A/N: Merry Christmas! :D Don't worry, I didn't write this today. I had just finished it a few days ago, but I was taking forever to reply to reviews XP
Disclaimer: All rights remain. The "poem" comes from Ruelle - Where We Come Alive. Twas the Shadowhunter's two-hour finale last song.
Percy
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Percy felt stupid talking to an unconscious Nico, but the nurse had said that they really didn't know whether Nico could hear anything in his comatose state, so he could try talking to him if he'd like. Perhaps it would coax di Angelo out of his position faster, or maybe it wouldn't do anything at all, but it was worth a shot. Besides, with all the craziness and loneliness his life had delved into, Percy found a strange comfort in something, or rather someone, steady he'd known for so long.
The Calbournes had never really been deep-rooted friends with the Pevanshires like the Ashingtons, favoring the Rayas instead, but there was something about Nico that had always kept them close ever since he himself had been five, Nico three, and the little Pevanshire had possessed the audacity to walk up to him in his small, dark button-up and tell him he was throwing the knives all wrong.
Percy half-smiled at the now bittersweet memory. There were dark circles under Nico's eyes and a cool washcloth on his forehead, but all Percy could concentrate on was how gaunt and pale his face had become through the years, a stark contrast from the healthy olive tone he'd had when he was younger, and how it appeared that even in a coma, Nico was tensing his jaw.
"I know your secret, Ghost King," Percy whispered, watching him intently, even though he fully well knew that Nico wouldn't be awakening any time soon. "I know you're a worrier even if you like to pretend nothing touches you up there." He hesitated. "Must be lonely to be by yourself on that pedestal. I know how it feels," he softly added, sympathetic.
Percy slumped in his seat, bone-weary. The imprisonment of Annabeth had taken everything from him.
"You're like a little brother to me too with Luke, you know? Malcolm was older than me, so I never felt that with him. Besides, those Ashingtons are scary, aren't they? But you, you kept to yourself, and I sort of respected that. It was much better than my step-mother with her cruel tricks and nosy attitude. And Sally always liked you, and she's never been wrong about anyone in my entire life," he murmured gently.
Percy's hand reached out and as if on its own, affectionately brushed Nico's long, dark hair out of his eyes. His face felt cold, but then again, Nico always seemed cold these days.
Percy regretted not talking to him more. He'd been so caught up in Amazon issues, watching his half-brother's decisions on the news like a hawk, and stressing over pointless things that he'd entirely forgotten to check in with Nico, to cherish his old friends he hadn't seen in so long.
"Will's really worried about you, did you know? They had to forcefully send him out of your room out of fear that he would break your hand from his own worrying. I haven't seen him in days, but I think I'll check on him later since you can't. For you," Percy promised.
"I'm worried about you too," the dark-haired man confessed. "He beat you real bad. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. And Will, I never realized you'd made such a loyal friend. You've always been so antisocial… I'm proud of you. I heard you'd said some crap about three men before you conked out. That was pretty brave, Neeks. I always knew you were a good fighter, but you held your own for so long, and they found the bodies in the graveyard of the two men, which is just… I know you'd love the irony. You killed them good, kid. Just wish I could've helped you. We'd have been unstoppable. I wish you hadn't gone off alone because I want you to know that you never have to face anything alone."
Percy let out a sigh of resignation. "I know it's been hard, kiddo. It's been hard on me too." He'd subconsciously taken Nico's hand in his own. "I miss my mom more than anything else, but I know I can't go running back to her and drag her killer back to her. I want to see this mysterious sister of mine before she thinks of me as a deadbeat or something, but I can't. I miss my father, too. Weird, isn't it?" He chuckled humorlessly.
"I always thought I hated him a little—and I still do—but I loved him a lot more. He was there for me when my mom left, you know? So was Silena, but that's different. It's different when it's your family friend, and when it's actually your blood. I can't ever… I can't ever forget that moment, Nico. It haunts me every day, knowing that it's his blood on my hands. I killed my own father, Nico, and I honestly… I don't know how to deal with it. And I don't understand how you left your family behind so easily. Hades is a good man and I know, deep down, you love him like how I love my father. Persephone's hilarious, and she's nice under all that craziness. Speaking of which, whatever happened with Lady Kane? I heard you fled before you were married. I'm glad. You're too young to have to deal with that shit."
Percy could already imagine Nico reaching over and smacking him on the head for subtly calling him young and small. "You've got a lot of fight in that small body," Percy amended, pretending that Nico had called him out for his bullshit.
"Anyone else caught your eye here at the base? I know you're friends with Will and Reyna, though I don't think she likes me very much, with good reason of course, but there's plenty of nice people here, so I thought maybe your new branching out into the social scene would've landed you with a new interest."
In his head, Nico was rolling his eyes, snarkily replying that everyone here sucked, and that he sucked too.
"Nico, do me a favor. Wake up real soon, okay? Your friends needs you, and I miss you a hell of a lot more than I ever got to tell you. Alright?" Nico obviously didn't reply. Percy rubbed his temples with growing frustration and unhappiness.
He knew nobody was listening, giving the two of them privacy in Nico's little infirmary room, but Percy still shied away from expressing his feelings so blatantly. He had been raised to be different, just like Nico. What were feelings, anyways?
Percy reluctantly pulled his hand away, feeling more alone than ever. Solidarity had once been his best friend, but this was a fresh layer he had never intended to dive so deep into, and what had once comforted him tortured him beyond anything he'd ever known.
