A/N: I love how this chapter starts with hints about citrus stuff. (Are you proud of me yet, mom? ;)) And before y'all freak, it's not between Luke and Annabeth SO CALM YOSELVES.

Speaking of, everybody r-e-l-a-x. Annabeth and Percy loved Luke so much, and it crushed them when they found out they loved a version of Luke that didn't exist anymore, especially because Percy grew up looking out for his little brother back when Luke was genuine and untouched by Medusa's poisonous words, and Annabeth really believed he was going to change the world and that he was better than Percy. (Let's just think about that for a moment. Now imagine what he did to her. Exactly.)

Annabeth's obviously going to feel pity towards him and pain and hatred and everything in between. She's conflicted. She's seen the caring parts of him and also the most fucked up. (Let's see… he's branded her, left notes in corpses for her, killed Octavian, made Percy kill Poseidon w/ Medusa's help, and most important of all he TOOK HER HOSTAGE on her goddamn birthday). She gave a part of her to the him Medusa molded, a part she'll never get back, but you can see how she despises her pity for him every time it happens.

Just because her emotions are more complex than surface-level hatred doesn't mean she's hopelessly in love with Luke and that she's going to pull a 180; it doesn't mean that Luke and her are going to fall hopelessly in love with each other, and marry, and have lots of irritating little children, and live happily ever after in Thasite's cold, uninviting castle, mkay? So cHILL.

I should buy y'all a trampoline since you like jumping to conclusions so much. *sips tea*

Disclaimer: All rights remain. Also, beware of the Mean Girls reference lmao.

Drew

If someone had told her five years ago she'd be making out with a lover while a reception for dead ex-betrothed was being held, she would've told them they were crazy and then proceeded to drive her heel into their foot, just for extra measure.

Cecily's lips glided across her skin, soft and pliant under hers. Drew slipped her tongue into Cecily's mouth, engrossed in the way Cecily seemed to take her somewhere else, somewhere beautiful and untouched by worldly worries.

"You're fired up today," Cecily murmured against her mouth, the crimson of her lips curving up into a half-smile. Her eyes were half-lidded, barely peeking at Drew through the clouding bliss.

"I'm angry," Drew admitted, relishing the way in which Cecily writhed involuntarily, as if she couldn't help but try to scratch her way out of the mind-numbing pleasure.

Drew stilled as Cecily found her release, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Cecily pulled the covers up to her chin, and Drew found herself toying with the fiery locks, trying to escape the cage in her head.

"It's tomorrow, Cecily." No longer was she after Luke's crown. No, she would find another way for a crown of her own. She couldn't even force herself to marry Luke and be his Queen. The mere thought made her physically sick.

"I know," Cecily whispered. Heavy footsteps dragged across the marble outside the locked door, and Cecily stilled until they passed. They were somber. They were remembering Octavian, after all, though Drew suspected not one attendee was genuine, only there for show. Luke would probably speak, tugging at the heartstrings of the people like he always did.

It wasn't just the people. There was one girl in particular who could help her.

Drew sat up quickly, startling Cecily.

"Where are you going?" Cecily tiredly inquired.

Drew gently pushed her back down on the bed, allowing her to rest. "I'll be back soon," she promised, her voice stiff. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. Who better to make change than the girl who had eternally promised change with her death wish and leave of the Epresh throne?

Drew harriedly slipped her butterfly knives into the buckles around her slim waist, eager to make the of the future as she pleased.

Annabeth

Annabeth stepped over shards of glass—she had been smashing china again recently, and was promptly startled when the door swung open. Annabeth hopefully glanced up at the door, immediately on alert when she realized who it was.

Kitty disapprovingly eyed the Princess. Twig was half-asleep, and he didn't seem to care in the slightest, but all of a sudden he jolted forward, his expression twisting into anger. That was right. She had set them up last time.

Drew pattered into the cell, her footsteps quiet like mice.

Annabeth swallowed the rising bile. Drew. Who else? Annabeth's hand trailed up to her neck by itself. She squeezed lightly, her cold fingers awakening her. Was this the end? Would this be the rest of her life, wondering when her end would come, looking for sweet release in every opportunity? She had already contemplated it. Kitty and Twig would surely stop her from slicing herself to ribbons with the broken china, forever vigilant. Funny, she always used to think her greatest fear was being left alone. Now she was anything but, and she had never been more terrified. Besides, the Amazons would need her to survive, right? Maybe they didn't need her at all. She was disposable, just as Malcolm had warned her so long, still a King.

