Chapter 2: In which Malcolm wins and loses (Part 3/3)

As he and Rhode headed west into the forest, Malcolm ignored as best as he could the fact that one of four hands was busy lifting the train of a dress and that two of four eyes (and momentary glances from the other pair) were occupied to make sure that sharp twigs weren't stepped on with sandals. But Rhode duly provided him with nectar—served in a glass of ice, no less—and Malcolm instantly felt better.

"Gaugamela," he said quietly. "Good one." He gave her a nod.

"Alexandrós would not shut up about it," Rhode said under her breath.

At the sight of a couple soldiers, Malcolm forced himself to rein in thoughts that she'd probably known the guy personally.

Sneaking into the shadows of denser thickets, he and Rhode spotted two nearby reds, squabbled at by three more reds. Malcolm and Rhode stayed put. Two screeches later, the Ares team parted ways.

Sans leader, sans base, how many different gangs had Ares split into now? Must've been roaming like pests all over the forest. Ugh, what a pain it would be to track them all down, no thanks to the goddess at his side.

But a rustling of leaves followed, accompanied by swooshing and oofs, as a blue-helmed squad caught up to the smaller Ares bunch.

Luck must've been on Malcolm's side.

Except was it really luck? True, Rhode might have made it more difficult to hunt down the gangs, but his job was easier in this case, wasn't it? The goal here, after all, was to drive them all out—Hermes and Ares—not to keep peace or save any lives.

Successful in their mission, the Hermes soldiers headed deeper into the forest, towards the larger of the Ares crews.

Neat. Hopefully, Hermes's numbers would dwindle, too.

"I guess you deserve credit for how easy we have this," Malcolm said to Rhode. "I'll still say for the sake of Alicia's safety that it wasn't a risk that needed to be taken, but splitting up the enemy definitely helped." That is, since the remaining Ares soldiers weren't collectively intelligent enough to optimize decision-making.

Rhode seemed surprised at his admission.

Malcolm could've rolled his eyes. "My ego isn't that big," he said. Ego tended to lead to stupid decision-making, after all. "And I'll appreciate any factor that'll wrap up this game ASAP. This has to end soon. I have work to get to."

"That's a joke, right?" she said.

"Well, New Athens isn't going to build itself, and I'm the city planner, so I have a constantly growing pile of things on my plate."

Rhode turned towards him. "So you're the one running the ship. My father's mentioned the developments."

"He's been helping the funding a lot as a patron god," Malcolm said. "You can tell him thanks from me."

Her gaze fixed on his. Bluer than grass, greener than the sky, dancing between teal and emerald… Malcolm still couldn't pinpoint the color.

"I mean, I would," Malcolm said, "but he's obviously super busy, and I'm not just going to bother him..."

"I'll tell him," Rhode said.

The two continued to stroll at Rhode's pace in a covert pursuit of the enemy. But between the bright blues and oranges on Rhode's dress and whatever flowery shampoo or soap he detected off her, there was no way they'd manage to remain hidden for long. Now, this is why she should've changed.

Let it go.

The clamoring soldiers were in view again, still heading north. "Shall we ambush them?" Rhode whispered.

Malcolm regripped his sword into a comfortable position. Rhode used a clip to get hair out of her face.

You can tie it.

"You ready?" he asked.

"You go left, I go right," she said.

Before Malcolm and Rhode could even flank the blue team, the enemies had spotted her. Rhode conjured a wall of water, turning the flood into rows of spikes. The hoplites instantly switched their swords for spears.

Damn Hephaestus gear.

But, held in the middle, the opponents' twelve-foot spears were effectively six feet long. Rhode's, however, remained twelve, and they squiggled between the ranks, jabbing at the opponents in quick stabs and effectively splitting the phalanx. Yet, even with Malcolm's efforts to cave them in from the other side, her strikes couldn't hold back all the soldiers.

Catching Rhode's wide eyes and retreating steps, Malcolm threw two petrified seashells to his left. A force of water that vaguely resembled something equestrian burst forth, trampling their opponents in a stampede. And with a deep breath, the sea nymph was poised once more.

"It's more difficult when I have to hold myself back," she said to Malcolm after they disarmed the remaining enemy and threw them into a new jail.

Malcolm wondered if the worst were over. In the next three minutes, he and Rhode ambled northward, seeing nothing but flora. Another minute passed and Rhode briefly paused to reposition her hair clip before resuming her stroll. Her eyes flitted down, left, right, and center—never behind for some reason, unless she counted on Malcolm to do that—all as she brushed her fingers through her long, black hair.

