A/N: My friend two days ago: Lol so remember Percy Jackson? Lowkey nobody wanted to admit it, but we all had a crush on Percy just as much as we shipped him with Annabeth.
Me: *laughs in queer* yEAh *sweats profusely*
So recently, I released a oneshot (as some of you saw), and it's kinda cliché, and it makes fun of tropes (even though it totally is one), and it's pretty fluffy, and it's like nothing like my usual writing (minimal angst is revolutionary w me, I swear), and it's such a hit bc I'd just write something like "blood pooled underneath him, his dead eyes haunting her" in this story, and then proceed to go on my other document and be like "TOUCH ME WITH YOUR COLD FEET ONE MORE TIME." The whiplash is real, yo.
Then I released another oneshot titled Call It Even, which is suuuuper long, but I personally like it much more than cliché one. It has its fluffy moments, but there's carefully woven angst throughout, and I feel like it has more substance, while still being entertaining. Also, I feel like it's less sloppy than the sappy, cliché oneshot (appropriately named A Little Cliché), just because I put a bit more thought into it, and I wasn't delusional with the flu anymore when writing it lmao. Also, y'all be making me really soft. I got so many PMs after I wrote this from people struggling in their own ways, all of whom just felt really heard after reading the oneshot, and I lowkey wanted to cry. XP (Pathetic, ik). You guys deserve all the love in the world just for taking the time to reach out to me and being so honest, and I'm ridiculously relieved that you think it's a fairly accurate portrayal of mental illnesses. I would never, ever, ever want to offend anyone over this type of stuff.
Anyways, read one or both of those if you wanna ig, and don't if you don't. That's it for my shameless self-promo. Thx :D
(P.S. Happy very belated birthday to my baby Nico di Angelo. :3 Jan. 28th what a cutie)
Disclaimer: All rights remain.
Annabeth
Long live the King! Long live the King!
Annabeth felt sick to her stomach, watching as they cheered at hollered for the Boy King, proudly chanting his name over and over and over again. Every time their lips uttered his name, it felt like a stab in the gut. He had all of Thasite wrapped around his finger, in control as he'd always promised to be.
LUKE… he betrayed you.
LUKE… you loved him.
LUKE… how could he?
LUKE… he knew what he was and worse, he liked it.
LUKE… you thought you had played him, thought you had played both the Princes carefully. You're a fool. It was you who was played all along, played like a harp in a heaven that didn't exist.
Involuntary tears pricked at her eyes. Her stomach unfurled in her abdomen and she thought she was going to throw up. Annabeth shivered miserably. She could still feel his words, cold and calculated, and his eyes on her, an icy blue. And his touch, a touch she had once welcomed, only repulsed her now.
She had brought this upon herself. Apparently he was right: she was just a stupid, little girl, way in over her head like usual. Annabeth leaned over and dry heaved, pain lancing through her chest. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Loved me with your worst intentions. And I didn't even question it.
She gagged again, and nothing but spit came out. Her eyes stung with humiliation. Every time he had burned her down, for a moment it had felt like heaven. Her greed was her downfall, and this was her punishment.
…
Annabeth stood in front of the cell, her feet cold, feeling unsure.
She hadn't seen Luke since that day, since he'd put a collar around her neck and put her up for show, and once he'd humiliated her, he had left her alone. She wasn't sure whether to take solace in his absence or fear it. She had been thrown into a standard cell with two guards, but it was different now. Now, he must have ordered her to be moved because her guards stood behind her, shoving her into the new locked cage.
This one was bigger and open. It was the size of a small bedroom, taking up three-quarters of the room, with tall bars surrounding the cage. The cage was pushed up against the far corner of the room across from the white door.
Inside, there was a bed with clean white sheets, made neatly. It was also pushed into the corner, and the comforter was littered with pillows of different shapes and sizes. Next to the bed was a small table made of dark wood, topped with a teardrop lamp. On the opposite side was a small fountain, lit up with gentle lights, attached to the wall with blue, and green, and white stones neatly arranged at the bottom, and a polished marble spout shaped like a mermaid. It was beautiful in a way, despite Annabeth's irrational fear of all things water, including the fountain. There was a flat white rug on the ground to keep the cold of the stone floor from seeping in.
Perhaps most notably, on the opposite wall of the bed, there was a bookshelf, tall and dark, filled with shelves upon shelves of books, more than she could ever hope for. Even she didn't recognize every title, Annabeth who locked herself away in her library willingly back in Epresh, except for a few, beloved classics. Finally, most surprising of all, was the window.
It was small and dirty, like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and she could barely fit her head in it if she tried, but outside she could see the green grass and tall, willowy trees of one of the Thasite castle's many gardens. Outside, there was a pond and another fountain, and it was quiet save for the trickling stream of clear water.
Annabeth spun around to face the part they had led her through, only to find it locked. It was a beautiful cage, yes, but a cage nonetheless.
In front of the iron door, one of her guards stood, and the other had seated himself comfortably on another end. She would be watched like a hawk, she was sure.
The dread bubbling in her chest only heightened as the days passed, weeks—she wasn't sure—and no Luke came. No, he had left entirely alone in this prison. And why had he given her such a beautiful place? The manacles on her wrist were no different than anyone else's. It was concerning and worrisome, and so Annabeth began to read, finding consolation in words as she always had.
She devoured book after book, and after she finished a dozen or so, her guards would replace them. It was frustrating; this was frustrating. The blonde fought the urge to rip her hair out. She would never finish them all, she would be locked here forever… her lungs fought to get in air. Nothing happened in the pavilion outside her window, but she was still grateful to see the summer outside.
Annabeth tried to talk to her guards. They promptly ignored her, never touching her, never talking to her, never even looking in her direction. It was like she was… invisible. Here in this cage, they would forget about her. The Amazons would forget and the Canadians too, the people would forget, her friends would forget, she would forget. She had never felt smaller than she did then. Her plans to take the world by storm had been foiled and all by the Boy King.
The stack of books were overwhelming, yes, but equally confounding. There were fairy tales, textbooks, fiction, nonfiction, scraps of loose-leaf paper with anonymous poetry she had never seen before. None of the titles seemed to have any correlation to each other.
Annabeth gingerly set down the thick, leather-bound book, finished with it. Luke had purposefully left her that one, she could only assume. It was the history of Epresh, and there were pictures of her grandparents and parents and brother and even herself, but as a child. In the margins were scrawled lines of handwriting, a font too familiar for her to ever forget. Chiron. The dear words and thoughts of her favorite instructor were as vivid as she remembered, and she found herself rereading it time and time again, finding comfort in the old man's words.
"Please don't take that one," Annabeth found her voice. It was scratchy with low use.
The guard peered at her through dark eyelashes. His face did not change. Reluctantly, he let go of the book she had stopped him from exchanging. She hugged it tightly to her chest, her breath coming short with fear they would take it from her. It was probably her favorite one.
Annabeth, curled tightly into a ball, clicked on the lamp, flipping to the front cover to read it again as darkness flooded her window, the sun going to bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep, Chiron's words entering her dreams.
Piper
"We have to!" the brunette demanded, looking between Reyna and Hylla. They had yet to choose a new Queen. Hylla would probably take Artemis' place, but it still seemed odd, as if she didn't want the title. Perhaps Reyna would rise to the challenge.
