loud knocking on my office door kicks my engrossed mind from the paperwork on my desk. While receiving funds for our next endeavor has gone smoother than ever, organizing the placemats of supply wagons and the troops in the formation has never been a simple task. Nor has it ever been, or ever will be, as critical as it will for our next venture.

"Come in. The door's unlocked."

The door swivels inward and a familiar face steps in; a fellow Scout, one with unkempt brown hair tied in a ponytail and wearing her iconic custom-ordered pair of square prescription goggles.

"Section Commander Hange."

"Commander Erwin." Hange greets back with a salute. "I've brought the report of our first week's results with Eren's experiments. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she questions, glancing at the mess of paper bestrewn across my work desk.

"Honestly, I'd rather charge into titan-infested lands than deal with this mountain of paperwork," I answer with a tired grin. "Come, I could use the interruption," I gesture her forward.

"Heh! I'd say the rest of the regiment would agree with that sentiment, sir."

Hange walks across the room and places her report atop my oak wood desk, adding it to the mounds of messy documents.

"What's the situation with Jaeger?"

"Initial attempts to get Eren to transform into his titan form were unsuccessful," the Section Commander summarizes. "But while Eren and the rest of Levi Squad were on lunch break, Eren had… well, he sorta had an accident."

"An accident?"

"Eren had dropped his eating utensil, a spoon, and whilst reaching for it, he assumed titan form. No injuries were incurred, it wasn't even a full transformation. Just his upper torso and his hand. But as the other's pulled him from the titan's nape, in the titan's hand I discovered the spoon! Oooo! It was holding the spoon!"

"What roused the transformation? Surely Eren didn't injure himself with such a simple movement, correct?"

"Not quite, Eren's hands were still recovering from previous attempts to enter his titan form, so he already had open flesh wounds which were aggravated when he reached down. However, the incident led me to conclude this: I figure there are two prerequisites for a human with the ability to transform into a titan to materialize into their titan form. One: to draw blood." She says, lifting one finger for effect. "And two: to have a clear set goal in mind." Hange continues, throwing up a second digit.

"Eradicating the titans, lifting the boulder, protecting his friends from cannon fire, reaching for the spoon… In our experiments, we had given Eren the task to shift into his titan form but I theorize he was never able to transform as his titan form had no clear use. I believe this was the missing variable as to why he has been having troubles shifting on command."

"And when did this incident take place?"

"Three days ago."

"Have you conducted titan-shifting experiments since—ones that have resulted in successful transformations?"

"Oooo! We have! It's all in the reports! What's most amazing is Eren's ability to perform partial transformations, like the time he reached for the spoon. The arms and hands don't always have skin, I believe it might have something to do with the difficulty of the task at hand. And we've attempted partial transformation with his legs but—"

"And what of Eren's control?" I cut Hange off before she delves too far deep into one of her infamous tangents. "Has Jaeger had any difficulty transforming on command since this breakthrough? Has he continued to show any signs of losing his humanity or state of mind?"

"Eren still has trouble… 'getting it on,' you could say. But besides that one lunchtime incident, Eren has yet to transform without expressed permission. Eren's ability is improving, but his control is still shaky. While he hasn't lashed out or lost his composure since the Garrison's operation to replug Wall Rose, I couldn't say what would happen in the 'heat of the moment' scenarios. At this point in time, we shouldn't rely on Eren's titan form in the field. Eren should only transform as a last resort—when all other options have been exhausted."

A sensible verdict I assent.

However, I have this thought. A hunch, one that's been burdening my mind since the revelation of Eren's ability; a rational supposition I should have inquired the brightest minds in the regiment about.

"Section Commander, of your best judgment, do you believe it's possible for others to obtain Eren's abilities?"

"I don't see why not." She resolutely answers.

"Yes, it would be more of an abnormality if Eren's abilities couldn't be replicated in others, wouldn't it?"

"Huh?" Hange tilts her head, confused at where I was taking this.

"Sorry, there are a lot of thoughts coursing through my mind nowadays."

Hange has a brilliant mind. She's an academic through and through, second to no one on the front of titan research. But foresight isn't her strong suit of hers, likely hampered by humanity's need to poke and prod at titans just to learn something from them. It's not a trait one can train, it's something that a person is either born with or earned through experience. Hange will get there someday, she's already a fine candidate for the position of Commander of the Scouts, but a Commander can only go so far without forethought.

Informing her of my theory would only impede her growth as a leader. It's best to wait for her to naturally catch on, to foresee who our real enemies are. And if she doesn't…

I can only pray I won't regret my decision to not advise her sooner.

"Hange, I need you to request a delivery from the Industrial City. An order of six—no, seven stacks of our Special Target Restraining Weapons. 36 barrels in total."

"We're planning on capturing more titans!?" Hange gasps. "OOooOo! I can't wait! Sonny, Bean, I'm so sorry. My babies, the things those awful people did to you! I won't let your new siblings meet your fate, never again!" She throws her hands into the air. "Erwin, I'll be a responsible parent this time. I swear on my honor, I'll defend them to the last breath!"