Two hands down, then.

Malcolm shut his eyes. Let it go.

"Does capture the flag typically get this anticlimactic?" Rhode asked.

The son of Athena couldn't help but snicker. "Sometimes."

A full four minutes passed (Malcolm counted three more hair adjustments). Distracted by Rhode's hair and the heat, and wishing for more wind, Malcolm's mind wandered. In his faraway state, his brain got to processing his current, nearly surreal reality: that he was in New York again, permanently at that, and was now sauntering through the woods with a goddess in order to help his siblings (and Percy) overthrow the camp. Who'd'a thought?

He found himself enraptured by how light could reflect off seemingly the blackest black instead of being absorbed by it. Oh, but then perhaps that wouldn't be the blackest black. Or was it loads of conditioner that did the trick?

Thoughts then turned to eco-friendly ingredients. What also was the optimal way for New Athens to minimize plastic waste from the production and use of daily hygiene products? A recycling facility ought to be set up in the city, naturally. Maybe someone would also create a supermarket with product refills? But would that be more expensive for the company?

That wasn't on him to deal with, however. And, of course, he'd have to focus on building the foundational base of the city before truly tackling specific environmental policies. What would be the results of the New Athenian effort to crowdsource the city constitution? Now that the round 1 surveys had been administered and the focus groups were wrapping up discussions—

Malcolm nudged Rhode's arm and gestured to their left, from where a group of five gabby Hermes soldiers was approaching. His warning was pointless, however. Mariana Torres, a daughter of Aphrodite, spotted him and Rhode almost instantly.

"Hey, Malcolm," another of them called out. Malcolm recognized him as one of Leo's brothers, Suleiman Azikiwe.

"Yo."

"Hello there," Rhode said, shooting her with her friendly smile. An almost subtle hair flip accompanied the greeting as she faced them.

A second of indecision provided Malcolm plenty of opportunity to steal a sword from Mariana and gave him time to prepare for a brawl from the rest.

Meanwhile, Aphro dude (Malcolm couldn't for the life of him remember what his name was) practically glitched. "Uh, who in Hades are you?" he said.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rhode coquetted.

"Careful. That's probably some trick," Mariana reasoned—though her brother Mark Antony Flores didn't seem to mind.

"Excuse me. I'm very much real," Rhode said.

Aphro dude could barely believe his eyes. He stared at the goddess for an unhealthy amount of time, his gaze lingering at her chest in a way that irked Malcolm and embarrassed him for his own previous gaffe.

With no active defense anymore, Mariana was no match for Malcolm, who disarmed her easily. From his five o'clock, a sluggish Hypnos kid, whom Malcolm had almost missed, summoned the last of his energy to cast a sleeping spell. Malcolm shot out of the way and the curse hit Mariana instead.

Two down, three to go.

Suleiman paid no heed to the action. "Well, damn," he said. "And I've seen Venus. No offense to your mom, Mark Antony."

Get a grip, people.

"Mark Antony?" Rhode said. "I haven't heard that name in a while. Nice name."

"Ahaha, thanks," beamed the teenager.

Malcolm concentrated on exploiting those moments of enemy hesitation that Rhode so effectively provided. Managing to round up the opps surrounding him to one side, he matched the three strike by strike, even knocking Suleiman to the ground.

"Oh, okay, we're really fighting, huh?" Suleiman said.

No shit.

The brawniest of all parties by far, Aphro dude was difficult to manage. The other two, meanwhile, lacked experience; they had never faced war and probably hadn't encountered many monsters. But Malcolm knew Suleiman could pack a mean strike and even baby-faced Mark Antony Flores could be a swift fighter. What were the odds he alone could beat all three?

Wait. Alone?

In his purview, Rhode was just standing there leisurely, her hand on her hip as though she had all the time in the world. What in Hades was wrong with her?

"You're not going to help anymore?"

"Sometimes I'd rather just watch," Rhode replied, eyeing Aphro dude. "I like a man who can handle his own sword."

The hell? Malcolm almost dropped his xíphos.

While the younger demigods laughed, Aphro dude spun his sword in his hand (as if that accomplished anything useful). He charged at Malcolm, trading off technique for greater force.

Seriously?

All Malcolm had to do was let him trip his unbalanced ass to the ground before disarming him.

Pathetic.