"We've lost too many." Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose, the exhaustion catching up with her. She wasn't the only one.
Piper scanned the faces of these people she'd known for such a short amount of time. She paused on Percy. His complexion was pale, a streak of grey even coloring his hair. He was eighteen. Now he sat quietly.
"But she's worth everything," Piper insisted. "Annabeth is the face of the Amazons and Canadians. The public knows her, they trust her, they love her. They will walk through fire if she asks them to. She's our key to success."
"I refuse to do any more raids. Our numbers have dwindled!" Reyna snapped, glaring at Piper.
Piper's fists balled up at her sides. Nico watched her curiously out of the corner of his eye. He was perched on an unstable table, lithe and lean. He was twisting the skull ring around his finger like he did when he was thinking.
"And they will continue to fall unless we induct more people!"
Thalia put her head down on the table, but Piper could see she was listening.
"I'll do it."
All heads turned to face Hylla. Reyna's expression hardened. "No, you won't. You're in line for Queen. We need you."
Hylla shook her head. "I don't fucking want the position. I've already told you."
Reyna sucked in a breath in exasperation. "So who will take Artemis' place? We need a leader. We need organization. This isn't working." She gestured between Piper and herself, hinting at the excessive arguing. That much was true. They had all been arguing a lot more lately, on edge.
"Democracy works for the Canadians," Nico suggested from his corner.
"I think it's a bad idea. The Amazons will riot," Reyna gently denied. "The Amazons have been run like this for decades. If we change it now, we may lose more members. I don't have the power to keep them here." She inspected her sister's face carefully. "And I don't want the position either," she voiced for the first time.
At that, Piper let out an involuntary gasp. If not Hylla, if not Reyna, then who?
Hylla frowned at her sister.
"It will always belong to Artemis, our sister in all but blood," Reyna whispered, answering the unspoken question. Piper felt a pang of sympathy for the Ramirez sisters. They had known the Queen before she had grown reckless, before she had made poor decisions, when she had been as young as they were now. She had grown stubborn, but Piper had no doubt she had been a powerful force when she was younger and fresh-faced, before the harsh realities of being a leader had settled onto her shoulders.
"Thalia?" Reyna prompted, turning to her Lieutenant. "It's yours if you want it."
Thalia's head stayed in her arms. "No," came her muffled voice. She sat up, her expression tired. "I am your lieutenant, always," she fiercely proclaimed, gazing up at Reyna. "Where you go, I go."
The lump in Piper's throat returned at Thalia's vulnerability.
Thalia looked to Piper, and Piper felt her blood freeze. No.
"We cannot have a man on the chair." Thalia pursed her lips. "That much is obvious."
Nico bobbed his head from across the room. Percy's chair creaked as he shifted positions.
Thalia's piercing blue eyes landed on Piper's smaller frame. She's out of her mind. "Panflute."
Piper's heart felt like it would stop at any moment.
"Artemis always liked you."
Hylla scrutinized her along with Reyna and everyone else. Piper tried her best not to shrink under their stiff expressions. "A royal?" Hylla openly expressed her concern.
"Everyone knows Artemis adored her. She's the first to be handpicked by the Queen," Thalia interrupted, eyeing her carefully. "Everyone has your respect, McLean." It was perhaps the first time Thalia had actually called her by name. "If you take Queen, I will fully support you. Artemis saw something in you that day. None of us can express her sentiments exactly—those thoughts will course through the rivers with her—but I… I trust her judgement. If she sees you worthy, then I do too."
Piper's heart squeezed in her chest. "Thalia…" she trailed off, glancing desperately to Reyna to shut up the Lieutenant.
Reyna didn't move an inch. "She's not wrong."
"Reyna!" Piper was appalled. "You can't be serious," she pleaded. She looked from eye to eye, but Hylla, Reyna, and Thalia all seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion. "You all knew Artemis much better than me. You have been part of this since you were children. This is not my place, nor my honor, nor my burden. Don't give me a crown again. Please. I was lucky to dodge one in royalty."
Reyna blinked. "If you do not want it, we cannot force you. A Queen must pick the position herself or be appointed by a retiring Queen or voted to be changed or defeat the ex-ruler. But we all will serve you, Raya," Reyna affirmed.
"I…"
She glanced at Percy, who she had known since birth. His eyes were dark, unforgiving and unyielding. He tilted his head to one side, as if nudging her forward.
Piper's breath caught in her chest. "I don't know if I can handle the blood on my hands."
"My dear, you've already assassinated a Queen. Medusa is dead because of you," Thalia echoed.
Piper would never forget what it felt like to stab her and see the cruel light die in her eyes.
"So?" Hylla watched her carefully. Gwen was quiet, a newfound respect in her gaze.
Piper prayed she was making the right choice. "Yes."
The word was heavier than she expected. It felt life-altering, which it was, the weight of the crown catching up with her. Annabeth was their mascot, their lead strategist, Reyna and Hylla were Generals, Thalia and Gwen were great Lieutenants—they had all found their place and were content. Was this her destiny? If the people in the Heavens were real, were they smiling down at her, or did they know the series of challenges coming would crush her? She didn't even know if she was cut out for this. Only way to find out. She was reminded of her sister Drew. She had always sought greatness and was on a path to achieving it. Perhaps this was her road. Perhaps her choices had led to this moment, out of the shadows and in the spotlight. She would be different, better, cleaner, meticulous, and with Annabeth by her side if they ever got her back, they would be unstoppable.
"I pledge thyself to you, Piper McLean Raya, Queen of the Amazons."
Thalia ducked her head, taking a knee. Reyna and Hylla and Gwen followed in suit, lining up next to her, their hair falling into their heads.
Piper flexed her fingers, the gold bandana around her wrist feeling more lethal than it had five seconds ago.
"I pledge thyself," a chorus echoed around her as all witnesses began to kneel. Her veins thrummed with electricity.
"May you reign with justice and goodness and light, and may the prowess of our late Queens bless you," Hylla whispered, her eyes averted to the ground. Her dagger was pointed to the ground too, loose in her hand, and Reyna's hand was balled into a fist, pressed against her heart. Gwen lowered her shield to the floor, exposing her heart to her. Even Percy and Nico, both of whom had never dared bow to a Queen when they were Kings, when they were not true Amazons only brought her by their mutual friend, Annabeth, tilted their heads downward after sharing an expression of understanding.
"Ascend," Reyna promised, gazing up at Piper hopefully. It was a face Piper had not seen in so long. Everyone knew the words, and when they chanted together, Piper, standing in the heart of her newfound sisters and brothers, felt the true power of this rebellion that had been born on ash and dust. The bandanas gleamed from various positions around her, the light reflecting it just right.
Their voices rang through the air, hitting her ear from every aspect of the circle. "For gold and glory!"
Annabeth
Annabeth found herself naming the guards herself when they wouldn't answer her questions. That one, she decided, peering at the girl with white, artificial hair, I'll call her Kitten. The guard tended to have stray hairs on her, hairs that could not be human, and Annabeth deduced that she probably had a pet. She glanced at the man next. He was the one with dark eyes and a cold, unwelcoming face. His hair was a deep brown, one to rival Piper's (though Annabeth found herself struggling to remember what Piper looked like exactly as the days passed), and it fell into his face, irritating the blonde to no extent. I'll call him Twig, she decided, bemused by the nickname. Twig was far from it with thick muscles the width of his neck, but twigs were brown, and she found it fitting in an ironic sense.