"What do you want from me?" Annabeth growled, glaring up at Drew.

Drew looked down her nose to scrutinize Annabeth's cage, her usual superior self in a long, glinting coat and tightly sewn leather leggings. She must have come from the arena. For a moment Drew stood still, and both young women traded glances in the silence.

"Are you so dangerous that they cannot even allow you to open a window?" She sniffed the air and didn't answer Annabeth's question. "It's musty here. Or maybe it's just you."

Annabeth's tightened muscles relaxed a little. "So you're bored," she muttered. "Go rattle someone else's cage."

"Funny," Drew dryly remarked, finally looking at Annabeth seriously. "But for now, you're going to be useful."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I don't feel like being your doormat right now, Drew."

"Sucks," she snipped. Without another word, she reached through the cage, slamming Annabeth against the hard metal. The blonde resisted a groan of pain, unwilling to bend to Drew's will and thirst for power.

Kitty was getting antsy, uncomfortable by Tanaka's easy actions. It was clear she did not care about any repercussions of being here, not even after Luke publically called her out. She was fearless, and Annabeth wasn't sure if that made Drew more dangerous or simply foolish. Annabeth could feel her forearm bruising at Drew's tight grip.

"Let go," Annabeth bit out, but Drew was undeterred.

"Open it up," the Raya demanded, irritated.

"We can't do that," Twig spat.

"Your loyalty to King Luke is admirable," Drew drawled, and Twig's face went red at her mockery, "but she has business to do. Don't make me ask again."

Twig cursed. "With all due respect," he paused to shoot her an ugly sneer, "His Highness is much more formidable than you."

Annabeth saw it before she could say anything. If she had blinked, she would have entirely missed it. Lodged in Twig's chest was none other than one of Drew's metallic butterfly knives. She hadn't even seen the Princess move. Fear spiked through Annabeth, unlike anything she'd ever known.

Kitty paled. "Any more complaints?" Drew's eyes glittered. She twirled the keys she'd plucked off Twig's dead body around her index finger like a chakra. Kitty hastily unlocked Annabeth's cage, but Annabeth felt more caged with Drew's iron palm around her thin skin than in the actual cage.

"Like I said, you'll be useful." Drew nodded at Annabeth, practically dragging her out the door. Kitty didn't dare follow.

Annabeth didn't struggle. There was no point to it. Eventually Drew loosened her tight, pale fingers and let Annabeth walk without the pinch of her hand.

"If you wanted to take the pet for a walk, all you had to do was ask," Annabeth growled at her, massaging her newest bruise. "Don't you have a new rival to hate? Or is it easier to pick on a prisoner rather than a Princess?" she taunted.

"Katie is far too calm for my liking," Drew shot back. "You still have some bite, at least." Annabeth slowly soaked in the information; Drew never disappointed to drop small tidbits, but Drew wasn't careless in the least. Annabeth figured she simply didn't care enough to shield information from her. Katie… as in Katie Gardner? So that was who Luke was engaged to. She struggled to recall where Katie came from. A princess from a European country surely. Annabeth didn't remember the name too well.

"Good to know I amuse you," Annabeth retorted. The passage twisted in front of them. Left, right, right. The blueprint of Thasite's castle sharpened in her mind's eye. They passed the tsunami tapestries in blue and white, edges studded with real gemstones.

Then a gallery of statues and paintings dedicated to the Calbournes. The halls became more ornate, but with fewer public displays of opulence as Drew led her to the royal residences. An increasing number of gilded paintings of Kings, politicians, and warriors watched them go, most of them with the characteristic Calbourne sea-green eyes. They made her heart ache, reminding her of the King-to-be back at the base.

"Has King Luke let you keep your rooms, at least? Even though he took your crown?" Annabeth remarked. Luke and his mother had taken Drew's status and engagement to Percy too with this grand scheme of theirs.