"Weight distribution," Malcolm couldn't help but point out. "You can do better than that." But it didn't matter anymore to the groaning face-planted demigod.

"Hey. So, um. However this ends," Mark Antony said to Rhode, "would you— Whoa there, Malcolm!" The son of Venus just narrowly sidestepped a blow. "Would you be up for coffee or something sometime?"

Even Malcolm took a momentary pause to gawk at him. "Dude."

"Shooting my shot," Mark Antony said with a shrug and a glance at Rhode.

But Rhode frowned at him. "Are you even of age?"

Suleiman erupted in a snort. "He's nineteen!"

Rhode apologized.

One caught in embarrassment, the other in laughter, it was so easy for Malcolm to steal their weapons and stick blades to each of their throats.

"Get out," he growled.

"Well, that was easy," Rhode said. She was still standing there, wearing a smirk. Malcolm chose yet again to ignore her.

"I like you," Mark Antony said.

"I like your confidence," Rhode grinned. "But I'm still too old for you."

Meeting Malcolm's disgruntled expression, Suleiman said, "Legit, we weren't gonna beat you anyway."

"Well, you barely tried. How would you know?" Malcolm said.

"Because I still have bruises from our Friday training!" Suleiman protested.

"And if you remember correctly," Malcolm said, "it was Mark Antony who slammed his hilt onto you."

"Yeah, but we were fighting you," the culprit responded.

Amidst Malcolm's reminders that the injury could've been avoided if they had simply been paying attention (to which they attempted to argue that the actual smart thing to do would have been to surrender before the fight had begun, right?), Rhode gave Suleiman an ice pack.

"Oh, shit! You're a goddess!" Mark Antony exclaimed once introductions were finally made.

"And she's Princess," Malcolm added.

The goggling only intensified.

Just as Malcolm and Rhode were about to throw them into a jail, Mark Antony swore on the Styx they'd walk themselves to a prison outside the forest (insisting he absolutely did not need to be escorted to make a pit stop along the way). The young demigod proceeded to his sister over his shoulder, leaving Suleiman to pick up the other two unconscious demigods. Gladly excusing themselves from the scene, Mark Antony and Suleiman jabbered to themselves about the latest video game craze.

Malcolm and Rhode departed in the opposite direction, heading deeper into the forest.

"They talk too much for battle," Rhode muttered.

"That's their usual state. You'd think even if there aren't as many monsters around, people would still take things seriously, but nope."

That had been too easy. Well, of course it was, he realized. How different was this situation, really, to the girls who earned street cred by operating as their fellow gang members' shields? At least Rhode could trust more fully that her rivals wouldn't be as violent. See, maybe if she'd just told Malcolm her tactics in advance, he wouldn't feel the need to question or push back on her most absurd decisions…. Although there was the matter of whether he'd even have approved such a plan. And even so, her ploy left him uncomfortable for more reasons than one.

"Did that feel like cheating to you?" Malcolm asked.

"It's not our fault they're too sexist to want to fight me. Because I have a feeling they'd still go after unarmed, armorless men," Rhode said. "And don't complain. You have work, remember?"

If anything, the son of Athena had to appreciate the efficiency.

"I also would rather be sitting down right now," she said, lifting her train even higher to step over a fallen branch and muttering about how much of a shame it was that she'd just gotten a pedicure.

But, unfortunately for Rhode, the Athena and Poseidon team received orders from Alicia to head towards the cliffs ASAP.

"So, ähm, I'm flying on Blackjack now," the six-year-old said over comms. "I'm going to drop the smoke grenades. Mal and Ms. Rhode, please go right."

"Aww, she's so polite," Rhode noted. "She even said 'please'."

But Malcolm was more concerned with the distance between them and their destination. "Can you run in those sandals?" he said.

"Don't be silly. I'm going on horse," Rhode said, throwing a seashell in the air.

The saltwater sphere that burst out of the shell elongated and split in four at the bottom. Legs and hooves formed. Muscles outlined the haunches and torso of the horse. A tail and neck sprouted out.

"Can Percy do this, though?" Malcolm prodded.

Rhode groaned out a high-pitched sound that made Malcolm's own throat hurt. Though he itched to take off in a run, he figured it'd be rude to leave her to fend for herself.

The goddess took a moment. Her water horse lost its head, its tail, and some height to its legs.

Malcolm raised a brow. "We're wasting one shell on a chair?"