With loneliness came frustration, and when the guards wouldn't speak, and the books kept coming, she found herself growing angrier by the moment.
Annabeth needed human interaction, she craved it, and she didn't care what she'd have to do to get it. It had been too long since Luke had locked her up—she had begun tallying the days with a sharp pen into the cement walls—and too long without his face. No, it was time for some answers, she internally acknowledged.
She stared down at the untouched food slid from under the caged door. There was sugary oatmeal, some fruit that changed each day, and dry toast. Locked in here, she found it most unappetizing, and more importantly, she found it to be a sign of weakness to eat this food. It would be admitting she depended on the Boy King. She only caved once in a while, scarfing it down without tasting it when her stomach hurt too much, but now she didn't do so.
The quiet ate away at her.
Kitten sneered at the food before returning to her chair. Twig occupied the other one, leaning back against the cage without another care.
Kitten stared at Annabeth's torso, probably noticing how skinny she was. As always, she didn't say anything.
Annabeth felt like she was choking when they looked at her, the knowledge that they held her freedom in the palm of their hands, crushing her. She hated it. She. Hated. It.
Annabeth threw her water glass against the opposite wall, letting it splattered and splinter against the horrible grey paint. Neither of her guards flinched. She did this a lot.
And it helped. For a minute. Maybe.
Annabeth followed the usual schedule, the one she had developed over the last month of captivity. Wake up. Immediately regret it. Receive breakfast. Lose appetite. Have food taken away. Immediately regret it. Throw water. Immediately regret it. Strip bed linens. Maybe rip up the sheets, sometimes while shouting. Immediately regret it. Attempt to read a book. Stare out window. Stare out window. Stare out window. Receive lunch. Repeat.
She was a very busy girl.
Or she guessed she should've said woman.
Eighteen was the arbitrary divide between child and adult, and she turned eighteen weeks ago. July 12th, the day of the quest that had left her where she was now. Now that anyone besides Percy and Malcolm knew or noticed. She highly doubted Kitten or Twig cared or noticed that their charge was another year older. Only one person in the prison palace would, and after taking her freedom from her in the trade, he did not visit, much to her relief. It was the single blessing in her captivity. While she was held here, surrounded by the worst people she'd ever know, she didn't have to suffer his presence.
Until today.
The utter silence around her shattered with the faintest click. The familiar turn of the door lock. Off schedule, without warrant. Annabeth's head snapped to the sound, as did her guards', their concentrating breaking in surprise. Adrenaline bled into her veins, driven by her suddenly thrumming heart. In a split second, she dared to hope again. She dreamed of who could be on the other side of the door.
Her brother. Reyna. Thalia.
Percy.
She wanted it to be Percy. She wanted his rage to consume the place and all the people whole.
But the man standing on the other side was no one she recognized. Only his clothes were familiar—blue uniform, white detailing. A security officer, nameless and unimportant. He stepped into her prison, holding the door open with his back.
Annabeth's guard jumped to their feet, just as surprised as she was.
"What are you doing?" Twig sneered. It was the first time she'd ever heard his voice.
Kitten did as she was trained to do, stepping between the blonde and the officer. Another burst of silence knocked into Annabeth, fed by Kitten's fear and confusion. It crashed like a wave, eating at the little bits of strength she still had left. She stayed rooted in her chair, loath to fall down in front of other people.
The security officer said nothing, staring at the floor. Waiting.
She entered in reply, draped in a gown made of intricate dark green silk and detailed lacing around the square neckline. Her raven hair was swept up in a meticulous swirl atop her head, combed and braided with gems in the fashion of a crown she hungered to wear. A jade snake curled around her neck with matching long, thin lines of stacked jade teardrop earrings, and Annabeth recognized Chinese characters engraved with delicate gold lettering. Her eyelashes were darkened and carefully separated, and they looked sharp and precise like spider legs. A metallic green curved along her eyelids, bringing her natural chocolate orbs to prominence.
Annabeth shuddered at the sight of her, perfect and cold and sharp, a Queen in bearing if not yet title. Because she was still not a Queen. Annabeth could tell.
"Drew," she murmured, trying to hide the tremors in her voice, both from fear and disuse. Drew's black eyes passed over her with all the tenderness of a cracking whip. Head to toe and back again, noting every imperfection, every weakness. Annabeth knew there were many. Finally her gaze landed on her collar, taking in the pointed metal edges. Her lip curled in disgust, and also hunger. How easy it would've been for her to squeeze, to drive the points of the collar into her throat and bleed Annabeth bone-dry.
"Lady Raya, you are not permitted to be here," Kitten said, still standing between them. Annabeth was surprised by her boldness, but not for long. She feared Luke a whole lot more than a thirsty Queen-to-be. Annabeth could relate.
Drew's eyes flickered to her guard, her sneer spreading. "You think I would disobey the King, my late mother's pride and solid ally?" She forced a cold laugh. "I am here on his orders. He commands the presence of the prisoner at court. Now."
Each word stung. A month of imprisonment suddenly seemed far too short. Part of Annabeth wanted to grab on to the table and force Drew to drag her out of her cage. But even isolation had not broken her pride. Not yet.
Not ever, she reminded herself. So she stood on weak limbs, joints aching, hands quivering. A month ago she had attacked guards with little more than her teeth. She tried to summon as much of that fire as she could, if only to stand up straight.
Kitten kept her ground, unmoving. Her head tipped to Twig, locking eyes with her who Annabeth had deduced a long time back was her cousin. "We had no word. This is not protocol."
Again Drew laughed, showing white, gleaming teeth. Her smile was beautiful and violent as a blade. "Are you refusing me, Guard Haven?"
Haven. Annabeth processed the new information. She recognized the name, only a distant relative of the Calbournes. So that's why they're doing Luke's bitch work. That and they were just as scared as the rest of the world. And they had every right to be. Her eyes snapped back to Drew and the scene unfolding in front of her.
As Drew spoke, her hands wandered to her dress, running perfect light gold skin through the forest of fabric. Her painted nails carefully caressed her trusty butterfly blades. She palmed the slivers of metal, patient, waiting, one eyebrow raised. The guards knew better than to extend their crushing silence to a Raya daughter, let alone a future Queen.
The pair of them exchanged wordless glances, clearly coming down on either side of Evangeline's question. Twig furrowed his brow, glaring, and finally Kitten sighed aloud. She stepped away. She backed down.
"A choice I'll not forget," Drew murmured, relinquishing her blades.
Annabeth felt exposed before her, alone in front of her piercing eyes despite the other guards and officers Drew had brought with her looking on. Drew knew her, knew what she was, what she could do. And Drew was clever if she was still here, if Luke had deemed her worthy of her life even after both her parents were dead. Drew showed no signs of grief, untouched by pain, unlike Luke, who Annabeth had seen with dark circles under his eyes. In some ways, it frightened Annabeth more than it should've.
Deliberate, Annabeth took a step forward. Toward her. Toward the blissful emptiness that surrounded her. Another step. Into the free air.
But her sneer bled into a smile. Drew matched Annabeth's pace, moving back, and Annabeth almost snarled. "Not so fast, Chase."