Drew's lips twisted into a smirk, not a scowl. "See? You never disappoint. All bite, Annabeth Chase."

Annabeth had never been to these doors before, but she could guess where they led. They were much too grand to be for anyone but a King. Whie lacquered wood, marble trim, inlaid with mother of pearl and sapphire and turquoise. Drew didn't knock this time and threw the doors open, only to find an opulent antechamber lined by six guards. They bristled at Annabeth and Drew's presence, hands straying to weapons, eyes sharp.

Drew didn't balk. "Tell the King Annabeth Chase is here to see him."

"The King is indisposed," one answered. "Be gone, Lady Tanaka Raya."

Drew showed no fear and ran a hand through her long raven braid. "Tell him," she said again. She didn't have to drop her voice or snarl to be threatening. "He'll want to know."

Annabeth's heart pounded in her chest. What was Drew doing? Why? The last time she decided to parade her around the castle, she ended up at the mercy of Kronos Calbourne, Annabeth's mind split open for him to sift through. Drew had an agenda. She had motives. If only Annabeth knew what they were, so she could've done the exact opposite.

One of the guards broke before she did. "A moment, my Lady."

Annabeth couldn't stand Luke's chambers. Just being there felt like stepping into quicksand, plunging into the ocean, falling off a cliff. Send us away, send us away, Annabeth internally pleaded.

The guard returned quickly. When he waved off his comrades, Annabeth's stomach dropped. "This way, Ashington." He beckoned to her.

Drew gave her the slightest nudge, putting pressure on the base of her spine, perfectly executed. Annabeth lurched forward.

It would've been easier if someone dragged her. If the guard put a gun to her head and forced her to walk through. Blaming her moving feet on another person would've hurt less. Instead it was only her. Boredom. Morbid curiosity. The constant ache of pain and loneliness. Annabeth lived in a shrinking world where the only thing she could trust was Luke's obsession. Like the manacles, it was a shield and a slow, smothering death.

The doors swung inward, gliding over white marble tile. Steam spiraled on the air, not from the King himself, but hot water. It was boiling lazily around him, milky with soap and scented oils. Unlike his bed, the bath was large, standing on clawed metal feet. He rested an elbow on either side of the flawless porcelain, fingers trailing carelessly through the swirling water.

Luke tracked her as she entered, his eyes electric and lethal. Annabeth had never seen him so off guard and so angry. A smarter girl would've turned and ran. Instead, Annabeth shut the door behind her.

There were no seats, so she remained standing. She wasn't sure where to look, so Annabeth focused on his face. His hair was mussed, soaking wet. Blond curls clung to his skin.

"I'm busy," he whispered.

"You didn't have to let me in." Annabeth wished she could swallow the words as soon as she spoke them.

"Yes I did," he said, meaning all things. Then he blinked, breaking his stare. He leaned back, tipping his head against the tub so he could stare up at the ceiling. "What do you need?"

A way out, forgiveness, a good night's sleep, my family. The list stretched on, endless.

"Drew dragged me here. I don't want anything from you."

He made a noise low in his throat. Almost a laugh. "Drew. My guards are cowards."

If Luke was her friend, Annabeth would have warned him not to underestimate a daughter of House Raya. Instead, she held her tongue. The steam stuck to her skin, feverish as hot flesh.

"She brought you here to convince me," he said.

"To do what?"

"Marry Katie, don't marry Katie. She certainly didn't send you in here for a tea party."

"No," Annabeth agreed. Drew would keep scheming for a Queen's crown up until the second Luke put it on another girl's head. It was what she was made for. Just like Luke was made for other, more horrible things.

"She thinks what I feel for you can cloud my judgement. Foolish."

Annabeth flinched. The brand on her collarbone seared.

"Heard you started smashing things again," he continued.

"You have bad taste in china."

He grinned at the ceiling. A crooked smile. Like his brother's. For a second, Luke's face became Percy's, their features shifting. With a jolt, Annabeth realized she had been here longer than she even knew Percy. She knew Luke's face better than his.

He shifted, making the water ripple as he dandled an arm out of the bath. Annabeth wrenched her eyes away, looking down at the tile. She didn't want to see more of Luke than she must. Again she felt herself on the edge of quicksand.