"You're dismissed."

"Yes. *Ahem*" Hange coughs, collecting herself. "I'll see to that delivery request right away, Commander."

Hange squares her shoulders and dedicates her heart, then makes her leave.

The pieces on the board have been set. I've made my move, publicly announcing our ambition to use Eren's titan ability to reclaim Wall Maria on two separate occasions. There is no question, the enemies in our midst have begun moving their pieces as well.

Next is to compile a list of trustworthy Scouts; any member after the day Captain Levi was recruited should suffice. If our enemies are embedded deeper in our ranks than that, the war is already lost.

Only the soldiers on this list will be made aware of the titan-capturing equipment the regiment will bring, and only a small fraction of the trusted few will know of the disinformation campaign.

Should everything go to plan, the direction of the enemy's ambush will expose our traitors' identity.

Yes, that's right. Less than a month from now the Scout Regiment will embark on our 57th Exterior Scouting Mission. I anticipate the regiment will be ambushed by a force of titans or by a titan with a human level of intelligence. And will not inform my soldiers of this speculation; they will be slaughtered without a warning or the chance to prepare, all for the possibility of gaining a step over the enemies of humanity.

My only wish is that the anguished fallen could forgive me for sending them to an early Hell.

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Year 850: Percy's 23rd Day in Prison

(1 whole month since Percy has been banished)

Percy's POV:

One thousand, two hundred, and forty-four. That's how many stone bricks line my prison cell walls. It really helps pass the time, counting all the bricks. I make little games out of it, counting with a musical beat or trying to 'speedrun' my count. But sometimes when I try to beat my record, I'll miss count the total number. That's alright, it means I get to restart. But if I miss-count again, that's when it really starts to get worryingly.

Were there always one thousand, two hundred, and forty-five bricks? Where did that extra brick come from? If I count and there are only one thousand, two hundred, and forty-three bricks, where did that one brick go? Under my bed? I'll recount again, methodically planning out the order I count the bricks at so as I don't skip over one or don't recount. Only after I hit that magic number, 1,244, can I finally take a sigh of relief. My sanity is saved.

Can't you tell I've had a lot of fun over the past 16 days?

My days were always the same, with Annie's food deliveries being the only break in my isolation. Same time, same standard rations, every single day. I grew stale to the taste of my servings long ago but I haven't gone hungry since the day Annie renegotiated the size and 'diversity' of my serving.

During Annie and I's 'interrogation' sessions, sometimes the prison guards out in the hallway or Flynn (our wimpy scribe) would occasionally pitch in with off-handed comments and opinions. But most of the time our sessions were one-on-one.

I answered all sorts of questions about Greek mythology, my home, and my life over the past weeks. We talked about the 12 Olympians and some of the other gods, discussing their domains, their myths, and my personal interactions with them. We talked about monsters—furies, sea monsters, Basilisks, Dracaena, Enpousa—what they looked like, how they acted, how dangerous they were, and how to combat them. We talked about quests although we only had the time to talk about the first quest I had ever been on and my experience entering the mythological world. And we talked about various bits about New York and 'my world'; its people, its technology (TVs, cars, iPhones, video games), and other random things.

When I say 'we talked,' I really mean 'I talked while Annie listened and asked questions.' Since the day Annie read me that bedtime story, never again did she care to share the happenings in her life. It's frustrating, being the only one talking; never asking questions of my own, just answering them. But everytime I pry about her father or her life, whatever liveliness and warmth Annie has retreats inward as she reverts to that cold persona of hers.

The last time I asked about her father, we were talking about the day Grover, my mom, and I were booking it towards Camp Half-Blood while getting chased by Pasiphaë's son. When I was explaining the part where Grover took off his pants in the backseat of the Gabe's '78 Camaro and I discovered my best friend legit had a donkey's ass, Annie let out the most sparkling giggle.

But then I ruined it. Seeing her open up at that moment, I figured I should try asking about her father again. Her angelic smile vanished and her eyes became distant, losing their light blue glow. Gone was the carefree girl sharing stories with a friend, in came a teenager in military service performing her duty for her state and father.

I still cringe at the memory, squirming in my seat filled with a great urge to slap myself whenever I'm reminded about how insensitive I acted in bringing up her apparent family troubles and resurfacing her painful separation from her home and family. After cringing over how I ruined her mood that day, my thoughts always drift towards whether Annie had been using our time together as an escape, a place where she could take a break from the duties of a soldier.

I haven't asked about her personal life since.

Besides my sessions with Annie and counting bricks, I slept. I slept a lot. It's the best (and fastest) way to pass the time between the lulls in the days and nights. The Curse of Achilles helped me out there, I don't know what I would have done without the assistance of its energy-sapping side-effect. I probably would've imploded from the itch of ADHD. Or lost my mind.

But sleeping, counting bricks, and interrogation sessions weren't all I did in the past 16 days. I've also been practicing a skill of mine.

---

Flashback

15 days ago, Day 8 of Prison

"Yankee Doodle, keep it up!

Yankee Doodle dandy!

Mind the music and the step!