It was the first time she'd ever said her real name.
Drew snapped her fingers, pointing at Kitten. "Bring her along."
…
They dragged Annabeth the way they had done the first time—by her collar and recklessly. This time she didn't put up a fight. Kitten was standing close to her anyways.
Drew said nothing the entire way there, only setting the pace. Annabeth could hear faint clicking every time she walked, and she had no doubt that under the large, full skirt, she was wearing heels. Knowing Drew, there were probably blades concealed in the bottom and in her dress. She knew firsthand from fighting, and losing, against her in the arena that Drew had a habit of hiding weapons in her earrings and her bracelets doubling as metal whips that could be set afire.
Annabeth swallowed at the reminder, her cheek stinging involuntarily at the memory of Drew slicing her to ribbons.
They led her up a series of white marble staircases that Annabeth had only seen once or twice. She recognized this corridor, though, and she knew it led to the large dining room the Calbournes used to entertain their guests. Or enemies.
They passed a block of windows on a landing, looking west across the barracks to the main river and the other half of the city beyond it. It seemed eerily familiar, and then Annabeth remembered that she knew this view. She had stood in front of windows like those with Percy. She had lied to him, knowing an attack would come that night. But she hadn't known what it would do to either of them. Percy had whispered then that he wished things were different. Annabeth shared the lament.
Music echoed from somewhere. It pulsed like a swollen and heavy heart. Annabeth had never heard such music before, not even at the balls she'd attended through the years. It had a life of its own, something dark and twisting and oddly inviting. Ahead of her, Drew's shoulders stiffened at the sound.
Drew didn't turn right, as Annabeth expected, to enter the throne room through the grand, arching doors. Instead, she surged forward, all of them in tow, pushing into another room Annabeth knew all too well.
The council chamber. A perfect circle of marble and polished, gleaming wood. Seats rung the walls, and the seal of Thasite, the Tsunami Crown, dominated the ornate floor. Blue and white and black, with points of bursting cold water. Annabeth almost stumbled at the sight of it, and she had to shut her eyes. Kitten would pull her through the room, she had no doubt of that. Annabeth would gladly let her drag her if it meant she didn't have to see any more of this place.
An Amazon died here, she remembered. Her face flashed behind Annabeth's eyelids. She was hunted down like a rabbit. And it was wolves that caught her—Drew, Malcolm, Percy. They captured her in the tunnels beneath, following her orders from the Amazons. They found her, dragged her here, and presented her to Queen Medusa for interrogation. It never got that far. Because she killed herself. She swallowed a murderous pill in front of them all to protect the secrets of the Amazons. To protect Annabeth.
When the music tripled in volume, the ex-Princess opened her eyes again.
The council chamber was gone, but the sight before her was somehow worse.
Nico
"You're never going anywhere again."
Nico rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation.
"You're being unreasonable, Will."
"I'm not," the blond insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. Nico was mildly reminded of Persephone. Will was such a mom. A nagging one, at that, but Nico could't find it in him to smile. Will's demeanor shifted, turning into something much softer.
"She looked at me," Nico mumbled, and Will put a hand on his shoulder, comforting him. "She looked at me before she asked him to lock her up. And I know her," Nico admitted. "She must have been thinking of my sister." He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "She felt guilty, and so she signed herself up for a death wish. I told her. I looked her in the eye, and I shook my head." The memory was as vivid as real life. "I told her not to do it. And now she's gone."
Nico exhaled harshly. He could not help but blame himself for her absence. He saw the aftermath on Percy's face every single day. He, like Piper, seemed to simply go through the motions, two zombies walking. At least Piper was a little better. She had a group of people to lead.
Percy simply sat at the side, easily excelling in all categories. Amazons needed someone to fish? There was no one more skilled than the boy born and brought up by the sea. The Canadians needed someone to move the heavy boulders to create more weapons? Percy devised an easy lever to move it. Nico was reminded of Archimedes: give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world. He was ingenious, taking Annabeth's place in strategy headquarters. Some of his strategies were clean enough to rival even those of Annabeth's, but he didn't seem to care, a shell of a man.
The emotion Percy ever showed was anger, something even Nico hated to behold.
Will snapped him out of his reverie. "It's not your fault." It felt like a mantra, something Will would say on repeat like a broken record, false words to assure him of past mistakes.
"I'm going to visit Percy," Nico said instead, choosing to momentarily ignore Will's comfort.
Will drew away, but he wasn't hurt. Over the time they had begun to know each other, Will had learned that Nico just needed space sometimes, and it wasn't personal. It wasn't that Nico was still in love with Percy, or that Will wasn't enough, but that Percy was one of his original comforts, one in whom he still indulged in from time to time. The healer nodded to himself.
"There's all hands on deck at the infirmary later tonight," he informed the dark Prince. "Thalia and her squad will be returning from their investigation of the Rayas." They had traveled all the way up to Sumisu, even visiting Malcolm on the way to fill him in some more.
Nico nodded in understanding. "I'll see you f—"
"—for dinner," Will finished. They were so in sync that despite the numbing pain of losing Annabeth to the enemy, Nico found it in him to offer the smallest smile. Will beamed in return, kissing his cheek chastely. "Be safe," he nagged, using his motherly roots, one last time.
Nico rolled his eyes and not bothering with a jacket—the Canadian summers were still more than warm enough for his cold-blooded soul—he stalked out of their shared cabin.
…
Percy stared at the cold, untouched tea in between them. Nico hardly liked tea—coffee reigned supreme, despite his royal roots—and Percy was too depressed to enjoy anything.
"It's awfully quiet in here," Nico noted, skeptically glancing around Percy's cabin.
There was some armor piled in a corner, and smaller, sharp-toed boots which he could only presume belonged to Annabeth.
Percy bobbed his head in silent agreement. His television was still flickering across the room, though the volume was turned down to the point where even bats wouldn't be able to hear it. Nico had a hollow feeling that Percy watched it every day, obsessively checking over Luke's public statements, and if he had decided to play puppet with Annabeth again, making her say bold things under the public eye.
Nico was not much different. He had felt disgusted every time Annabeth was forced to speak, and every time she looked worse and worse, her skin yellowing and pale, her hair thin, her stomach skinny, and her wrists too. There were always dark circles under her eyes, darker than usual.
"Nico?"
"Mhmm?" He reluctantly sipped at the tea, resisting the urge to spit it right back out. Percy had added a heap of salt for some goddamn reason. Nico had severely underestimated Percy's shaky state of mind. His mouth pursed around the rim, feeling sour.
"Thank you." His tone is crisp like a politician, a King, but Nico didn't mind. Percy tended to revert to all he'd known all his life when going through a life-shaking moment. He had lost both parents, gained a mother he thought dead, lost the love of his life not once, but twice, and so much more on the endless list of all the ways the universe hated Percy Jackson. Nico could pardon his odd demeanor and manner of speaking.
Nico warmed his hands on the seeping heat from the glass. "Don't mention it."
They watched the tv together that evening, not saying one more word.
Annabeth
Music bloomed throughout the dining hall, filling the room with celebration and happiness—happiness she wasn't accustomed to. Annabeth blinked, absorbing the scene before her before they could notice her. They had stepped off an elevated landing onto a cold stone floor, and before a raucous party was in session.