As Rhode took a seat and crossed her legs, the chair stretched to her left to a one-meter width. Malcolm gaped.

"Well, don't just stand there like an idiot," she said. "Hop on." She patted the seat beside her.

"I literally cannot believe this," he breathed. Seriously. How?

The moment he sat next to her, the sofa carried them eastward, out into the clearing, and whizzed north towards the beach. Yeah, this was so fucking weird.

"I look left, you look right?" Malcolm suggested.

Rhode shot a momentary glance before taking heed. "I'll pretend not to be offended that you claimed the useful task and gave me such a pointless one."

"Well," he tried, "you're already dealing with the couch, so I gotta make myself useful somehow."

"Fine." She rested her chin on the upholstered back of the couch.

"For what it's worth, there doesn't appear to be anyone on this side either," he said.

It took another 46 seconds of silence before he caught sight of fleeing opponents on their left. Rhode rotated her couch, and together she and Malcolm shot shells at their moving targets, reminding him of the time he and his mortal brother used those spring-action shooters on a Toy Story ride at Disney World.

A squad of arrowed enemies approached, their flinging weapons destroyed by Rhode's makeshift shield. Two more shields took their opponents out.

Arriving near the cliffs, the duo rose from the trusty couch and regrouped with the other Athenians. Despite his internal warning system crying, DANGER!' Malcolm could freely run in with the comfort that a plan would be executed as optimally as could be allowed for. He easily fell into sync with his siblings, just as they'd practiced repeatedly during their group training. With forming, storming, and norming out of the way, all there would ever be left to do was perform.

Rhode tripped the enemy with her ropes of water, leaving Malcolm to disarm the soldiers and his younger siblings to shoo all those lacking. Annabeth and Claire, meanwhile, rounded in on the opponents wanting to brawl Conrad, who clenched the last flag wrapped around his hand. But an arrow whizzed past the sisters, catching Conrad in the leg. He fell to the ground.

Annabeth swooped for Conrad's thrown flag and ran.

Up on Blackjack, Alicia dropped Annabeth's cap to Claire—but an Ares soldier tackled Claire nevertheless. As Malcolm came to her rescue, Rhode, Sophie, and Zeke molly-whopped the rest of the asses following Annabeth. Leap by leap, Annabeth neared the cliffs, still sending it up on the opps on her way, and in what seemed like slow motion, she ran off the edge.

Malcolm's heart stopped. He knew it was her plan and he trusted Percy with her life, but—

"Annabeth?"

His sister's voice filled the void in his left ear. "I'm fine."

Malcolm let out his breath. The water had caught her. They had captured all four flags.

His other siblings quickly rounded up the remaining enemy. And in the time it took for Malcolm to raise his sword, Rhode tied up the five opponents around him. The only evidence she'd engaged in a fight was her windswept beach waves. Otherwise, she remained completely unscathed.

Ya couldn't do that earlier?!

He gritted his teeth even more as Rhode straightened her dress (as though there were any wrinkles in it at all), looked him dead in the eye, and took a bow, concluding by flipping her hair over her head. Malcolm couldn't make out the details, but it seemed he hadn't imagined the ink on her shoulder.

Knowing for certain that her smirking face was about to spew something infuriating, he got his word in first: "Oh, Princess, you don't have to bow to me."

Rhode shot a disbelieving smile. "Do you feel so emasculated that you have to make some snide remark because I'm far more powerful?"

"I'm not emasculated," he said. "Please. Continue to be my bodyguard. In fact, you can join the next game. I have better things to do than fight over cloths attached to sticks."

"And you thought I couldn't fight in a dress," she said.

"Hey, you two," Conrad said, limping a bit towards them, "we're done. We won."

Rhode rushed to give Conrad some nectar and Malcolm let his brother lean on him as Conrad caught them up with the rest of his siblings' happenings.

Facing an empty clearing and a pile of felled opponents, none of them could hold back a smile at a mission accomplished. They really did it. They'd crushed the whole camp.

Gathering round the beach, the team exchanged cheers and high-fives. But were this not a simple game, Malcolm knew they'd stopped long ago, given Conrad's new injuries and the needless sacrifices of at least four pegasi. He hoped to Athena they'd never want to execute such an arrogant plan in real life. Surely, they were more Periclean than this game suggested.

"You know, I'm sure we could come up with a way to beat you if we wanted to," Annabeth told Percy, even as she smiled at him.