And with the girls be handy!"

"God, He's so fucking annoying." Dumb, one of my cell guards, complains. "Does he not get tired of it?"

"He will, eventually, I hope…" Dumber, my other guard, replies.

"There was Captain Washington

Upon a slapping stallion,

A-giving orders to his men,

I guess there was a million!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dumb cries, banging on my steel door to interrupt my harmonious singing.

"Idiot, he's trying to rile you up. You're just giving him what he wants."

"I can't sit through this every day!"

"Yankee Doodle, keep it up!

Yankee Doodle dandy!

Mind the music and the step!

And with the girls be—"

*Plonk!*

A small stone soaring through the barred window of my cell door and strikes me dead in between the eyes. I turn my palms up, catching the harmless pebble before it hits my sheets.

"Damn! Nice shot!" Dumber cheers, peering through the door's window.

"That shut him up!" Dumb gloats, peering through the window as well. "Serves you right! Now keep quiet!"

It's not that I stopped singing because of Dumb's shouting and pebble throwing, I'm just too preoccupied with this new toy in my hands. It's too small to harm another person with and I don't think I could 'fashion' it—as in, break it into a thin piece—to pick a lock. Besides maybe using it as a distraction, I can't think of any other uses it could have in any escape plan.

Eyeing the walls of my cell, my arms fling the pebble at the right side wall on impulse. I reach my hands out, hoping to catch the rock as it bounces back, but unlike a tennis or lacrosse ball, it hits the wall with a *thud*, ricocheting barely an inch away off the stone brick.

"Nice try but a stone isn't elastic, dumbass."

Ignoring Annabelle's taunting, I slip out of bed. The rock had landed just out of reach of my chained hands, but after a few attempts of reaching for it with my foot, I'm able to kick it back into reach.

I pick the pebble up off the floor.

What to do… What to do…

With a flick of my wrist, I toss the pebble straight up into the air. Holding out my palms, I catch it as it falls, then toss it straight back up. Repeating this a couple of times, I find myself back to square one. Juggling a single rock can only bring so much amusement.

What to do… What… to… do…

"Oooo, I have an idea!"

Alright, let's hear it.

"You know how a half-blood's divine blood endows them with supernatural abilities?"

"Uhh, yeah?"

"And you know how a demigod has some level of control or skill over the realm of their godly parent?"

"Yes, I'm aware. Where are you taking this?"

"Patience. What are your father's domains?"

What? Don't tell me you think I could have some other power from dad?

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Really?! What is it? I mean, I know my dad being the father of horses allows me to speak with them, but do you think I could—

"No, don't finish that thought! Urgghh—just, hold the pebble out in your hand."

I follow Annabelle's instructions, holding out my hands and closing my eyes, somewhat knowing what's about to come.

"Good. Now—I'm not sure if this will work, but—focus on that feeling of 'tugging from your gut' and try to put it inside the rock."

Makes sense; the core is the center of a person's physical might and whenever I use my water powers, the core also happens to be where I draw my divine power from. I'm not sure where Annabelle is going with this, but I'll try.

I flex that imaginary muscle to access my godly power and open its gates. I try to imagine it 'flowing' into the rock, but instead, my energy passes straight by it and begins to affect the course of water in the building's pipes. I pause my efforts.

Blowing up a toilet is not a good look.

"Focus harder."

I give it a second go, blocking out all my other senses to focus solely on the feeling of drawing power from my core. But whenever I try to direct the flow into the rock—again, I find the power skipping over it, searching for water in my vicinity to manipulate instead.

It's not working. Why don't you just tell me what you're trying to make me do?

"Hmmm. Try using more power?"

If it doesn't work just bash it harder!

"Don't sass me! Come on, I have a feeling we're close to making it work."

I relent and begin tugging harder from my gut. But yet again, in my failure to achieve anything with the rock, I find myself locked in a tug-of-war of trying to contain my power from controlling surrounding sources of water. My head begins to hurt from the strain, but I keep holding back the tide while trying to pull more and push it into the rock.

Wait. My headache isn't from straining my focus. The power's rising to my head!

"Abort! Abort!"

I clap my hand together and immediately stop drawing power. In an instant, I get a splitting migraine, one so painful it makes it seem like my whole world is shaking. When it stops, I notice something has changed.

The pebble.

I crack open clasped fingers to peek on the rock but as I open them, a fine grain of sand slips between my digits, spilling onto my bed.

Was that me?

"...Yeah…"

What was that?

"That, my friend, is our key to salvation."

Before I can ask what Annabelle means, a scuffling of footsteps and sounds of conversation in the hallway outside gives me a new worry.

Shit! Is that Annie?!

"Time flies when you're having fun."

Ahhh! The Sand!

I frantically wipe down my sheets, but I'm only able to manage a few by the time my cell door gets unlocked. I shoot back, sitting upright and trying to act nonchalant as Annie and Flynn enter the room. But in the corner of my eye, the sand is still clearly visible. To make matters worse, Annie plops my food tray right next to the residue.

There's no way she didn't see it.