"The wedding is tomorrow," he finally said. His voice echoed off the marble. "The Gardners are not known for their patience."

Annabeth scoffed. "And House Raya is?"

A corner of his mouth lifted in the ghost of that crooked smile. He fiddled with one of his rings, slowly spinning the circle around his fine-boned fingers. "They have their uses."

"I thought Drew would have turned you into a pincushion by now."

His smile spread. "If she kills me, she loses whatever chance she thinks she has, however fleeting. Not that her relatives would ever allow it. House Raya maintains a position of great power, even if she isn't Queen. But what a Queen she would have made."

"I can only imagine." The thought shuddered through her. Crowns of needles and daggers and razors, dressed in jeweled snakes and her parents, had they been alive, holding Luke's puppet strings.

"I can't," he admitted. "Not really. Even now, I only ever see her as Percy's Queen." His brother's name in his mouth was natural, devoid of poison. Annabeth shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"You didn't have to choose Drew or even Katie after you framed him—"

"Well, I couldn't exactly choose the person I wanted, could I?" he snapped.

Instead of heat, Annabeth felt the air around them turn cold, cold enough to make goosebumps prickle across her skin as he glared at her, his eyes a livid, burning blue. The steam on the air cleared on the current cooler air, removing the faint barrier between them.

Shivering, Annabeth forced herself to the closest window, putting her back to him. Outside, the trees shuddered on a light breeze, their green leaves dewy in the sunset's light. Such simple beauty had no place here without the corruption of blood or ambition or betrayal.

"You threw me into a cage to die," she told him slowly. As if either of them would have forgotten. "You keep me chained up in your palace, guarded night and day. You let me waste away, sick—"

"You think I enjoy seeing you like this?" he murmured. "You think I want to keep you a prisoner?" Something hitched in his breath. "It's the only way you'll stay with me." Water sloshed over his hands as he drew them back and forth.

Annabeth focused on the sound instead of his voice. Even though she knew what he was doing, even though she could feel his metaphorical grip on her tightening, she couldn't stop it from pulling her under. It would be too easy to let herself drown. Part of her wanted to. She kept her eyes on the window.

"You tried to murder everyone I care about. You killed children." A baby, bloodstained, a note in its little fist. She remembered it so vividly it could've been a nightmare. She didn't try to force the image away. She needed to remember it. She needed to remember what he was. "Because of you, my friend is dead." An image of Jason spun in her head.

Annabeth spun to him, barking out a harsh, vengeful laugh. Anger cleared her head.

He sat up sharply, his naked torso almost as white as the bathwater.

"And you killed my mother. You took my brother. You took my father. The second you fell into this world eighteen years ago, the wheels were in motion. My mother looked into your heart and saw opportunity. She saw a chance she had been looking for forever. If you hadn't—if you had never—" He stumbled, the words coming faster than he could stop them. Then he grit his teeth, clamping down on anything more damning. Another breath of silence. "I don't want to know what would have been."

"I know," Annabeth snarled. "I would've ended up in a trench, obliterated or torn apart of barely surviving as the walking dead. I know what I would have become, because I fight with the people who would have torn me apart." The Amazons.

"Knowing what you know now… would you go back? Would you choose that life? Your family, some other betrothed, your frustrating council meetings and being dismissed by late Frederick?"

Luke let her think, his eyes thoughtful as he watched the emotions rise in her face. He always let her think. Sometimes his silence was better than anyone else's words.

So many were dead because of her, because of who she was. If she were just a Princess, just angry Annabeth Chase, they would've been alive. Jason would've been alive. Her thoughts hinged on him. She would trade so many things to have him back. She would've traded herself a thousand times. But then there were the people found and saved, rebellions aided, a war ended, royals tearing at one another, the people uniting. She had had a hand in all of it, however small. Mistakes were made. Her mistakes. Too many to count. She was worlds away from perfect, or even good. The true question ate at her brain, what Luke was really asking. Would she give up her power, her fight, to go back? She didn't need time to figure out an answer.

"No," Annabeth whispered. She didn't remember moving so close to him, her hand closing on one side of the porcelain bath. "No, I wouldn't."