"I'll be back in a few hours," Percy promised. He would guard Nico with his life now. "Don't go anywhere," he half-heartedly mused, his expression turning dark as he stood up. Soon you'll get better, Percy thought to himself, assuring himself more than anyone else. Because you have to. "I'm going to go talk to Reyna. I have a promise to follow through with."
Yes… Annabeth… he didn't even know if she was still alive. He would make it so.
Folding his hands behind his back politely, just like a true royal with manners ingrained in his very blood cells, he stepped out of Nico's chamber, softly shutting the door behind him and sealing in Nico and their shared memories in that depressing room for one.
Annabeth
Octavian had locked her back up again, partially because now that he'd used her enough, he wouldn't be needing her until he ran into his next road block in his quest to dominate life and death itself, and also because she had completely shut down.
What he didn't know was that his white torture didn't even hold a candle to the knowledge that Nico was dead. Annabeth had broken down so many times in the past few days that she'd lost count, lost in her mourning. Her hope had already been small locked in here, but now whatever had been left of that spark had diminished entirely, vanishing into thin air.
For some reason, Annabeth found herself thinking back to Luke. The Boy King was messed up, there was no denying it, but Octavian was just… cruel. Tears pricked at her eyes, even when she'd thought she had run out of tears to cry. For a moment, she even imagined being Luke's possession instead of Octavian's. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Would she really have chosen to be enslaved by the Calbourne lite instead of the maniacal Langen? The answer, she knew deep down, was a resounding yes.
At least Luke never made her feel worthless. Stupid? Yes. Broken? Of course. A little like a monster, a little too much like him? Disturbingly yes. But never worthless, never like a child. He was the lesser of the two evils, as surprising as it seemed. Octavian had taken so much from her, including Jason and Nico—two of her favorite people in the entire world.
At least when Luke had kissed her so long ago, when they'd both been little, when Medusa had been whispering in his ear unbeknownst to her, he had meant it, at least a little.
Annabeth began to feel queasy, a bit like nauseated like she could throw up then. She was treading into dangerous territory, remembering Luke here on her own without Percy to keep her head screwed on straight.
The blonde buried her face in her hands, mimicking the position she'd curled into at the initial news of Nico's demise. One step at a time, Chase. One breath at a time. She inhaled, then exhaled, then repeated again and again and again and again and again until the anxiety began to ease. And then she did so some more, coaching herself through the deterioration of the tidbits left of her sanity.
…
"How's my favorite Princess doing?" the familiar voice crooned, entering the room with swift ease.
He looked too happy and Annabeth's stomach started folding in on itself immediately. She hoped he hadn't killed anyone else recently. She didn't even have it in her to glare at him. She laid, limply dangling with the chains, like a fluid heap of mistakes personified.
"No answer? That's new. Usually you have an excellent verbal joust with me on the daily. You feeling a little sick?" Octavian clicked his tongue, feigning sympathy.
Annabeth dug the heels of her palms into the backs of her eyes until she saw stars.
"You should be grateful I haven't robbed you of your memories yet," Octavian tortured.
Annabeth groaned, resisting the urge to plug her ears. Even listening to his voice was driving her mad. How ironic. The one time she wished for utter silence in a silent hospital Octavian wouldn't permit her peace. Of course he wouldn't.
"You only preserve them to make me remember for all of eternity what I've been stolen from." Her voice was hoarser than she remembered, and she mildly realized it was probably a direct result of her seemingly endless stream of tears. She was parched, too, desperately lacking the fluids she'd lost in the amount of times she'd thrown up.
"My smart cookie," Octavian gleefully exclaimed. "So smart that you solved immortality."
His blows couldn't hit her anymore.
"Are you finally satisfied?" she asked, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Have you found your peace as the master of the universe? Is it enough?"
Octavian laughed at her, but she was too fatigued to burn with humiliation or spit back with the fire in her soul. It had long been extinguished.
"For you, it'll never be enough," she whispered, sorrowful. "Close, but no cigar. Your hands could hold the world, but it'll never be enough."
"Spare me your philosophies, please, Princess." Octavian rolled his eyes. "I have a request for you."
"A request or a demand?" she asked no one in particular. Octavian ignored her.
"Be my Queen."
"A demand, then," Annabeth answered her own question, and then she froze when her brain actually processed what he'd said. "Excuse me?" Just when she thought he couldn't surprise her anymore, he did.
"You heard me."
Annabeth gaped at him. She was just his bait. His bait for Percy and the Amazons and anyone else of status he could capture. He, then, with whoever he was engaged to would bargain with Luke or another family because the Boy King, the royals, they would do anything to have Percy or her in their possession. He wanted her hand in marriage to tear the Amazons apart, to be celebrated.
Octavian, Annabeth had realized a while back, was as easy to read as an open book when it came to his motives. An amateur destined to fail like any other.
"No."
"Excuse me?" Octavian echoed. "I don't think you understand. I'm about to become the most powerful man in the world with the FoxO gene, and I'm offering you, a forgotten, downtrodden ex-Princess a chance to be on top of the world with me instead of on the bottom."
"I said no," she repeated. This time she wasn't tempted. Even she had her limits, and Octavian had crossed the line a long time ago.
"You realize you're virtually worthless to me now? You've solved my issue. I could sell you off, but maybe I'll execute you, just for the fun of it. You'll want to take my offer."
"Your demand," Annabeth corrected again.
"Is this because of those two boys I hurt? Really, Ashington, you're going to have to let that go."
"You murdered Nico and Jason, and besides, I'd rather die."
"Still haven't broken, I see," Octavian commented.
She offered a tired, yet wry smile. "I did say you'd never break me."