Annabeth's eyes darted back and forth, on edge, on defense, searching every face and every shadow for opportunity, or danger. Silk and gemstones and beautiful armor winked beneath the light of a dozen chandeliers, creating a human constellation that surged and twisted on the marble floor. After a month of imprisonment, the sight was an assault on the blonde's senses, but she gulped it in, a girl starved. So many colors, so many voices, so many familiar lords and ladies. For now, they took no notice of her. Their eyes did not follow. Their focus was on one another, their cups of wine and multicolored liquor, the harried rhythm, the fragrant smoke curling through the air. It must've been a celebration, a wild one, but for what, Annabeth had no idea.
Naturally, her mind flew. Had they won another victory? Against Percy, against the Amazons? Or were they still cheering her capture?
One look at Drew was answer enough. Annaber had never seen her scowl that way, not even at herself. Her catlike sneer turned ugly, angry, full of rage like Annabeth couldn't imagine. Her eyes impossibly darkened, shifting over the display. They were black like a void, swallowing up the sight of her people in a state of ultimate bliss.
Or, Annabeth realized, ignorance.
Her blood ran cold all of a sudden. Her years of hiding in corners of the black market and palming small treasures like a thief for her studies had taught her well, both in reflexes and in senses. She could feel his eyes on her, and what's more, she knew he knew.
Annabeth resisted the urge to turn her face and notice him, but she caved quickly.
She came eye-to-eye with blue.
Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath, unable to anticipate how much this would have affected her. He impassively glanced at her one last time before looking up to Drew with mild irritation, then he turned to Annabeth's nearest jailer.
"Explain yourself!" he erupted.
Twig jumped in his boots.
The outburst stopped the music, the dancing, and the drinking in the span of a heartbeat.
"S-Sir—" Twig sputtered, and one of his gloved hands gripped Annabeth's arm. He tried to find an explanation that didn't put blame on himself, or Drew, but it came up short.
Annabeth's chain trembled in Kitten's hand, but her grip was still tight.
Only Drew was unaffected by the King's wrath. She expected this response.
He didn't order her to bring Annabeth here. There was no summons at all.
Luke was not a fool. He waved a hand at Twig, endling his mumbling with a single motion. "Your feeble attempt is answer enough," he said. "What do you have to say for yourself, Drew?"
The few distant relatives of the Rayas stood tall, but others were not so gifted at hiding their thoughts. They had the same eyes as Drew, the kind where the color shifts mesmerizingly. They stood on the dais with the guards. Though their bodies were still, their eyes darted between the King and Drew, and one fist clenched slowly on the smallest boy on the right. Good. Let them fear for her as Annabeth had feared for her friends and brother and. Watch her suffer as she watched Jason die.
Because what else could Luke do now? Drew had deliberately disobeyed his order, leaping past the allowances her status allowed as an ex-betrothal and hand-chosen Princess by late Queen Medusa herself. If Annabeth knew anything, she knew that to cross the King was to be punished. And to do it here, in front of the entire court? He might as well have just executed her on the spot.
If Drew thought she was risking death, she didn't show it. Her voice never cracked or wavered. "You ordered the terrorist to be imprisoned, shut away like a useless bottle of wine, and after a month of council deliberation, there had been no agreement on what is to be done with her. HEr crimes are many, worthy of a dozen deaths, a thousand lifetimes in our worst jails. She killed or maimed hundreds of your subjects since she was discovered, your own parents included, and still she rests in a comfortable bed chamber, eating, breathing—alive without the punishment she deserves."
Luke was his mother's son, and his court facade was nearly perfect.
Drew's words didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.
"The punishment she deserves," he repeated. Then he looked to the room. "So you brought her here. Really, are my parties that bad?"
A thrum of laughter, both genuine and forced, rippled through the rapt crowd. Most of them were drunk, but there were enough clear heads to know what was going on. What Drew had done.
Drew pulled a courtly smile that looked so painful Annabeth expected her lips to start bleeding at the corners. "I know you are grieving for your mother, Your Majesty," she said without a hint of sympathy. "As am I. As we all are. But your father would not act this way. The time for tears is over."
Those last were not her words, but the words of Poseidon. Luke's father, Luke's ghost. His mask threatened to slip for a moment, and his eyes flashed with equal parts dread and anger. Annabeth remembered those words as well as he did. Spoken before a crowd just like this, in the wake of the Amazons' execution of political targets. Targets chosen by Luke, fed to him by his mother. Annabeth and her friends had done their dirty work, while they added to the body count with an atrocious attack of their own. They had used Annabeth, used the Amazons to eliminate some of their enemies and demonize others in one fell swoop. They destroyed more, killed more than any of them had ever wanted.
Annabeth could still smell the blood and smoke. She could still hear a mother weeping over all her dead children. She could still hear the words framing the rebellion for it all.
"Strength, power, death," Luke murmured, his teeth clicking. The words had scared Annabeth then, and they terrified her now. "What do you suggest, my Lady? A beheading? A firing squad? Do we take her apart, piece by piece?"
Annabeth's heart galloped in her chest. Would Luke have allowed such a thing? She didn't know. She didn't know what he would do. She had to remind herself, she didn't even know him. The boy she had thought him to be was an illusion. But the notes, brutally left, but full of pleas for her to return? The month of quiet, gentle captivity? Perhaps those had been false too, another trick to ensnare her. Another kind of torture.
"We do as the law requires. As your father would have done."
The way she said father, using the word as brutally as she would any knife, was confirmation enough. Like so many people in the room, she knew King Poseidon did not end the way the stories said.
Still, Luke gripped his throne, white-knuckling the white slabs. He glanced at the court, feeling their eyes upon him, before sneering back at Drew.
"Not only are you not a member of my council, but you did not know my father well enough to know his mind. I am a King as he was, and I understand the things that must be done for victory. Our laws are sacred, but we are fighting two wars now."
Two wars.
Adrenaline pulsed through Annabeth so quickly. It was hope. She bit her lip to keep from grinning. Weeks into her captivity the Amazons and Canadians continued, and thrived. Not only were they still fighting, but Luke admitted it openly. They were impossible to hide or dismiss now.
Despite the need to know more, Annabeth kept her mouth shut.
Luke burned a stare through Drew. "No enemy prisoner, especially not one as valuable as Annabeth Chase, should be wasted on common execution."
Her name in his mouth sent tingles up her spine.
"You waste her still!" Drew argued, firing back so quickly Annabeth knew she must have practiced for this argument. She took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between herself and Luke. It all seemed like a show, an act, something played out on the platform for the court to witness, but for whose benefit? "She sits collecting dust, doing nothing, giving us nothing, while Aegremonth burns!"
Another jewel on information to keep close. More, Drew, Annabeth found herself pleading. Give me more.
She had seen the fortress city, the heart of the Thasite military, erupt in riots with her own eyes a month ago. It was still happening. Mention of Aegremonth sobered the crowd. Luke did not miss it, and he fought to keep his calm.
"The council is days away from a decision, my Lady," he said through gritted teeth.
"Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty. I know you wish to honor your council as best you can, even the weakest parts of it. Even the cowards who cannot do what must be done." Another step closer, and her voice softened to a purr. "But you are the King. The decision is yours."