"You reek." She comments, wrinkling her nose.

"It's not my fault! I haven't bathed in like over a week. You guys won't let me!"

"And what's this?" she asks, tracing a finger through the sand residue on my bedsheets. She brings her hand up to her face to inspect it in a better light. Then she rubs her digits together, feeling the granular texture.

Annie turns her attention back to me with a judgmental, distasteful stare.

"Why is your bed so damn filthy?" She asks.

"Well—I uhhh… I was, bored?"

"Why was that a question?"

"Uhhhh…." I can practically feel my face flushing red with embarrassment.

"How did you manage to get this much sand in your sheets?"

"Well… Tobias, Noah, whatever Dumber's name is, he was pelting me with these little pebbles. I was bored, like I said, and a little frustrated. So… I thought I'd…" With my hands, I pretend to hold two imaginary stones and I gesture to Annie that I repeatedly smashed them together.

"What a god-awful excuse! Even Heracles could have come up with something better."

"Seriously? Bashing rocks?" Annie condescendingly asks. "Are you a little kid?"

"Hey! I have nothing to do for the entire day! The en-ti-re day!"

"And you couldn't have thought to not strike them over your sheets?"

"I wasn't thinking about it—I mean! Nope, it was totally planned! Because now I have something to do!"

"Please stop."

I'm too deep to stop now! What else am I supposed to do?

I lean forward and brush my sheets with exaggerated strokes. Even after five, six, seven brushes, my hand continues to pick up copious amounts of sand. I can feel myself brushing the particles off my bed, but it's as if there's an endless supply of it!

"See?" I ask Annie, nervously chuckling as I continue to wipe.

"Yeah, sure."

---

Present time

My haphazardly created excuse worked, somehow Annie bought my story.

Annabelle said it was due to my image as being 'mentally unbalanced.'

Since Dumb never got scolded for pelting rocks at me, I was able to keep experimenting. All I had to do was sing Yankee Doodle, 1000 Bottles on the Wall, or some other song they hated to get a new supply of stones to work with. Dumb and Dumber thought it was hilarious that I was 'bashing rocks' together like a caveman for entertainment but thanks to their supply, I was able to get real good at my new trick; growing to control it to a fine degree I never believed possible.

At this point, I'm pretty confident I can break my cuffs and chains and escape my cell. However, Annabelle goaded me into promising I wouldn't attempt it unless the status of my captivity didn't change after spending my first month here; still going off that strategy of building trust with compliance.

But the real reason I haven't broken out: the fear Annie would be punished for my actions.

I've hit a wall in my training since then. There's only so much I can do within the confinement of my underground cell. But if I was out in the open and tried it, I wonder if it would be strong enough to cause an actual—

"Hey! This area is off-limits to civilians!" Dumb yells from the hallway.

"Leave the premises, now!" Dumber orders, backing his companion.

"Chill out guys, I'm in the military police," a female voice explains. "Look. Here's my patch."

It isn't Annie.

"Why aren't you in uniform?" Dumber asks

"It's my day off, I was about to go out and have some fun."

"You know the rules."

"Yes, I do. But Annie threw this at me last minute. So let me deliver the prisoner his meal and I can go on with my day. Alright?"

While my guards don't verbally agree to let this girl in, the metal click of my cell door tells me they did.

A young, fair-skinned girl with an average height and a slim build enters my cell. She's not wearing a military uniform, dressed in this light red, long-sleeved dress with golden buttons at the upper chest area and with a white shoulder collar. She has an oval face, light green eyes with long eyelashes, and thin eyebrows. Her hair is champagne-colored, wavy, and kept at chin height. In her hands is a tray of food, the tray Annie always brings.

"Uhh, you're not Annie."

"Way to point out the obvious, dumbass."

"So this is what Annie has been doing. Playing housewife, serving food to her man in bed," The girl comments, ignoring my observation.

"Sorry, but who are you?"

"The fine lady delivering your meal for the day." She says, plopping my daily rations on my bed. "You're welcome, by the way."

I stare down at my food for a good second then look back up to my visitor, still waiting for her to introduce herself.

"You know what? I'm not sure if the dim lighting is playing tricks on me but you're quite the looker." the girl winks. "Annie never told me she was visiting such a hunk every day."

"Uhh, what'd she say about me?"

"Nothing pleasant. She gave me the impression you were the type of guy who'd rip your hair out if we didn't place you in a straight jacket."

"Jeeez, thanks Annie…"

"Don't take it too personally, she's like that with everyone. Although the papers were describing you the same way…" She trails off. "Oh, the name's Hitch by the way."

"I'm Perc—"

"Perseus Jackson—the guy whose skin can deflect bullets—yes, I know who you are."

The girl, Hitch, crosses her arms and just stares at me. I turn my head away, turning my attention to my food to escape her gaze. But after drinking one, two, then three spoonfuls of my potato soup, I can still feel her judgmental eyes observing me.

Didn't she tell the guards she was in a rush?

"So… how do you know Annie?" I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Well, I consider myself to be Annie's best friend, but knowing her, I bet she tells everyone I'm just her roommate."