"Indeed you did." Octavian looked thoughtful. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm even considering marrying you in all your low status?"
"No," she disclosed. "I already know. I know you like the back of my hand, though I wish I didn't."
"Huh." Octavian mulled over her statement. "Well, then I've decided. Steel yourself for a public execution a week from now."
"You're waiting a week? For what? Dramatic build-up?" She shook her head, resigned to even trying with him.
"I'm a very busy man," was all he said. He paused like he was waiting for her to change her mind, but she didn't.
"I'm sure you are," she told him what he wanted to hear. "I'll see you a week from now, then." She had never thought she'd be so cool under this pressure. She was set to die soon, and still she couldn't find it within her to feel fear, to allow him to ruffle her feathers.
"You're making a mistake," Octavian warned. "I'll give you one last chance." There was silence, and Annabeth just stared blankly at him.
"No, I don't think I am." She was sure this time, and it was so freeing to know that at least her last decision would be the right one. "You may go."
Octavian's ears flushed red. "You do not dismiss me. You are my property."
She shrugged. "Okay."
Cussing, Octavian left the room, and Annabeth folded into herself, replaying every beautiful moment in her life, starting with her older brother, all through Nico, all up until the moment she'd last touched Percy's hand before the doors shut, sealing her in with her inevitable fate.
It would be a long week, the longest of her life, but she could wait. If there was one thing that imprisonment had taught her, it was patience.
If the gods were real like Octavian thought, she was sure now that they were smiling down on her, that she was making them proud. Annabeth leaned back against the cold wall behind her and blocking out the lights, she allowed herself to let down her guard, drifting off to sleep for the first time in at least a week.
The lights couldn't bother her if she'd learned to shut them out, the voices couldn't nag her now that she'd become a master at quieting the screams in her head, the world couldn't touch her if she didn't care, and she had never cared less than she did now.
Percy had been right all along: she had been selfish, she'd grown from it, and she'd found her place in the oddest of circumstances. She had learned to accept death with open arms if it was for the right cause. Nobody said it was easy, but like all things that were worth something, it took time.
And after all, death was only the end of the story if you assumed the story was about you.
Piper
"You're not going alone," Piper declared, startling Percy.
"I beg your pardon?" He frowned at her.
Her fists balled up at her sides. "I know you're going after her. Take me with you," she pleaded.
Percy hesitated. "I—I can't. Reyna only approved five people. We can't afford to lose a large number for a rescue mission, according to her."
Piper visibly deflated. She was tired of hiding and feeling useless. Sure, she could talk, but that wasn't the only thing she was useful for. "Who all is going?"
Percy shrugged. "Me, obviously. Frank, Leo—the only other pilot besides myself, Kayla Knowles, and someone else I don't know. General Reyna's sister Hylla's new lieutenant, I believe. I've never met her before." Zoe had died long ago in his own cage.
"Not Thalia?" Piper wasn't surprised. "Someone needs to talk some sense into her. Those two have got to put their differences aside because right now we're all on the same side."
Percy shook his head. "I agree she's being unreasonably stubborn, but she's not in the wrong for once. What Annabeth said… she never even apologized. I won't blame Thalia for her anger." Thalia and Annabeth's argument had seemed so long ago.
"So?" Piper insisted. "Annabeth's going to die if somebody doesn't save her soon. Would she really hold her anger closer to her than a comrade's life?"
Percy deflated, and Piper immediately felt bad for grilling him. He must've been under a lot of stress lately. He didn't need this shit from her. "Apparently so."
Piper's mouth twisted down. "Tell Reyna that Frank's relieved of his duties. I got this."
"Piper?" His dark eyebrows knit together. "Are you sure?"
"Let's go, Prince. It's been you and me since the very beginning." Piper knew with a certainty that their fates had been tied since Aphrodite and Poseidon befriended each other as children. "It's only fitting that I'm there with you at what Octavian plans to be her end. Besides, she's my friend too."
"Still?" he inquired. Together, they walked across the green. Percy whispered something in Frank's ear that she didn't hear, but he slumped with relief. He had a girl here, Hazel, who would've been worrying over him. He was a peace activist; there was no need to force him into battle when Piper was equally capable.
"Of course still," Piper indignantly commented. She shot him a dirty look as they boarded the small jet. Leo was making preparations for later; they would leave tomorrow morning. Piper stocked weapons, careful not to injure herself.
"I'm just asking," he defended himself. "I thought after what happened with Grace, you'd have taken Thalia's side."
Piper's heart throbbed at the mention of Jason. "No," she refuted. "Thalia's out of her mind, and yes, I love her to death, but Annabeth doesn't deserve the fiery pits of hell. Maybe a slap upside the head, but not eternal damnation."
She studied Percy carefully. He was listening, though not looking at her. Percy had lines around her face from a lifetime of stress and worries, the toll his rank had taken on him as a former soon-to-be King with a psychopathic little brother on the loose. He must've felt responsible for so many mistakes, including Luke's dark path. And she'd heard of Nico too, beholden to an infirmary bed. There were dark circles under the Calbourne's eyes.
"Perseus?"
"Percy," he corrected out of habit.
"Okay," she agreed. "Percy?"
"Mhmm?" He was staring at some charts on a clipboard, his eyes glazing over with exhaustion.
"When did you last sleep?"
Now he looked up at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "Is it that bad?" He offered a half-smile, but she could see right through it.
"Pretty much." If she looked at him in the right light, Piper could see what Annabeth saw. Honestly, anyone could. Now all she saw was how he'd paled over time, how fragile he seemed like a baby bird shivering in the rain.