Masterul, Annabeth realized. Drew was just as adept at manipulation as any other. In a few words, she had not only saved Luke from appearing weak, but also forced him to follow her will to maintain an image of strength. In spite of herself, Annabeth drew in a harried breath. Would he do as she bidded? Or would he refuse, throwing fuel on the fire of insurrection already blazing through the High Houses?
Luke was no fool. He understood what Drew was doing, and he kept his focus on her. They held each other's gaze, communicating with forced smiles and sharp eyes.
"My mother certainly did bring forth the most talented daughter," he said, taking her hand. Both of them looked disgusted by the action. His head snapped to the crowd, looking to a lean man in dark blue. A Calbourne, Annabeth realized. "Cousin! Your petition of interrogation is granted."
Kronos Calbourne snapped to attention and emerged from the crowd, clear-eyed. He bowed, almost grinning. Blue robes billowed, dark as smoke. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"No."
The word wrenched itself from Annabeth.
"No, Luke!"
Kronos moved quickly, ascending the platform with controlled fury. He closed the distance between them in a few determined strides, until his eyes were the only thing in Annabeth's world. Blue eyes, Medusa's eyes, Luke's eyes.
"Luke!" Annabeth gasped again, begging even though it would do nothing. Begging even though it burned her pride to think she was asking him for anything. But what else was there to do? Kronos was an esteemed interrogator, rival only to that of Medusa. He would destroy her from the inside out, search everything she was, everything she knew. How many people would die because of what she'd seen? "Luke, please! Don't let him do this!"
Annabeth was not strong enough to break Kitten's grasp on her chain or even struggle much when Twig seized her shoulders. Both of them held her in place with ease. Her eyes flashed from Kronos to Luke. One hand on his throne, one hand in Drew's. I miss you, his notes said. He was unreadable, but at least he was looking.
Good. If he wouldn't save her from this nightmare, she wanted him to see it happen.
"Luke," she whispered one last time, trying to sound like herself. Not little Annie, not Lady Chase Ashington the prized Princess, but Annabeth. The girl he watched through the bars of a cell and pledged to save. But that girl wasn't enough. He dropped his eyes. He looked away.
She was alone.
Kronos took her throat in his hand, squeezing above the metal collar, forcing her to look into his wretched, familiar eyes. Blue as ice, and just as unforgiving
"You were wrong to kill Medusa," he said, not bothering to temper his words. "She was a surgeon with minds."
He leaned in, a starving man about to devour a meal.
"I am a butcher."
…
Annabeth's mind was still numb four days later from Kronos' torture when Luke stormed into her room, startling her. He peered at her through the bars, his anger evident. Her first, albeit pathetic, feeling was fear. Where had she gone wrong again?
But no—this anger was different.
It was exposed and unashamed. When he was angry with her, it was much, much worse. It was quiet in that way that minefields were, the sand still, right before mighty TNT blew up the entire land, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.
The guards took one look at his face before fearfully scurrying out of her room. Annabeth had never wanted Twig and Kitten by her side up until now.
"She took you from my room!"
Annabeth seized back in her cage, her eyes wide. She had never, ever seen him like this. He was not raised to be this vocal about his anger, but he looked like he was ready to burn down a city. She swallowed noisily.
Summoning her courage, she said perhaps her first words to him since her capture. "I called for you." She squeezes her eyes shut, the mere notion of pleading for Luke enough to make her want to throw up.
Luke hesitated, listening.
"I called for you," Annabeth croaked again, looking up at him. His fists were balling and unraveling at his sides over, and over, and over again. The words did not sound any cheaper, no matter how she emphasized it. "And you turned away." The interrogation had left her brain hazier than she had ever been. Even alcohol did not intoxicate her like this.
There's some semblance of guilt in his eyes, but Annabeth could not find it in her to accept his silent apology, no matter how he shaped his expressions. He was a monster, she tried to remind herself. His voice trembled with rage. "You're mine. Only mine. No one can touch you without my permission. No one can hurt you." The implied except me hung in the air like a dark cloud, diminishing his bold words. "I'll make her pay for touching what belongs to me," he growled, and Annabeth shuddered. This wasn't love; this was an obsession. The obsession of a Boy King, the possession of a broken little boy, manipulated by Medusa, stripping away whatever was left of the boy she thought she'd loved. The boy who had never existed.
"And I take care of things that are mine." His eyes darkened, and she swallowed hard, backing away slowly but surely. He was too angry to have good judgement, to be cautious, to stray from being reckless. She was scared out of her mind, and weirdly relieved to know he had indeed regretted not saving her from Kronos. Part of him, no matter how twisted, would watch out for her, would be her saving grace, all derived from his obsession.
"And I'll remind them a thousand times if I must."
Annabeth's hands were clammy. "Luke…" she trailed off. His name hurt too, but his eyes only brandished a brighter blue at her lips shaping his name. Annabeth didn't scream, refusing to give him the satisfaction, to give Drew the satisfaction, wherever that twisted bitch was.
…
Burned into her collarbone, it was a nasty scar, the letter of an ex-love. It was a scar that she suspected would never fully heal. Her breath hitched and she shut her eyes, squeezing them closed.
She would not get sleep that night.
L for Luke, L for leash, L for limit, L for lies, and L for love.
…
Two weeks or so passed before he saw her again. He was much calmer this time round, but it didn't keep the apprehension away from her.
Luke sat in a chair opposite to her, and the guards obediently filed out of the room, leaving them alone. It was a stark contrast to Octavian, Annabeth noted, who always stood over her, towering above her. Luke, she realized, did not need elevation to feel powerful, and she wasn't sure if that was more terrifying or less.
Annabeth sat back on her bed at his entrance, frowning at his arrival. She discreetly dropped the pages she had been ripping to shreds from the rotating books onto the carpeted floor.
"Luke," she addressed tersely.
"Annabeth." His voice was impassive, but just as painful as ever. He eyed the littered papers carefully, and Annabeth defiantly raised her chin in response.
A question that had been nagging her found its way out of her mouth without her permission. "Why had you been celebrating that day?" The day she walked into the dining room, only to leave with Kronos having a vice grip on her brain. She didn't expect him to answer honestly, and his answer surprised her.
"I am engaged."
"Oh." That hadn't been what she was expecting at all.
"You didn't know?"
"How could I? I'm not exactly kept informed."
Luke shrugged, raising his shoulders, showing more of his white skin as the water royal robe around him shifted. "Yes, well, I didn't really think you were going to start breaking things over me, but…" He paused and looked her way, then back down at the papers. "It felt good to wonder."
If there were no consequences, Annabeth would have scowled and screamed and clawed his eyes out. Tell Luke that even though her time with his brother had been fleeting, she still remembered every heartbeat they shared; it didn't matter if she had spent longer in this prison than with Percy, and therefore had known Luke longer. She wanted to tell him that she remembered the feel of his brother pressed up against her as they slept, alone together, trading nightmares. His hand at her neck, flesh on flesh, making her look at him as they dropped from the sky. What he smelled like. What he tasted like. I love your brother, Luke. You were right. You are only a shadow, and who looks at shadows when they have flame? Who would ever choose a monster over a god?
She couldn't hurt Luke with knives, but she could destroy him with words, poke at his weak spots, open his wounds, let him bleed and scab over into something worse than he ever was before.