"Normally, I would believe you, but I don't know," Percy said. "Rhode's here, too. She could just protect me and wipe you all out with a snap of her fingers."

"No one messes with my little brother on my watch," Rhode said. "Not even you, Annabeth."

"It's younger brother," Percy corrected.

"I met you when you were sixteen," said Rhode, "so no matter how much you age, Percy, you'll always be my little brother." She kissed his cheek and proceeded to apologize as she wiped lipstick off his face.

The children of Athena and Poseidon agreed to leave it at that and revel in their shared glory. This wasn't simply a one-off game; a payoff matrix would conclude that a win wouldn't be worth the loss of long-run trust.

The pegasi crowded around the Atlantian princess. "Well done, my sweets," Rhode said, laughing as she hugged their necks and pecked their bashful faces.

At this point, all the now-released prisoners had caught on. Malcolm estimated seven-tenths were pissed off, four-tenths were impressed, a third was bored, a quarter was ravenous, and a tenth was unconscious (or perhaps napping).

"Oh my gods. This is so romantic," squealed Valentina, a daughter of Aphrodite. If heart eyes could be communicated in real life, she proved it.

But were of a different opinion—including her own Roman brother, Pravir Bhattacharya, who grumbled about broken rules.

"There's no rule that says that non-demigod siblings can't join," Zeke pointed out.

More complaints of overpowered players were had, and the children of Athena thoroughly refuted their points. Some even threatened to invite their godly siblings to the upcoming games. But in their planning, neither Malcolm nor his siblings had seriously considered the long-term risk of setting a precedent for godly participation—because, of course, it would only be an issue if other godly siblings could give a shit.

Rhode surveyed the protesting opponents before them. "And now I'm making enemies," she murmured to Percy.

"They don't really hate you and you never have to work with them, so we're all good," Percy said.

Betrayals happened often in capture the flag anyway; almost all were forgotten within the week. The other campers were probably more interested in a hearty meal and a nap right now anyway. Indeed, the dining hall was filling up and lines formed by the showers (thank Annabeth and the Hephaestus cabin for installing bathrooms in the cabins).

"What do you do, Ms. Rhode?" asked Alicia.

Thankfully someone voiced the question. Malcolm didn't want to be the one who asked. He'd just focus on ambling over to Cabin Six with Conrad's weight on his right.

"Princessly duties," Rhode replied.

"What does that entail?" Sophie asked.

Yeah, what does that entail? Sitting on a throne, dressing up, and looking pretty?

"Gaining soft power by maintaining and building relationships with sea deities, partaking in trade deals, conducting peace talks, mediating issues between parties in conflict…" Rhode said.

Oh. Huh. Okay. Wow.

To be fair, though, mortal princesses didn't exactly have those roles. Royalty was just a show and a tourist attraction. But that didn't lessen Malcolm's guilt or shame.

"Plus, I get to throw my own party in Atlantis every year, which I will make sure to invite you all to," Rhode said.

"Lord Poseidon would allow children of Athena to visit Atlantis?" asked Alicia.

"Annabeth's visited several times," Rhode said. "And Bampás won't say no to me."

"Anything for his favorite daughter," Percy said.

"Favorite child," she teased, sticking her nose up at him.

"As you deserve to be," he said, throwing an arm around Rhode and squeezing her shoulders.

"No. I can always share the title with you, Percy," she said.

Yet again, Malcolm was forced to do a 180 then another 180. Either Rhode was such an inconsistent character, or he was terrible at judging. Maybe both, but he vowed he'd be less prejudiced. He'd have to observe first before coming to concrete conclusions. That'd do him some good. (And he could deal with the cortisol.)


To celebrate their win, the Athenians decided to throw a party in Cabin Six—their version of a party at least, which involved playing board games over olives and afternoon tea.

When their new Atlantian friend opted to stay for their festivities, Malcolm wondered if she'd realized they didn't have the same definition of "party". It was jarring to see her in the cabin, where that fancy dress clashed even more noticeably with simple Tees. But while Rhode passed on the sencha and olives, taking instead a coffee and some ambrosia, if she felt like she didn't fit, she didn't let it show.

Malcolm eyed his computer and notes but ultimately put thoughts of work aside to partake in a game of Risk, during which Rhode perhaps made it a point not to mess with him. As relieved as he was, he was more annoyed by her suboptimal moves… before he caught onto her play of diplomacy and followed suit. Conrad probably would've won regardless.