"That's a damn shame." He stared back at the paper.
"I think you should go take a nap. You'll need your strength tomorrow," Piper advised.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "A nap? I'm not three, McLean."
She shook her head. "I'm serious, Percy."
"Me too. I've got so much work to do before we can leave tomorrow." He gestured to the ship they were on.
"I can do it. What's left? Check the hardware and engines? Leo's got that." She pointed to the Latino boy, engrossed in the pilot's seat with the control panel. "Pack supplies and write out a plan? I can pack stuff; that's not hard. And I'm not a genius, but I'm sure between the two of us, Hylla's lieutenant and I can sort out a plan. Kayla will grab all the medicine and first aid she needs. We can do this just fine, Percy. Go." She practically wrenched the clipboard out of his hand.
"But—but I want to make sure," he protested.
"Percy," she stressed.
"Fine!" He carded his fingers through his hair. "I hate this," he admitted.
"I know," Piper acknowledged. "But I think this'll be good for you."
"Call me if you need anything," he added as she practically shoved him out of the flying vehicle.
"I won't need anything," she assured him once he was outside.
"Are you sure—"
"Percy!"
"Jesus, woman, I'm going! God, you're like my mother." Percy froze in his retreat, his shoulders tensing at the mention of his mother. Piper had never heard him talk of her. Sally, the dead Queen.
"Hey," she began, reaching out to comfort him, but he brushed off her fingers.
"Don't," he gritted out, folding into himself. He wasn't angry at her, only himself, she knew, but it didn't make it hurt any less. But this wasn't about her.
"Sorry."
Percy sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. "You don't need to apologize," he promised, stalking off to his cabin to sleep or obsess over details of Sally, she didn't know anymore. Piper watched him go, sympathy overtaking her. Once he'd disappeared from her view, she sprung into action, following Percy's checklist dutifully.
Will
There was a gentle rapping against his door. Will flinched, staring down at the cold, still full to the brim coffee cup in front of him. A thin film of milk had formed on the surface, and all he could think about was how Nico constantly complained about it. Will shivered at the memory, so vivid yet so far away, and stood up, opening the door like a zombie, like a routine he had grown eternally tired of.
He swung open the creaky door to reveal a tall, lean, dark-haired man with unique sea-green eyes that stood out in a crowd, one in a million. His first startling that had been that it was Nico—the dark hair had set him off—but the eyes had jolted him out of his little daydream. Of course it had been too good to be true.
"Your Highness," Will managed to choke out. Even in his sorriest of states, Will never forgot his manners.
Percy shrugged awkwardly. "You don't have to call me that."
Will stared at him blankly. "It's what I call Princess Ashington, still, and Princess Raya too."
"Not Nico?" Percy inquired softly.
"No," Will agreed.
"I'm glad he met you," Percy acknowledged after a moment.
Will leaned against the doorframe, unsure of how much Nico had told Percy, and even more unsure of where his relationship with Nico lay anyways, especially after their small falling-out. "Me too," was all he said, choosing to preserve Nico's secret just to be on the safer side. "Where are my manners?" Will realized, suddenly remembering that Percy was just dawdling on his doorstep. "Come in, Your Highness, please." He moved to the side, gesturing for the older man to enter.
Percy cringed at what Will assumed was the title, but cautiously entered nonetheless. Will grimaced as he shut the door, all his muscles aching.
"What brings you here, Sir?" He motioned for Percy to take a seat. "Coffee?" Will offered, recoiling at the stale coffee left out on the counter. Percy was staring at it like it explained a lot, which Will, of course, knew that it was a direct reflection of his mental state. His mouth twisted down. "Tea? Water?"
"No, thank you," Percy declined, and Will took in his demeanor cautiously. It had been a long time since he'd interacted with a royal who, well, actually acted like a royal around him.
He wasn't friends with Annabeth—that was Nico's acquaintance—nor Piper, who even Nico didn't really speak with, and he'd never spoken to Percy in his entire life. Percy was much more formal with him, and vice versa. It was strange to see someone so posh after a lifetime of serving people like him.
Percy sat like a true Victorian gentleman, his feet flat on the floor and his spine straight like a stiff, wooden ruler. Will blinked.
"Please excuse our abode. I hadn't known you were coming, or I surely would have cleaned this mess up, Sir," the healer profusely apologized.
Percy shook his head. "No, and I am most apologetic if I have imposed." Then he froze. "Our?" he repeated, confused.
Will froze, mentally cursing himself. It was Nico's and his cabin. "Some other young men share with me," he covered up. Percy relaxed in understanding.
"I see."
It dwindled into an awkward silence, but Will dared not interrupt it.
"I came to see how you were faring," Percy explained after a moment. "I understand you are a close friend of Nico's, and I have no doubt that this must be extremely difficult for you." So, Nico hadn't said anything, Will realized. He was relieved he hadn't messed that up.
"Yes," Will affirmed. "General Reyna, too, I'm sure."
"Yes," Percy concurred.
Will licked his dry lips, the silence falling over them again. He stared at his feet.
"Look," Percy interrupted. "Can I just—can we just be truthful?" he earnestly requested.
"Of course," Will granted, unsure of where this was heading.
"I want to know what's going on with Nico's medical state. I want to know how you are feeling, if you need any help, if I can make myself useful by helping you because I owe it to Nico to look out for you when he cannot. I want to know when he's going to wake up because he's… he's like you, he's young, he doesn't deserve this, and I've known this kid for so long that I cannot bear to be left in the dark like this. I understand it's confidential information to all the nurses, but I cannot stand it, as I'm sure you understand," Percy revealed, tapping his finger against his knee.