The words she managed instead were much different.
"To whom?"
Luke gave her one long look, and she shut her mouth. He had already revealed more than she had hoped for. She would not be greedy.
"Not Drew," he finally said, filling the silence.
Annabeth gaped at him. Not Drew? If she had expected anyone, it would have been her. She would have made a formidable ally.
"Why not?" she blurted out.
Luke sneered, but it lacked its usual malice. He coolly adjusted the badges on his heavy military coat. He was quiet, and she understood before he could say so. He always gave her room to think. "Her family's backstabbed too many times," said Luke, "I won't reward them for it."
Annabeth nodded curtly. They fell silent again. It was odd to be in the same room as him and not be trading insults back and forth, or at least not daydreaming of spilling his blood on an altar. Annabeth forced herself to take a good look at him. He's a monster. A monster, she chanted internally.
"Will you kill Drew?" She didn't expect honesty again, and once more he surprised her.
"We'll see," he muttered, his words clipped. "She has been relatively useful."
"Do you like her?" she asked instead, changing topics entirely.
If it had been anyone else but Luke, they would have misunderstood, taking 'her' for Drew, not for his betrothed. But it was Luke, and he understood her more than she herself did. He scratched a hand along his scalp and huffed, childlike. "As if that has anything to do with it."
"Well, she is the first relationship you'll have since your mother died. It'll be interesting to see how that plays without her poison in you." Annabeth drummed her fingers at her sides. It was a loaded statement, designed to evoke a reply from him, designed to confirm if Medusa really fucked with his mind, or if it had all been a lie. The words sunk in slowly, and he barely nodded. Agreeing. Annabeth felt a surge of pity for him. She fought it tooth and nail. "And you betrothed what, a few weeks ago? It seems fast, faster than your engagement to me at least." The reminder was bitter, but true. She could not hide from the past, no matter how horrific.
"That tends to happen when an entire army hangs in the balance." His voice is dry, but not as harsh as usual.
It twisted Annabeth's insides to realize how rigged the game had been, for everyone, for so long.
"Why are you here?" Annabeth finally broke, looking at him skeptically. "What do you want from me?"
"More than your freedom?" Luke voiced emptily.
At least he knew he had everything she had to offer. That calmed her nerves. "Yes," she said anyways. "You would never visit me unless you needed something. So?" she prodded.
When Luke fell silent, she understood. He had visited not for him, but for her. He knew she got lonely, knew she ripped paper from frustration of loneliness, of emptiness, of lack of mental stimulation. The thought made her go quiet too.
"Will you let me go?" Annabeth begged abruptly. She was pleading now, as she had for no one else. Not for Percy, not for her brother, not for anyone else. Just him.
Luke stood from his chair.
"Luke," she whispered when he turned his back on her, ready to leave. "Please."
He flinched, pained, but she could not find sympathy for him. Not now. She needed him to love her, not to simply obsess. To believe that he was good, good enough to set her free.
He didn't say anything before walking out of the room.
A/N: Someone reviewed one of my oneshots on Valentine's Day, and honestly I'm so happy rn. They pretty much said they favorited my story for my A/N, which is just—that's so fucking sweet; I can't even begin to fathom it. It's not even that big of a deal, but I'm so tired, and it's like they're saying they favorited for my sucky, cynical personality alone, and honestly random stranger out on the internet, I hope you're reading this bc you made my day.
So anyways, I recently took the ACT, which is part of the reason why this chapter took so damn long to get out (and has so many adapted scenes, rather than original paragraphs). I hope I did well. ;-; *stresses* Imma cross my fingers for my score lmao, even though it's coming in APRIL, which is freaking preposterous; how does it take them five million years to grade a scantron?
The world doesn't make sense, my dudes.
In other news, I was reading Red Queen confessions, and I'm deceased omg. This girl was like: "WHEN I WAS READING ABOUT MAVEN'S CRAZY NOTES AND HIM BRANDING MARE, I COULDN'T HELP BUT THINK 'OH MY GOOSSSHHHH, I WANT HIM TO BRAND MEEEEEE.'"
She's so thirsty; it's got me weak. Not that I can blame her lmfao. Maven is still my fav; he's so damn cunning, and he's so vulnerable sometimes, and idgaf how terrifying he is, he's so fucking sweet from time to time. He's like JD from Heathers, if y'all know what I'm talking about. Damaged, but enticing, and enticing because he's damaged.
Until next time~
Kit xx
Guesti: hA. You probably hated this chapter then lmao. Luke n Annie ain't pretty, I know. (But seriously thank you so much for reviewing, you sweet, sweet soul.)
DaughterofAthena223: Well, I'm flattered. I know I'm rather harsh on myself and my own writing, much to my readers' distaste, but I can't help but be critical. Criticism only makes you better, right? Well, thank you regardless. The least I can do is thank y'all for giving my stories a shot, and dealing with my odd personality, and reviewing.
I suppose I understand that, at least. I really, really love the people whose stories I read myself, both on fanfic, and published authors. Thank you for caring. You don't need to, but you do anyways, and that's astounding to me. :P yES! I do that all the time. I'm a bit of a poet myself (not for fanfic though), and they're all incoherent and depressing. I'm glad I'm not alone in writing stupid crap in the wee hours of the morning lol.
OF COURSE I WOULD INCLUDE THIS PLOT POINT. Maven is my bae; I'm sorry. Ik rationally I shouldn't like him, but… but I can't help it. I can't wait to play with Annabeth's character as well. For this chapter, I was short on time and extremely busy, so I had to sample from Aveyard way more, but next chapter hopefully it'll be more me, and how I choose to screw with Annabeth's brain, which I am unhealthily excited for.
Hell yes; INTPS unite. My sister's an INTJ, so I don't mind either way, but it's super cool that we share one. Hope this update will be enough to tide you over until next chapter!
BethnPercy: *wheeze* The second I read 'Annabeth what the actual fuck,' I knew this review would be kickass. (W's made me stop breathing btw.) This entire review was fucking gold, and honestly I stan bc how tf was this so goddamn funny. (Also I saw you reviewed my oneshot thank you so much ;-; I was lowkey nervous bc I'm always going off about what a shame it is that people never spend time to write stories that don't follow basic tropes, and then I decided to pull a 180 and finally give that a try, and idk I thought everyone would judge and be like "this is too cheesy wtf is this trash fangirl is supposed to deliver angst and hella plot, not sweet shit." Also sickness makes me extra emotional lmao. Not even gonna lie I was like on the verge of crying like why is she so sweet I don't dESERVE YOU lol :3 ty)
Thank you so much for writing out such a creative review (psst don't tell, but it might be one of my fav reviews of all time). That probably took so much effort, and that's really fucking sweet. Looks are definitely Percabeth's thing (maybe they can make a cameo in twilight with all that damn staring). "Of course tho Luke came and shot most of you but like at least some of you lived." I'm fucking deceased. 'At least some of you lived.' You're so savage w/out even trying, and I honestly can't handle it.