"She never told me she had a roommate."

"Honestly, that girl!" Hitch humphs, putting her hands on her hips. "She's so annoying. Always so dark and anti-social, and her jokes suck. Like, today she told me she had a date with a 15-meter titan! Her humor sucks; she needs to go out more often."

"Umm, ok. So where is she today? Annie's the one who usually delivers me my meals."

"Annie's out looking for some rich man's missing daughter. So yeah, she's not coming in today."

"I thought her only job was… well, me."

"Nope, she has other assignments. Although… that missing person case is actually mine…"

"What?"

"Yeah, Annie was generous enough to take up the case for me so I can go out today."

I doubt Annie's the person to do a favor for someone out of the goodness of her heart.

"And the catch?"

"I agreed to cover for her tomorrow. Annie said she'll be taking a sick day."

Ah. There it is.

"Wait! Annie's not coming in tomorrow either?"

"Oh wow! You look like an abandoned puppy!" she teasingly laughs. "Don't worry, she'll be back with treats soon. Be a good boy until then, alright?"

"Hey!"

"If it was anyone else, they'd take one look at your face and head straight to Human Resources to file a report about your relationship with Annie. But don't worry, I won't tell." She finishes wagging her pointer finger.

"She's a friend."

"Oh really now? Tell me about Annie then."

"What do you mean?"

"What is she like? What are her hobbies? What's her past? I mean, Annie and I have been working on assignments together and have been sharing the same room for almost a month now, and she's still a big mystery! You should at least know as much as me. And if you don't, how could you claim to be her friend?"

"You're… right… I really don't know much about her…"

"Hey, like I said before, don't take it personally." Hitch sighs. "That's just the type of person she is."

"I mean, every time I try to ask more about her father or more about her life, she goes back to being all stoic and withdrawn."

"Huh? Her father?"

"Yeah, I want to know how he's doing, with his leg and all. Annie said that's why she became a soldier—to pay for his treatment. But whenever I bring him up, Annie always locks herself away. I hope she just really misses him but I'm starting to think that maybe his condition worsened or something."

"Woah woah woah! Hold on! Annie talked about her family, to you?!"

"I mean, it was a while ago and only for a brief minute. I don't know much else about her. You're right, how could I consider myself her friend when I—"

"She must really like you then." Hitch whispers.

"Huh?"

"I didn't even know she had a living family member. I thought her whole family died when Wall Maria was breached."

"Annie told me her father survived because he was in the interior at the time getting treatment for his leg."

"Hmm, is that so?"

Hitch turns her head, puts a hand up to her chin, and bites the tip of her thumb in distress.

"She might be keeping you an arm's distance away, but compared to me… you're close. Closer than anyone else, probably." Hitch removes her thumb from her face and turns back to me. "She never told me anything about her father."

"M-maybe she just felt safe. Like a "who's this maniac to judge me" kind of safe."

"No, that's not her… That's not her at all. I think she likes you. I think she really considers you as a friend."

"You're her friend too!" I try to reassure her, seeing the disappointed look on her face. "You said it yourself, she's not a very expressive person, but—"

"But not in the way she opened up to you."

"She— I—"

"Maybe someday I'll get to know her better. Until then, I'll see you later Percy."

Hitch swivels around, her hair and light red dress swinging in the air, following her movement.

"Wait!"

"Sorry, but I got plans!" She calls as she briskly steps out of my cell. "You can ask me out another time!"

It doesn't take long for the sound of her footsteps to fade away from the hallway outside.

That girl sure was…

"Outgoing? Carefree? Laid-back? Social?"

Different. She's like the complete opposite of Annie.

"It's funny they got roomed together. Their dynamic must surely be a watch-worthy scene."

Yeah… I bet it is.

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Year 850: Percy's 25th Day in Prison

4 am

Percy's POV:

Annie's friend was right, Annie must have taken a sick day today.

"Did you really stay up all night in case she came to visit?"

No!

"Why else are you awake at this time?"

I'm just antsy, alright?!

"Sure. Sure."

….

"…."

I wonder what she's doing?

"Uhh, sleeping? Duh."

No, I mean—I wonder what she was doing today?

"Going out on a date? Running around with her friends? Relaxing at a spa?"

Do you think she went to go visit her father?

"Maybe."

Not having Annie visit for two days in a row sucks. I had my 'time passing' strategy down to a tee, and her visitation was an integral part of that. My guards still delivered me my meal for the day, but it wasn't the same. Nor was it the same with Hitch. Having a mentally stimulating discussion with someone other than Annabelle—you know, who's a voice in my head, was probably the only thing keeping me sane. I feel worse off since Annie last visited, worse off than I normally do.

Annabelle has seemed more talkative than usual. I appreciate the company, but her activity can't be a good sign.

"You know, your reaction to this was less explosive than I thought."

What do you mean?

"You've grown… 'complacent.' Like you're losing your values. Your nature.

Great, so basically I've turned into Briares.

"Yup, and it's quite sad actually."

Fuck you, this is your fault.