Will's mouth parted in surprise at his raw honesty. The blond hunched over in his seat, sagging against the fabric, utterly and completely drained. "Honestly, I would love to tell you, but the nurses refuse to impart knowledge upon me either. I can only make my own educated guesses."
Percy deflated with visible disappointment. "I see."
"But from what I saw, it looks like that son of a bitch, excuse my language, he has a severe concussion, which sent him into this dreaded coma." Will was very aware of his trembling voice, but if Percy noticed—which he really couldn't have not—he was too polite to say anything. Will was grateful. "To make it simple, the brain has nerve axons that send electrical signals from the cell body to other neurons. In a concussion, the axons swell up like little beads. When the brain swells from the trauma, the fluid pushes up against the skull, and the swelling eventually caused, in this case, the brain to push down on the brain stem, damaging the reticular activating system—a part of the brain that is responsible for arousal and awareness."
Percy blinked.
"His physical injuries should heal nicely—we gave him a special dried plant for that, but it's the brain trauma that has me worried. If he doesn't wake in two to three weeks…" Will trailed off, unable to bear even entertaining the possibility that Nico would never wake up, thus entering a vegetative state. What would Will do then? Probably die from heartbreak.
It sounded dramatic, but Will could hardly remember a free life like this before Nico, and besides, the funny Shakespeare Nico had always read to him at night had plenty of men dying from broken hearts and women fainting from shock. It was most entertaining. Now, it was tainted with a sad, lingering cloud.
"So, you're saying that he has two to three weeks to wake up?" Percy clarified.
Will slouched further, unable to help himself. He yawned against his own will. His own body couldn't support him anymore from sleep deprivation and excessive worrying. "I'm saying he has at most two to three weeks."
Percy fell silent, his face gaunt at this angle in the sunlight streaming through the nearby window. "Why haven't you visited him?" he voiced finally, and it seemed like Percy was letting something out that he'd intended to ask for a while.
Will couldn't even find the strength to be insulted by what very much seemed like was Percy's lack of faith in him. But then again, Percy didn't truly understand the depth of his and Nico's relationship.
"Simple. Healer Knowles banned me."
Perseus could not disguise his surprise. "She what? Why?" His shoulders tensed.
"I can't be in that room, according to her, without freaking out, and after my less than graceful meltdown when Nico was first wheeled into the infirmary, she's afraid that I'll stress him out, making it harder for him to leave the coma." Will shrugged, dejected.
Percy's face twisted into a scowl. "That's bullshit."
Will sat up straighter then, startled at the vulgar language.
"Nico will wake up faster when he's around those who care about him. Reyna dutifully visits him, which I'm sure helps. I do too, though I doubt that has much of an effect. But you, you could help him a lot. I'll talk to her."
"Don't bother," Will tried to reason with him. "Kayla's a tough cookie, and she's probably right anyways. I just want what's best for him, and if that means I can't see them… then so be it," Will accepted. Nico's health always came first.
"I can make her change her mind," Percy assured him, standing up. He seemed so much more alive than he had when he'd first showed up on his doorstep. Will was filled with an unreasonable jealousy. He was sure, like him, Percy felt better in these situations when he felt useful. Unfortunately for Will, he'd pretty much been restricted from helping for anything by Kayla, and he was ordered to simply 'relax.' Were they all insane? How could he possibly relax with Nico dying a little more every second that passed?
"If you really think so," Will permitted, shrugging his small shoulders. "Thank you."
"Trust me, this is for me just as much as it is for you," Percy reminded him, elegantly standing to his feet and stepping out of Will's humble abode. "I know it is difficult, but perhaps you should consider getting some sleep. I have found that watching the broadcasting systems for a long period of time often wears me out enough to get a few hours of sleep. Maybe that will work for you too," he suggested.
Will felt warmth seep into his skin at Percy's attempt to help. "Thank you," Will sincerely accepted, blinking back lame tears. There was nothing to even cry over, but Percy's compassion and simply talking to someone who understood, it really did help.
Percy just nodded, probably not accustomed to being thanked—he had just always done as he'd been told his entire life, no questions asked, like a true royal—and looking both ways, left Will behind in his own home.
Annabeth
She jerked awake, squinting into the blinding lights. What had woken her… oh.
Annabeth stared at the unlocked door across from her. In the doorway was an unnamed guard, their face concealed by Octavian's armory.
"Yes?" she asked, expectantly.
He just stared, his face impassive.
"Oh," she realized, unable to fight the dread coiling in the depths of her stomach. Her cold fingers found their way to her neck, as if her body wanted to subconsciously protect her. She hadn't realized it'd already been a week. Time passed differently here when she had no way to keep track. You're making the right decision, she imagined Malcolm saying in her head.
The guard jostled her, keeping her hands and feet bound with the biting metal. "Don't even think about running," he growled, his voice gruff.
Annabeth rolled her eyes. "If I'd wanted to, I already would've," she snapped. Death often made been more irritable. Holding a sword to her back, the main guard led her outside where two more guards were waiting. Together, the three of them escorted her to her public execution.
…
"How of you to finally join us," Octavian crooned.
Her head swiveled, a few stray blonde curls framing her face and irritatingly falling into her face. Carefully, she inspected the rows of men around her, her chin tilted up angrily, her large, intelligent, grey eyes fierce, clouding up with rage.