The confession choked worse than the sea, eating at her insides. Annabeth hated him for what he made her feel, what he made her realize. She wondered if she could move fast enough to incapacitate him, clench a fist, bust his jaw with the hard manacle. Can healers regrow teeth? No real point in trying. She wouldn't have lived long enough to find out.

He stared up at her. "Those who know what it's like in the dark will do anything to stay in the light."

"Don't act like we're the same."

"The same? No." He shook his head. "But perhaps… we're even."

"Even?" Again she wanted to tear him apart, use her nails, her teeth to rip his throat. The insinuation cut almost as much as the fact that he might've been right.

"I used to ask Tiresias if he could see futures that no longer exist." Annabeth sucked in a breath. That was right. When Tiresias had led her to mistakenly let Jason die, he had betrayed her for Luke's favor. He had been one of Luke's court, surely. "He said paths were always changing, an easy lie. It let him manipulate me in a way even the Rayas couldn't. And when he led me to you, well, I didn't argue. How was I supposed to know what poison you would be?"

"If I'm poison, then get rid of me. Stop torturing us both!"

"You know I can't do that, no matter how much I may want to." His lashes flickered, and his eyes went far away. Somewhere even Annabeth couldn't reach him.

"You're like Iris was. You are the only person I care about, the only person who reminds me I am alive. Not empty. And not alone."

Alive. Not empty. Not alone.

Each confession was an arrow, piercing every nerve ending until Annabeth's body turned to cold fire. She hated that Luke could say such things. She hated that he felt what she felt, feared what she feared. She hated it; she hated it. And if she could've changed who she was, how she thought, she would've. But she couldn't. If the gods were real, they certainly knew how she'd tried.

"Tiresias would not tell me about the dead futures—the ones no longer possible. I think about them, though," he mumbled. "A Calbourne King, an Ashington Queen. How would things have changed? How many would still be alive?"

"Not your father. Not Percy. And certainly not me."

"I know it's just a dream, Annabeth," he snapped like a child corrected in the classroom. "Any window we had, however small, is gone."

"Because of you."

"Yes." Soften, an admission of his own. "Yes."

Never breaking eye contact, Luke slipped the rings from his index finger. It was slow, deliberate, methodic. She heard it hit the floor and roll, metal ringing against the marble. Still watching, he leaned back in the bath and tipped his head, exposing his neck. At her side, Annabeth's hands twitched. It would be so easy, wrap her tan fingers around his pale neck, put all her weight into it, pin him down. She could drown him, kill him, let the bathwater boil them both. He dared her to do it. Part of him might've wanted her to do it, or it could've been one of the thousands of traps she'd fallen for, another trick of Luke Castellan Calbourne.

He blinked and exhaled, letting go of something deep inside himself. It broke the spell, and the moment shattered.

"You'll be one of Katie's ladies tomorrow. Enjoy yourself."

One more arrow to the gut.

Annabeth wished for another glass to smash against the wall. A lady-in-waiting for the wedding of the century, no chance of slipping away. She would have to stand before the entire court, eyes everywhere. She wanted to scream.

Use the anger. Use the rage, she tried to tell herself. Instead, it just consumed her and turned to despair.

Luke just gestured lazily with an open hand. "There's the door."

She tried not to look back as she went, but she couldn't help herself. Luke stared at the ceiling, his eyes empty, and she heard Chiron in her head, whispering the words he'd written in the many books Luke had left her.

Not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed.

Nico

"Fuck me."

Malcolm blinked up at him owlishly, but Will was unperturbed. He was used to Nico's little 'slips.' They happened an awful lot in the dark of the night for other reasons.

"Excuse me?" Malcolm was horrified, and Nico tried his best to hide a blush because he could feel Will smiling next to him, and he was almost certain Will would jump at the opportunity or say something inappropriate or—

"Even dead, the Duke's caused so many issues," Nico hastily offered an explanation for his outburst, relieved when Malcolm's expression relaxed.

"You can just call him a bastard," Malcolm muttered. "I'm not going to chew your head off for insulting the buffoon who tortured my sister."

Silence lingered in the air, and Nico knew they were all thinking of the other boy whose grasp she was currently in.

"I got it," Percy gasped, walking in through the heavy doors of Malcolm's bedroom at the Epresh castle. The castle was noisier than Nico remembered, and he knew it was because Epresh had recently adopted democracy and sided with the Amazons per Annabeth's request.