"I'm just stating the obvious. Your confinement goes against the literal coding in your DNA. When fighting against your nature there can only be two types of reactions: explosive resistance, or a dispirited loss of one's self."

You knew this was going to happen?!

"This reaction was expected—yes."

Fuck. You.

"Careful, you don't want to cause an eart—"

"Hey! Make yourself known! No visitors are permitted at this time of—" Dumber's loud orders are cut short by two thuds. One thud being flesh on flesh, the other being coming from a body hitting the floor.

A fight! Outside my cell!

"Shit! You'll pay for—Blaghh!" Dumb's voice gets cut off as his attacker strikes him as well. Dumb begins wheezing terribly like the wind was knocked out of him. Another thud silences his gasps for help.

"Prepare yourself."

Is it that 'Jack the Ripper' guy again?

"It's likely."

I slide out of my bed, doing my best to keep my covers and my clothes from rustling and minimizing the jiggle of the chains on my feet and connected to my hands. The anticipation irritates my skin, forming non-existent itchy sensations out of nothing. It's hard to ignore them, but my ADHD brain is too insistent. I inch my hands to my neck, my chains softly clinging as I drag my fingernails across my skin.

"Seriously?!"

Shut up. It's itchy.

"They're going to know you're awake!"

I freeze at the gentle clangor of my cell door becoming unlocked. The door slowly opens, steel hinges eerily screeching all the way. In the doorway stands a short figure. The hood over their head and the light shining behind them from the hallway obscures their face. They take a step into my room, then another step towards me. I take a step back, bending my knees in case they attempt another 'Ripper' dash. They raise their hands, my eyes scouring their frame for any signs of weapons. Noticing my tension, they momentarily pause. Then they move again, lifting their hands past their waist, over their shoulders, and up to their clocked hood, grabbing the cloth's edges and sliding it off their head.

Platinum blonde hair. A girl. Young features. A Roman Nose—

"Annie? What are yo—why are you here so late?"

Her bangs cover her face, concealing her eyes, and she looks a bit… raggedy. The heavy breathing and groans of pain from Dumb and Dumber outside tear my focus away from her condition and towards theirs.

"Why did you attack them?"

"I needed to see you…" she murmurs.

"Was that necessary? You could have just waited until tomorrow. Gods, if they saw your face, you'll get in—"

"I n-needed to see you." She repeats in a wavering voice. "I… I couldn't…"

Her lips tremble and she keeps her hair-covered eyes glued to her feet.

"Annie…"

Annie raises her hands again, this time to brush her bangs out of her face. She tucks them behind her ears, then looks up. The haunting expression in her quivering bloodshot eyes hits me like a truck.

Guilt. Remorse. Shame. A toxic sense of self-hatred…

"Annie… what happened?"

She wraps one arm across her body, grabbing her other arm's elbow like she usually does when she doesn't know what to say. It's not out of bashfulness, her arms quiver as if she's trying to contain herself.

Did… something happen to her dad?

"Are you ok?"

I immediately regret asking, clearly she's anything but fine. Slowly, Annie hesitantly shakes her head in response.

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

"I…" She lets out a hoarse breath, the breath of a person on the verge of breaking down. "I c-committed a crime. A horrible crime."

I try to take a step closer but my chains connected to my wrist cuffs unslacken and pull me back a step.

"What are you talking about?"

"I… killed people. Good people." She explains, pausing with a sobbing gasp.

"Who did you—"

"I had to kill them. I had to, to get back to my father. It was the only way." A lone tear runs down her cheek. "They're going to find out, Percy. They're going to lock me away."

"I can't— I… I don't w-want to break the p-promise I made to him." She begins to sob. "I promised I w-would return home to him."

"Annie…"

She tightens her grip on her arm and lets out another sobbing gasp, a failing attempt to hold in her pain.

"Why tell me this? Annie, why did you come to me at this hour?"

"I… I wanted…. I—"

She wants to be judged.

"I understand."

Annie looks down. Another fat tear rolls down her cheek, this one coming from the opposite eye. I take a step back, then another.

"Go on then. Step forward. Let me judge you." I beckon.

Annie freezes, her eyes unfocused but wide. She rotates her hands across her body, wrapping her upper body with her arms and resting her crossed palms at the base of her collar bond. Then she takes a shaky step forward. Then another. Then another, until she stands within a step of the reach of my chains.

I take a step forward to meet her, which makes us only a foot apart from one another. Annie is a cautious girl, I can't remember a time we were ever physically this close, not when she places food on the edge of my bed and not even when she read me that book. I raise my shackled wrists to my face, then over my head. Annie flinches, then quickly raises her arms to cover her head as I swing my shackles downward. But instead of clobbering her over the head with them, my cuffs fall behind her head, slipping past her nape to rest just at her shoulder blades.

I give her a hug.

With her arms still locked in that position to block 'my blow,' Annie uses them to keep our bodies separate; trembling, tense, and hesitant as to what to do. Then what's left of the gap between us dissolves as she melts into my hold like the affection starved girl she is.