Clusters of conversations then formed across the cabin. As Annabeth, Zeke, and Conrad discussed the physics of javelin throws, and Claire, Sophie, and Rhode deliberated over Atlantian energy policy, Malcolm inconspicuously observed Percy and Alicia's chat in an attempt to understand how the son of Poseidon took on childcare. It must've been a superpower of Percy's that he never even felt awkward around these little creatures, much less magic away the reservations of even the shyest of them.

"Alicia, you were incredible out there!" Percy said. He looked up at her face from his crouched stance. "Blackjack says you flew amazingly."

The littlest of the Athenians beamed. "It's easier now. It was weird wearing Annabeth's cap. But it was fun. I used the other smoke grenades and the Ares team was really confused and before they knew it, we caught them! Did you see?"

"I did!" Percy told her. Uncontainable wonder burst from his eyes. "And because you did that, we could get the last flag and win the game! They totally didn't know what they were getting into going against you. They just fell or ran out because of the smoke! That was you! Your mom and dad would be proud."

Alicia's head bowed. "You think so?" she mumbled.

"I know so," Percy said with the kind of affection unknown to godly parents. "I know we're all proud of you. Ask anyone here. You. Were. Awesome." He winked and spread out his arms.

Alicia filled the empty space and let him embrace her before being summoned by Claire, who heaped yet more praise upon her.

Child of Athena's rival be damned, Percy already seemed like part of the family. A permanent fixture in all their lives. Catching his classic doe-eyed expression fix on Annabeth, Malcolm figured that maybe Percy could be officially—not that he wasn't, but… maybe under the law….

Making his way to him, he told Percy quietly, "I think she actually wants you to ask her at some point," Malcolm told him quietly.

Percy huffed air from his nose. "This again?" he said. "Malcolm, me asking her isn't going to change anything."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do," Percy said. "It might even offend her."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm willing to bet a hundred bucks that you're wrong."

Percy went silent, his sea green eyes entirely unreadable. "Will you really?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Percy surveyed Annabeth. "You're gonna be so mad at yourself," he said quietly. "I'll prove you wrong. Then I'll get to say 'I told you so' and collect my winnings." Before Malcolm could argue back, Percy carried his voice across the room: "Hey, Annabeth?"

Oh, dear gods.

He wasn't seriously— Why did he—? Curse the spontaneity of Poseidon's children.

Annabeth's head swiveled in her boyfriend's direction, and without missing a beat, Percy asked, "Can I marry you?"

His words caught the attention of the entire cabin. As shocked as she looked, Annabeth's lips curved into a smile, much to Malcolm's relief.

See?

"Malcolm thinks that if I try to ask you again, you'll change your mind," Percy explained. "So I just wanted to check. Can I marry you?"

Her eyes flitted confusedly to her brother's before she faced her boyfriend. "Yeah," said Annabeth. "Yeah, you can."

Bingo! Malcolm's smile morphed into a broad, cheek-aching grin.

There was a collection of shocked gasps and squeals as the witnesses clutched onto each other's limbs. "Oh my gods! Did he just—? Did she just—? Did they just—?"

"See?" Percy told Malcolm. "Nothing's changed, so you owe us a hundred bucks."

Malcolm's brows furrowed. "But Annabeth just said—"

The gears in his brain were turning. Come to think of it, what played out actually didn't square with what Annabeth and Percy had told him. 'It's not something we're going to do.' 'Nothing's changed.'

Malcolm closed his eyes. O theoi. Athena forgive me. "You were already engaged."

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Percy said.

Amidst the chorus of gobsmacked what?s that erupted, Malcolm cursed himself.

"So disappointing, man," Percy said. "I mean, you literally had to have it spelled out for you."

"Just get over here," Malcolm said. With elation that far overpowered his internal groaning, Malcolm pulled Percy into a congratulatory hug until it was Rhode's turn to smother her brother.

"I can't believe you kept this from me!" she exclaimed.

Percy just laughed.

Once Annabeth finally escaped their siblings' hounding, she wrapped her arms around an ever so patient Percy's neck and pecked his lips. (There really wasn't much they could do in Cabin Six.)

"I just won you a hundred bucks from Malcolm," Percy told her. "And I'd give you the ring officially, but I know you already stole it from the cabin. You thief."

"Is it really considered thievery if it's mine?" Annabeth said. As she laughed, she pulled a ring out from a long necklace she wore under her shirt and held it out to Percy.