Will Solace is the ultimate mom, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Omfg, I swear I don't like locking Annabeth up. This isn't fifty shades of grey. (Shut up, Kit. XP) Truth is, in Red Queen the main character gets locked up by the 'Luke' character, but I remember when outlining the plot of this story, I couldn't decide whether to have it be Octavian or Luke, so I ended up doing both lmao. Bro that would've been the greatest show of all time tbh, but Luke's too smart for that imo, and she's too weak and terrified of him to try something like that so early on. Percy's gonna be so fucking mad. Remember when Percy got taken away by Hera in the canon series? Let's just… take a moment to imagine what would've happened if it had been Annabeth instead. *chaos ensues, Olympus falls, Percy goes down in history as the baddest bitch to ever live* Wonderful.
Big oof. Hopefully, you're not nearly as sleep-deprived by the time you're seeing this. I'm not really a 'mom friend,' but you should def go get some sleep. Thank you so much for reviewing, even as a half-zombie, and I hope to see you again soon!
Much love, as always xx
AnnabethChase-Wisdom'sDaughter: Thank you so much!
Reader: LMAO. You just called out Artemis so hard, and I'm shooketh. "That was really brutal." Oh, look: it's my life. (My brain is so fried rn. Please excuse all and any mistakes, and or somewhat eyebrow-raising phrases in this response.) Ah, yes, Solangelo my sweet children. (I'm thinking I might make a oneshot with them sometime.) I bet Will did tie him to his bed. (In more ways than one) *cough* Drew is one hundred percent cunning and smart af, and she's even smart enough to look pretty and vain, and pretend like she's not. Honestly, people are betting on who's going to win all these bloody wars, but as they trade between Annabeth and Luke and Percy and Octavian and Reyna, they really should've been looking to the Tanaka Princess. She could cut them all in the matter of a few seconds. Well, as you can see in this chapter, Luke really did let them go. That's not to say he's not always watching people, calculating, but he was true to his word. He wants Annabeth more than any of them, except perhaps his brother.
Lol I love how you're threatening me w/ long, ranting reviews. Honestly, I love them to death; some of y'all are super entertaining. Omg, did it really say that? Well now ig we know I'm for sure a logician. That's fucking hilarious, though, that it actually said that.
I'm not really the assumptious type either, and I'm so glad you're not. You might've been one of my last shreds of sanity when everyone in the reviews was freaking out tbh lmao. "Bold of you to assume we feel obligated"; yes, I'm starting to see that. A couple of other reviewers felt very strongly about that lol. I mean, I just like engaging with y'all, and I don't expect anything in return, but I'm grateful when you respond to me. I've always enjoyed my own company (logician *cough*), but sometimes it gets lonely to write all this shit, and not have any real human beings read it, you know? When you guys talk to me, it reminds me I'm a human being, and social interaction is good for me sometimes lol. I suppose I just wanted you guys to know that you never have to review, but those of you who do make my day. Either way, I appreciate it.
Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't think it'd really make y'all sad w/ the temporary thing, just because that's how I view everything (depressing philosophy where u at), but I apologize regardless. I can see why some people would like to avoid that line of thinking, including you mediators lol. Oh, you're like my dad. He always watches those cringy Hallmark movies bc he thinks life is too sad, and he likes happy endings, so he avoids sad movies lmfao. That's such a pure idea of living, and I kind of love it tbh.
I hope midterms went well! I myself have many competitions for piano and violin coming up soon (it's musical competition season noooo), so I might be some time until I update again, but I hope this is enough to satisfy you until then. Lmao maybe next chapter will be happier. Idk, though, I haven't even started thinking about it lol. (So responsible, ik). Omg yes, my other stories. I gotta address those reviews.
Your review for A Little Cliche was pretty funny, and thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and of course wishing for me to feel better. Your girl's kinda healthy now; the flu can suck it lmao. I'm really touched by your review for Call It Even, though. First off, Valentine's Day was super lit in elementary school, so kudos to you for taking some smarties. Second of all, I am so sorry that oneshot was so depressing for you to read on goddamn Valentine's Day. I had honestly not expected to post something so sad near that day, but it just ended up lining up like that. Weird how things turn out.
Omg lol. Actually, about three days after I posted it, I went through and fixed like seven typos. There was literally a mistake in the first paragraph smh. And there's still a million grammatical errors that I just couldn't bear to hunt down, but I'm glad you think it was still perfect. I'm just a huge grammar nazi tbh, and a walking, talking dictionary, so that kind of thing bothers me easily. Unfortunately, editing is a pain in my ass, and I've never wanted to get a beta, so all my fanfics are unedited and stupid in that regard.
Thank you so much! I enjoy a good, fluffy story from time to time that revolves entirely around romance and the dramas correlated with romance, but I feel like I've created a sort of brand on fanfic, and writing a long oneshot like that that only deals with issues of the heart would be shameful, you know? I feel like problems are bigger than us, bigger than our small annoyances, and worldly, and so I always like to tie my stories back to one issue of my choice that might perhaps resonate with a more diverse crowd. Mental illness, including an eating disorder, was my main purpose, not Percabeth. They are simply a vessel to deserve a message.
I'm glad that you think it's beautiful. I know the majority of people prefer the romantic problems lmao, and while I get that, and I get wanting to turn your brain off and read something with no real-life application or serious messages, I don't think I could ever bring myself to write a long oneshot or a multi-chapter story that doesn't expand past that romantic surface without feeling disappointed with myself. :P Annabeth's journey was definitely a struggle, but I'm happy for my readers, as I pointed out in my A/N. I mostly wrote the oneshot to sort of knock common sense into people who brush of mental illnesses, and compare pain, and diminish the hardships of so many, but I'm ecstatic that there's people out there who feel seen after reading my oneshot. I never really thought it would reach that point, or that it was even that good, but I'm relieved nonetheless. I hope they're all on a path to recovery, no matter what point in their life they currently dwell at. Thank you for writing another beautiful review.
And sorry for such a long response lol; I get carried away, as you already know. "Why do you always write like you're running out of time?" myself (if you get that reference)
rose-gardens-filled-with-thorn: This is my favorite thing ever. I always love seeing my readers' reactions change from chapter to chapter lmao. Drew's only Crown Princess because she's betrothed to Percy, otherwise she's just a Princess. The true Crown Princess by her own right is Silena, who already married Beckendorf, and they now rule Sumisu. Luke has no shot of ruling. He could most certainly rule if he married into another house, but there seems to be no other options. All the eldest siblings are either men, or the daughters have already married. It's part of the reason Medusa so's salty all the time lmao.
No, no you're good, my dude lol. I get just wanting the main ship together, and I love explaining this world to my readers. The first note is simply for my more anxious/frustrated readers who don't want to ask a million questions and would rather have all the answers at their fingertips.
Thank you so much for reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading! I promise the rest of the story is just as much of a mindfuck lol.
Guest: hERE AND QUEER (pls accept my sincerest apologies for the wait)
ForeverFangirl: I would say that no, Reyna and Thalia aren't a couple; they're just super close, but I'm not saying I'm not open to the idea. Personally, I've always seen them as single. In the canon series, I always liked Thaluke (obviously that's not possible in this story), and Reyna seemed very much straight, but I'm open to a lesbian relationship, if you're into that. We'll see how it goes. Let me know if you'd like them together, though. It might help be decide lol, and I might have to ask my other readers to see where to go from here.
Thank you so much for reading and for the praise that makes me only slightly uncomfortable. (Compliments? What are thoseeeee) I hope to see you next chapter as well!