"Why?! Why…. Don't you understand?" She sobs into my chest. "I killed people—innocent people! I slaughtered them like insects, without a hesitation. Why are you… treating me like this? I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this…"

Charles Beckendorf getting blown up on the Princess Andromeda, Bianca di Angelo climbing into that Talos prototype, Lee Fletcher getting squashed by a giant… Memories of those I failed to save replay in my head. Silena Beauregard getting stuck down by that drakon, a hunter of Artemis getting pelted by enemy arrows while she covered my back, and numerous faceless demigods, torn apart by cyclops or carried off in the jaws of Hellhounds into the shadows of dark alleyways… Riptide, in its divine golden-bronze glory, ripping through the flesh of those who turned to Kronos' side. Those who I failed to bring back into the light. Misguided kids, who just wanted change. Who just wanted a family. My cousins.

"Because you're in pain," I answer. "You feel remorse, guilt for what you did. Of what you did."

"I didn't need to kill that many. I…" Annie violently shudders in my hold. "I was hunting them for the t-thrill of it. I got carried away. I'm a m-murder."

"You're just a kid."

"No, I'm not. I understand right from wrong. What I did was wrong, and I knew it was wrong when I was doing it."

"You had no choice. You thought it had to be done to get back to your father. I don't blame you, something forced you to act."

"No! You're wrong, it was all my choice. I… I could've c-chosen not to do it. You don't understand what happened—what I did. You don't u-understand…"

"Yeah, you're right. I don't understand. But the Annie I've come to know is a good person."

"I'm not. I'm not a good person." She trembles. "It's just like you said all those weeks ago. I'm a monster. A monster…."

"A monster doesn't feel regret, Annie. Monsters don't seek forgiveness."

Annie's dam of emotions breaks; every ensuing choked gasp wettens my shirt a little more. I'm far too concerned to will it to dry, but all I can do is hold her, swaying her petite form in my arms as she lets it all out.

"Monsters don't cry."

"They're going to f-find me. They're going to find me, lock me away, then kill me. I c-can't let that happen. I can't break the p-promise I made. My father—"

"I won't let them do that," I reassure her, still rocking her in a hug. "I'll get you back to your father."

"You can't promise that."

"Annie, I can break out of my cell right now if you need me to."

"Why?" She removes her head from my chest, looking up at me with tear-ravaged eyes.

"Why not? It's not like I'm doing much, I'm sure I can spare some time." I grin. "I can help you escape. If you need my help, all you have to do is say the word."

A sporadic clash of emotions spark behind her light blue irises; suspicion and doubt struggling against joy and relief. The fighting is tense and it appears the stalemate would never end—until both sides are kicked out by a new overwhelming force.

Annie's cheeks flame up to a dangerous hue of red as her introvertness returns to her full force. Embarrassment written on her face, she immediately worms her way out of my arms, taking a step back away from me and brushing off her clothes as if hugging another person is one of the filthiest things you can do.

Still, our hug went on longer than I thought it would. I'm glad I was able to provide Annie with some momentary comfort before her normal haphephobian shyness returned to her.

"'Haphephobian?' Since when did you learn that word?"

I dunno.

"Do you even know what that means?"

No, but it sounds right.

"Athena's wisdom, using big words you don't understand the meanings of doesn't make you smart."

Annie returns to her signature 'holding one arm' stance, occasionally lifting her hand to wipe away the flow of tears that still leak from her eyes. She tries to constrain her sniffling, forcing her mouth to stay shut during breathing convulsions, but Annie's efforts to force her breath back to normal ends up giving herself the hiccups instead.

"I can't. I can't r-run away—" She tries to explain, interrupted by a noisy hiccup. "Not until my mission is c-complete. They'll k-kill me if I don't return with the coordinate."

Who's 'they'?

"The interior police?"

"Everything is going to be ok." I try to reassure her. "You're going to be ok."

"Why…" Annie whispers, her head turned, unable to meet my eyes. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because you're a good person, and… you're my friend."

"I'm not a good person." She bites her lip. "I've been using you to get back home. I never wanted to get to know you, I was investigating your powers and origins."

"I know."

"I took advantage of you! Of your loneliness! Of your mental state!" Annie flips around. "If you knew, why did you keep—" She gasps at a stray hiccup. When she catches herself, she begins with a much lower volume.

"Why did you go along with it? Every interrogation I would berate you with questions, and you'd just answer without hesitation, with that stupid smile on your face. If you knew, then why? Why go along with it?"

"Because I didn't care. I still don't care."

Annie wipes at her eyes again, drying the last of her tears. As she calms her breathing by putting a hand over her chest, I can practically see her normal antisocial, anti-expressive persona returning to her, with the only evidence her walls ever fell being her tear-irritated eyes and the fading blush on her cheeks.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I… I just want to go home."

"Lay low until you can get your 'coordinate' or whatever. If they find you, fight. If not, finish your mission and return home."

"No. I don't want to cause more harm. I'm sick of it, I'm done fighting."

"Then run! Run as far as you can! Run away from those chasing you. Run home to your father and take him with you. If you don't want to fight, then just run! There's no shame in that."