The men were all dressed as they usually were, adorned head to toe in silky, expensive clothes, beards neatly trimmed for the older men, and cleanly shaven faces for the younger boys. They were decked in infuriating amounts of jewels and precious metals, some faces smug, others indifferent, many simply surprised. The heroine was sprawled on the floor, brought to her knees, wrists locked together with a shiny silver pair of cuffs, digging into her flesh that was bleeding from her obvious resistance. Four guards surrounded her, trapping her into the little dirty space on the ground, kneeling to the haughty man in the golden throne, seated in front of her- no, seated above her. She spat, her saliva littering the spotless floor in front of the clear ruler's feet.
Annabeth did not close her eyes, seemingly unafraid by the whole ordeal. Instead, her fury-filled glare locked on him with such disdain, it wasn't hard to believe that she could've easily been the one seated above him. Most would not notice, but his sneer was forced and for a moment, just a moment, his fear of her peeked through his expertly wielded facade. But two could play at the game. Did they think she wasn't dreading the moment the sharp, silver sword came down on her neck, successfully ending her life? Of course not; she was only human, after all. But she was filled with the determination to stare him down, frightening him up until the moment she was gone, and hopefully her face would haunt him long after she was gone. He clearly wanted to look away, that much was obvious, but she did not flinch, eyes trained on his face as her own expression hardened.
The scrape of the blade made her ache inside, practically feeling the pain before it all came crashing down on her. She could almost hear what they were all thinking, mistaking her for yet another ditsy little girl, stupid and careless. Had she possessed enough fight left in her, had she been elsewhere and not on death row, she would have curled her lips back, handing their asses to them, giving them whiplash with the sheer power of her words and intelligence. A dumb blonde? She was anything but. If only they knew. She suspected they very well knew, choosing not to acknowledge her power and place, only turning their heads away instead. Cowards: they were spineless beasts and nothing could ever make her believe otherwise.
The man on the throne wiggled two of his fingers, motioning for the executioners to come forward. She only raised her head to the sky, defiant as ever. The tigress inside her refused to bow, even at the last moment of her life. She nearly bit the guard near her when he tried to make way for the executioner. The man—no—the boy on the throne couldn't help but grin terrifyingly.
"Wait," Octavian finally spoke. "Let me have one moment."
She practically scoffed. For what? To mournfully say goodbye?
He came close to her, too close in her opinion, his breath hot on her face. Annabeth considered spitting on the trash in front of her.
"You still have a chance to reconsider," he offered coldly, and for a second, her gut betrayed her, almost wanting to nod. She had spent her whole life like this, saving herself each and every moment, but her brain snapped her out of it. She did not reply, refusing him the satisfaction of getting anything out of her. Not a shake of the head, not an affirming nod. Nothing.
Octavian leaned to her face, lips brushing against her ear, and she resisted the urge to flinch back in revulsion.
"You stupid, stupid little girl. And to think, I'd asked you to be my Queen," he hissed, chilling her to the bone. He was unnaturally pale, smirking down at her with sickening pleasure to see her so chained up by his own will. "Kill her."
She glared at him hard, bracing herself for impact. She couldn't help herself, flinching in anticipation for the blade came down on her neck. It made her feel weak.
All of a sudden, a familiar voice echoed through the royal hall, not quite a yell, but a big enough voice that caused everyone to turn their attention away from her, drawn to his presence. He had once told her that she wasn't the center of the universe, no matter how much she tried, but she couldn't help but think that he was. People were drawn to his natural charisma, bold personality, and wit. How could the world not love him? How could they not feel his pull, these magnetic chains that bound them to him? Now his voice was dripping with utter disgust, audibly shaking with emotion, clearly reflecting that he was incensed beyond the limit.
"Don't you dare touch her," Percy warned, acrimony laced in every word. The clamor within the room fell dead silent.
All at once, she couldn't disguise the surprise that passed over her face. His demeanor was so calm yet dangerous, that she almost wanted to melt from relief, never more grateful for his presence. She almost wanted to cry, but when he nodded at her subtly, all the fight that had been quickly been waning surged through her, giving her the rush of a century. They were in this together and they would both be in danger if she did not pull herself together. She met his eyes instead of breaking into a heaping mess, and when his usually hard expression softened at the sight of her, his message was clear:
Give them hell.
Together, they unleashed.
…
"Shit! Shit, shit…" Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut.
"Breathe, Chase," Percy consoled her as he haphazardly cut through her chains. He was trying to avoid nicking her, but there was really nothing he could do to avoid it entirely. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he apologized to her the entire time, and finally he gave up, prying the metal apart with his hands.
"Fuck, Percy it hurts." She stared down at the blood running down her ankles.
His face hardened. "I know," he remorsefully acknowledged. "We have Kayla on board, and if we can just get you there, she'll fix you up, okay?" He tilted her chin up with his forefingers, and she felt like a little kid. For once, it was comforting to simply trust that he knew what he was doing.
"Okay," she agreed. She was mildly aware of Piper beheading someone on her right. It was fascinating, in a horrific sort of way.
"We're going to have to run out of here, okay? And I know that you're in pain, and you're so sick, so I'm going to do my best to help you while Piper and the others hold battle for you, but I've got to do something before we leave, so you're going to have to make it back by yourself for part of it. I can only take you to the gates, and then you've got to run to the plane. Kayla will be there waiting for you."
She wanted to curl up into him and give in, but she could do it. "Okay. What do you have to do?" she inquired, curious.
He scowled darkly, and Annabeth remembered all at once why he was so intimidating to others. His natural brooding expression gave her the shivers.
"I'm setting this prison aflame," he declared, not a hint of humor in his voice.