Siblings crowded around as the honors were done, both by him and her. Because, of course, Annabeth had her own ring to exchange—one she'd stored in a locked utilitarian box in her drawer in the cabin library.

It'd been there all along, Malcolm thought. It could've probably even been there when he'd had that talk with her.

"When did you get engaged?" Malcolm asked.

"It was … a while ago," Percy admitted.

Annabeth took his hand. "You do remember, right?" she teased.

Percy rolled his eyes and gave her a look as if to say, Are you serious? "Your birthday," he said.

"Her birthday?" Rhode said. "Aww! That's so sweet!"

But...

"Wait. You mean her birthday that's two days from now?" Conrad asked.

"Fun fact: July 12th isn't exclusive to this year," said Percy.

He had to be kidding.

"You've been engaged for a year?" Sophie asked.

"And you didn't tell anyone?" Zeke said.

"You know," said Annabeth, "July 12th isn't exclusive to this year or the last."

Their jaws dropped in unison. "You're shitting me," Malcolm said.

"Language," Annabeth said. "There are kids present."

Malcolm's other siblings weren't having it either. "What in Hades? You asked Annabeth to marry you two years ago?" Conrad said.

"And she said yes?" Claire asked.

Hold on. Malcolm wasn't following anymore. Hadn't Annabeth not allowed Percy to propose?

"No," said Percy. "Two years ago, Annabeth asked me to marry her, and I said yes. I was going to ask, but she just had to rudely" —he mock-glared at her as she smirked at him—"interrupt me and propose to me herself."

"Two years ago? " said Claire, looking almost betrayed. "That's insane! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Okay, we were only twenty-one and twenty," Annabeth said. "It was obviously going to happen anyway, so it didn't actually matter how young we were. But we didn't want everyone to be all weird about it, so we just kept it between us."

Makes sense.

"I'm sure Athena and Poseidon knew," said Percy.

"Oh whoa, whoa! Did you ask for her permission? I would have paid to see that," said Zeke.

"I didn't ask for her permission," Percy said. Then even more strainedly, he added, "I just asked her not to kill me when I'd eventually ask."

Snorts and restrained giggles abounded from everyone but Rhode at the image of their stern mother impatiently staring down a stuttering Percy.

"You're all laughing now, but it really wasn't funny then," Percy said.

Oh, Percy. Precious Percy.

Gods, Malcolm couldn't rein in his grin.

This was a moment he decided to commit to memory—with Alicia chattering cheerily, Zeke gaping and giggling intermittently, Sophie laughing louder than she'd typically let herself, Conrad lazing among them, and Claire emitting her rare squeals. Malcolm's own state was reflected off Princess Rhode, whose expression didn't indicate surprise or glee as much as a happy solace. Maybe that was what came with the job as an older sibling to demigods.

And, of course, there was Annabeth and Percy, ever more loving and loved. Sharing grins as Percy kissed her temple, they looked like they were privy to secrets between only them. It was something Malcolm had envied at one point and another, but she deserved her secrets with him. They deserved their bubble, their tower, of just them. And after all the hell they'd been through—the figurative hells, the actual hell, the literally-worse-than-hell hell, and the post-hell hell—they deserved their happily ever after. On and off the battlefield, Annabeth and Percy made a great team. There was honestly nothing that would come between them, and even as an unromantic cynic, Malcolm believed that.

And you know what? Malcolm was only happy to part with a hundred bucks. Heck, he'd throw in a nice engagement gift, too.

Parting momentarily from her fiancée, Annabeth faced Malcolm with shining eyes and he enveloped her in another tight hug.

"Congratulations," he said. "I—" He couldn't find the words. Could he even talk with a smile so wide?

His sister's joy burst into laughter as she reciprocated her brother's embrace.

"I'm so happy for you," Malcolm said. A glance at Percy reminded him what this meant for her. "Another something permanent," he whispered in her ear.

Annabeth's head bobbed a smidge. Her breath had a shudder about it. "Kópros. Don't make me cry, Malcolm."

Her body rocked at its foundations as she gripped him tighter. And when she looked at him—bit lip constraining her smile, brows twitched ever so slightly, radiant gray eyes unusually soft—Malcolm could sense it off her: excitement… relief… and gratitude.

Yeah, Malcolm told her. Yeah, Annabeth. Anytime.

"Oh! You know what this means?" Zeke bellowed with the cabin's trademark bright eyes that threatened to release a mental barrage.

"What?"

"We have a wedding to plan!"