"And if they catch me?"

"I'll break out and come save you."

"What if you can't?"

"I can."

"What if you change your mind?"

"I won't."

"I don't know that."

"Annie, I'll come back for you. I swear on the River Styx, I'll get you home. I'll bring you to your father. I promise."

I'm not sure if Styx's oath works in this world or if my cell is just too deep underground for us to hear the ensuing thunderclap of an oath being sealed. Regardless, don't intend on breaking my promise.

Never again.

"And after I save you, we can talk for real. No interrogations. No weird hidden motives. We'll have an actual conversation, ok?"

"…. Alright." She eventually relents.

Annie hesitates, taking a little stutter step backwards, then flips around with a word. Darting out of my cell, she lifts her cloak back over her head herself, concealing her face. The last thing I see is the winged emblem of the Scout Regiment on the back of her green cloak as it flutters behind her.

"Uurrggghh."

Dumb and Dumber's painful groaning outside reminds of the wide-open door. My guards are knocked out, it's the dead of night, my cell door is unlocked… All I would have to do is focus my energy and use my new little trick to—

"Now's not the time."

It's not like I was gonna do it, but shouldn't we at least consider it? I mean—we're never going to get a chance like this again.

"You're right, we aren't going to get an opportunity like this again. But the Military Police are going to see this too. So if we don't attempt to escape now, they'll think you don't have the capability or the will to escape."

I don't know. Annie said she doesn't want our help right now, but shouldn't we follow her anyway? She's clearly in trouble.

"It's in Annie's best interest if we wait. If you break out, it'll bring more attention and focus on her. We have to trust that she can handle herself until she completes whatever she's trying to do. Our role is to jump in if she needs someone to help bail her out."

….. You're right.

"When am I not?"

…

"Don't answer that."

It was nice seeing Annie let her feelings free, I only wish it could have been under a better scenario. Like training that new power, I felt like I hit a wall in getting to know Annie. I felt like I made good progress today. But it's not just that, our talk seemed to lift a great burden off her shoulders. I can't imagine the stress Annie's going through; with some secret organization threatening to kill her while trying to financially support her father by becoming a soldier.

"Annie isn't a soldier, she's a warrior."

Huh?

"I didn't understand what it meant back then—back when she called herself a warrior—but I understand now."

…. A soldier follows their orders, no matter the cost. Whether they think it's right or wrong, they stay loyal and true to the military they serve.

"They work for pay and for comfortable lives; which just so happens to be Annie's excuse for joining the military."

But warriors don't have a payday. They fight for what they believe is right, even if they have to get their hands dirty in the process.

"A 'good' soldier may enlist and fight for their beliefs, but at the end of the day, when they are faced with orders that contradict their beliefs, they'll still rise to the call."

Annie is fighting for herself. She's fighting to return home. She's fighting for her dad.

"That's what makes Annie a warrior."

Stay safe Annie, may the gods be with you.

---

Year 850: Percy's 26th Day in Prison

The next morning after Dumb and Dumber had been found a carried away to be treated, the Commander of Military Police, Nile Dawk, barged in my cell with a company of soldiers demanding I reveal who knocked out my guards and visited me late last night. I kept my mouth shut and told them I would only speak to Annie. Flynn, Annie's scribe who had also entered the room, replied saying no one was able to get a hold of her.

I told them to come back with Annie.

Since the Military Police have yet to return with her, that must mean Annie's still on the run or in hiding. So I haven't received visitors since then, nor have I received my daily meal; Dawk's petty retaliation for my uncooperation.

What had been a sluggish day of dismal solitary confinement is suddenly invigorated by an unexpected frenzy of people barging through the hallway outside my cell.

My cell door is unlocked and flung open without much else of a warning; I squint at the harsh introduction of light. A person jumps into my room, flinging themselves in front of my group of torch-bearing visitors.

Although we didn't spend much time together and I haven't seen her in weeks, her 'unique' personality made an impression. As she points her index finger between my eyes and begins making demands, her name, "Hange", flashes into my memory.

"Tell us everything you know about Annie Leonhart!"

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This chapter was 8.4k words long.

Any guesses as to what that new power Percy was using? Older fans of my story should know what's up…

My biggest worry was that this chapter came on as being too strong or too sudden but my beta readers thought otherwise. What are your thoughts? We aren't going to see Annie again for a long time; I hope it felt like we spent enough time with her. Perhaps I could add additional prison scenes in the future (like memories or flashbacks) whenever it begins to feel like that? I dunno, I'll play it by ear.

Gonna plug that discord server again. Join it and say hello in the 'unbredeel0' channel under the Dormitory section. I provide frequent progress reports on there and whenever I think my next chapter is about to finalized, I'll be asking around for willing beta readers; basically anyone who's willing to read and provide some basic feedback. It'd be like a sneak peek of sorts.

discord . gg/cNc8Tvc7Gm

If you like what you read, hmu with a follow and help me reach my goal of 800 followers! Next update will likely come around during the winter/holiday break. See y'all then!

-Unbred

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Originally Published on 11/25/2021