Percy
He threw another match against a wooden table. It roared to life, and Percy was very aware of Octavian yelling at someone to seize him behind him. It didn't matter. He was faster than them all, and he was determined to make it out.
Lightning the full stack on fire, Percy threw the explosives behind him, and then he took his final leap in faith, literally.
He jumped out of a window, and it was only midway that Percy began to wonder if it had been such a good idea after all.
He landed messily onto a smaller rooftop and continued to jump level by level on the stacks of tiling until he'd reached the bottom.
Percy crashed into the ground that was going up in flames and scrambling past the woods and rubble, he rolled out of the way as a tower cracked in half, toppling over and missing him by mere inches. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest.
…
In the chaos of it all, he hadn't gotten a good look at her. She was pale now and skinnier than he remembered. The delicate skin around her wrist had been torn over and over and over again, and he could see that it still burned red with blood. Percy's stomach lurched forward despite himself, and for a moment he felt he would be sick. Then he saw her face.
It had been so long, but he hadn't forgotten at all. There were still faint lines etched around her mouth from frowning and similar reflections around her eyes from smiling. Her hair was sticking up every which way, like always, except perhaps messier and thinner now, but deep down if he looked closely, he could see traces of the Annabeth he knew and loved.
She was staring up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted as if awestruck. He spoke before thinking.
"You didn't seriously think I wouldn't come back for you, did you?"
She froze in her stunned silence.
"Three weeks, four days, six hours, and about twelve minutes," he rattled off, his breathing shallow with fear.
"Over half a month," she realized, turning a ghostly white when the full understanding hit her. That was an awful long time. She leaned on his body for support, and he was frightened by how much less she weighed than the last time he'd seen her.
"You let me go," he whispered. "You touched my hand, apologized, and made me leave you." His voice was thick with unwanted emotions. He really could not afford to break down now, not when she needed him. He would not let her down again.
She shrugged tiredly. In all honesty, he was surprised she was still standing. "It was for the best." Her voice was raspier than he remembered, and he blamed it on dehydration.
"And you… you had the audacity to apologize for meaningless arguments when you were on the verge of death, Annabeth." No, he wasn't sad—he was fucking furious. After Piper dragged him onto that ship two weeks ago, he'd been beating himself up over it every waking moment, and even while asleep she haunted his dreams, but he'd never taken a second to pause and realize that she had pushed him away. "I could've saved you, but you didn't let me." His dark eyebrows furrowed together.
She stared at the ground. "I didn't need saving."
"Don't give me that. I'm standing here for a reason, so I really beg to differ."
"Not that kind, anyways," she quickly corrected. Her speech was halted, like she wasn't used to using her voice. Octavian must've shut her up. Percy flinched at the realization. "You're already saving me in more ways than you know."
"It's not enough," he pleaded. It would never be enough, not until she was far away from this hell, not until she was off in Asia or Europe or the Middle East or anywhere else but here, everywhere beautiful she'd ever wanted to go and happy.
"You're my rock," she quietly revealed, wincing as she smiled softly.
"Annabeth?"
The tears were pooling again. His heart constricted. "I can fight," she promised him. "But we both know I'm not so good at this." She gestured between the two of them. "With anyone," she added as an afterthought.
He went quiet. Something about this moment felt important, and he had a feeling that when he was on his deathbed or in his final moments, he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
"We build walls around our hearts and stash our souls in little boxes and wonder why nobody ever saves us," Annabeth admitted, and he felt that the hurricanes in her eyes were sucking him in. As the words finally sunk in, he was quietly horrified with the depth and pain behind her words. She closed her eyes as if she knew the weight of her words. "Thank you for coming for me."
She'd never thanked anyone for rescuing her; it just wasn't her style. She was self-sufficient, but she'd never realized that relying on others from time to time wasn't a weakness, but an indication of pure human nature.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he answered truthfully.
"What about Nico?" Her voice cracked on his name, and Percy frowned. How did she already know about his coma?
"Who told you about that?"
"So, it's true." Her face fell. "How?"
He looked at her strangely. "Someone lured him into the woods. We're not sure who yet."
"It was Octavian," she muttered. "He told me himself."
Percy's eyes widened. "Fuck. What would he even want with Nico? The Pevanshires are so unproblematic."
"And now I've killed both of them."
"Killed both… wait. I think we're talking about very different things." He frowned.
That jarred her. Her head snapped up to look at him. "Nico?" she echoed, hope flooding her expression. "Octavian said he killed him."
No wonder she looked like she was about to fall apart. "Annabeth," he began gently, not wanting to scar her with the shocking truth. "He's in a coma, but he's not dead."
Annabeth swayed slightly, and he steadied her with his hands immediately, not wanting her to faint from exhaustion or shock. "He's alive," she breathed, and tears leaked down her face. Relief, probably. "Oh my god, he's alive." She was definitely crying now.
"Annabeth?" His voice wavered with uncertainty. "Do you need to sit down?"
She shook her head, stubborn as ever. Her fingers curled into an iron grip around the fabric of his shirt. "He's alive," she repeated, a slow smile painting across her face. "I want to see him. Before all else. He's my responsibility, and I want to see him."
Percy nodded, overwhelmed by her emotions. "Of course. We'll go see him," he soothed her. "Let's get you cleaned up first, though. Nico would hardly want to see you in this state when there's some easy solutions." There would never be solutions for the long-lasting trauma, he knew, but he didn't say that part out loud. "Ready to go home?"
Annabeth turned around, watching carefully as the building crumbled before them, the flames eating the structure and burning it to the ground. Octavian could not possibly be dead yet. He had the most annoying tendency to survive all things thrown at him. Revenge would come later, but for now, Percy was satisfied to watch the Princess take in the scene before her. He could watch her forever.
"Annabeth?" he repeated, hiding a small smile. Of course she had already tuned him out, lost in her own world as always. He would've thought two weeks' worth of white isolation would've been more than enough, but no.
"This is where we come alive," she whispered so quietly, he had to strain to hear her. Puzzled by her cryptic words, he tried to redirect her attention.
"Chase? Home?" He gestured to the jet behind them.
A pillar collapsed onto itself, and dust and sparks flew up in harmony, sizzling horribly.
"I already am," she replied with a certainty, turning to look back at him.
"That's cheesy, especially for you."
She smiled then, a real smile that he felt he hadn't seen in months. Her eyes smiled with her mouth, and he knew she was true. Whenever they had spoken last, it was out of anger or desperation. It was a refreshing change.
"Home is where the heart is," she cautiously declared, eyeing him warily for his reaction.
"Maybe there's hope for you after all." He beamed down at her.
She offered a wry grin. "Let's go, Seaweed Brain. I've got a plan to hatch."
"Of course you do."
"Don't look so depressed. I'll shower first, obviously. Then we can go see Nico, that wonderful, stupid kid. I need to make sure the doctors are doing what they're supposed to. We're waking him up if it's the last thing I ever do." Only Annabeth would know more than the goddamn doctors. Percy shook his head to himself. He had forgotten what it was like to stand in her presence and be amazed with every piece of her, but he had not forgotten how to love her.
"And then when all is said and done, maybe I've got a moment to spare." Her eyes sparkled.
"Last time you said that, you ended up lecturing me about Greek mythology for forty-five minutes. I don't trust a word you say, Wise Girl." He gave her the stink eye.
She laughed, and they made their way to the jet, slowly but surely. Only then did he realize she'd been quoting an old Jirot poem. The memory of it burned onto a black banner outside Persephone's garden was engraved in his mind.
Out of the shadows and into the light, braving the unknown; this is where we come alive.
A/N: Did y'all like my parallel to The Lost Hero? Annabeth spouts off how long Percy's been missing (three days, six hours, and about twelve minutes), and this time it's him who's been keeping track.
In the reviews, a Guest asked a good question that I thought I'd just address with all of you. They asked how many chapters I'm going to have since my last multi-chapter story had 35, and I'm already only 22.
In all honesty, I really don't know anything for certain. With the last chapter, I planned out the outline down to what happens in every chapter, thus making it come out with a perfect 35. For this story, since there was so much planning involved in creating a new world, I was too lazy to go and divide stuff by chapters, but I have a general outline planned for the story.
I think we're not reaching the end quite yet, but we've definitely crossed the halfway mark of the plot (though maybe not the chapter count).
The first part of the story was going to be Annabeth's arc with Octavian, but I haven't even addressed Luke yet. He's probably going to start being introduced into the next chapter to get us into the second arc, which deals with the wars and Luke's position as a King of the Calbournes. Plus, we all know that Annabeth and Luke have one hell of a history that must be addressed. Also, you didn't just think that these royal children have run away from their families, and that's it? They've got to confront their pasts just like Annabeth did with her mother and Malcolm. You can't leave a life behind and expect no consequences.
Additionally, I still have *checks list* 7 more deaths to get through as of now (unless I extend it anymore; I'm still considering another one), so that'll take a bit of chapters to get through.
Until next time~
Fangirl xx
DaughterofAthena223: I hope it lived up the expectations lol
Leah Raymond: Lol it's all good. It def takes a while to get to the whole feminism part of this story, but I thought that I had to establish the darkness of patriarchy before having Annabeth kick some ass. I'm glad you like it!
Shauna Kullden: Yes, it is!
Mitsuha Miyamizi: I've kinda based Nico a little bit off myself, the part being done with life, of course, not the cute smol boi. That's allll him XP. BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME THAT I'D REVEAL WHAT HAPPENS TO NICO IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. Boi's in a coma, and I ain't giving up that tension so easily. You can pry my angst out of my cold, dead hands. :) Lmao, like I said, Nico and I are a higher level of done with life, and that includes not studying for finals. Bc Solangelo is my PJO OTP ;)
Reader: Like I said to my other reviewer, you can pry this angst out of my cold, dead hands XP Mental pain is the bEST. By FAR, my favorite lmao. It's free real estateeeeee. Ah, yes. Luke should be making an appearance next chapter, but I assure you, I've already planned out his entire plot, so I won't be swayed by your tempting evil ideas lol. yES Nico must get this character development. I wrote that scene with Will a longgggg time ago, so it was a long time coming, and I'm glad you felt it. Ahem. Lemme just copy and paste my reply to another review: "BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME THAT I'D REVEAL WHAT HAPPENS TO NICO IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. Boi's in a coma, and I ain't giving up that tension so easily." There we go haha. Drew's definitely an enigma. Oh, I totally forgot about that. I want a scene with Piper and Thalia too… hmm. Maybe I'll make one next chapter? Thanks for the reminder lol. Ohhhhhh. That makes way more sense. Thank you for both the birthday wishes and congrats on the test! Oh, yes. Mixed feelings tbh. I feel like Rick is trying to be a lot more careful this time, so even if it's not completely accurate, but if Rick approves, I approve. But obviously I'm also very concerned that it's not going to live up to expectations, so ig we'll just have to see. What do you think? Happy holidays to you too!