Malcolm was no longer a King. Nico still found it odd to see him without a crown and to not respectfully refer to him as one, given that he was also a few years his senior and Percy's too. In fact, he was the youngest one here again. Malcolm was nineteen, nearly twenty, Percy had just recently turned nineteen a few days ago—a depressing birthday, and one that Percy had ignored himself, Will was about two months older than him, and then Nico was simply sixteen, yet he didn't feel out of place. Percy was a good friend, Will was more than that, and Malcolm was distant, yet familiar, seeing as he grew up alongside all the royals, seeing them at each and every ceremony.

The blood on Percy's face starkly stood out on his smooth tan, reminding Nico of where they were and why.

Piper had sent Will, Percy, and Nico all to Epresh to investigate Octavian's products of his immortality experiments. It was harder without Annabeth. She had all the math and science in her brain, and she knew exactly what was going on. They were simply left to pick at the scraps of information she'd left scattered and attempt to decipher the blonde's thinking. Naturally, Malcolm had the closest brain, and so Nico had suggested seeking out the assistance of her older brother.

Percy dumped a heavy body onto the wooden table before them, snapping the young Pevanshire out of his daydreams disguised as nightmares.

Malcolm critically analyzed the monster in front of them.

"You couldn't keep the head intact?" Nico inquired in disgustion, peering at the sopping wet Siren.

"She got too close," Percy weakly apologized as Will fussed over him, cleaning the gash and bandaging his face.

"I offered to do it," Nico protested.

Will glared at him, momentarily looking away from Percy to really land his point. "We both know Percy's better with water," he quipped and then rather harshly dabbed at Percy's blood—enough to make the green-eyed man wince.

Nico rolled his eyes. He had offered because he was gay, duh. Sirens' pretty faces had diminished effects on him, and even with Malcolm's bulletproof ear-plugs, there were still more risks for Percy to slaughter the sea creature. There was still some seaweed draped in her auburn hair, and Malcolm cautiously flicked it off with the edge of his sword, refusing to touch it with his hands.

As the four young men hovered over her corpse, Nico found himself amused by the other three's determination to ignore the elephant in the room: the siren was, of course, adorned in nothing more than her birthday suit. The myths stated that they would tempt sailors, causing them to crash their ships into the rocks and sink, and Nico was sure that her nakedness was part of it.

Percy discreetly covered torso with a nearby cloth, nearly sending Nico over the edge. He really shouldn't have found it as funny as he did, but he'd always had a rather crude, dark sense of humor. A dead siren was not exempt from his jokes.

Malcolm coughed awkwardly at Percy's actions, and Nico bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Being caught smirking at a dead body probably wouldn't bode well for him, even if it was a monster and unable to classify as human with emotions or anything of that sort.

As if Will could sense his line of thought, the blond harshly yet subtly stomped on the front of his toes, and Nico squeezed the hilt of his sword, not willing to screech and give Will the satisfaction.

Through their discoveries, they had realized Octavian had been trying to raise dead armies to become even stronger. He had tested his formulas on animals, and they went rogue, morphing into Greek monsters and massacring people. It was why he had sought the secret to immortality, and the answer had died with him. The only other person who knew the truth, the full and complete truth with all the formulas and the key to immortality was locked in the Calbourne King's cell. The memory made Nico's mouth twist, a sour taste running through him.

"We should investigate her heart," Malcolm declared as he set her goopy, somewhat mangled, brain off to the side. Will had excavated it—he was a certified surgeon and doctor, of course—but Malcolm knew what to look for. He had done as much research as possible on immortality before their get-together. And Nico and Percy…they were simply there to hunt and kill creatures and drag them back for their scientific counterparts to inspect. Oh, and Nico liked to make snarky commentary too.

There was an awkward silence. Taking out the heart would mean taking off the cloth currently covering her bosom. And probably groping the corpse in the process just to remove flesh and scales.

"I'll do it," Will hesitantly offered.

Nico smirked. Of course he'd do it. Malcolm would find it indecent. Heterosexuals were so weird, Nico decided, unaffected by the siren's pale figure. Will, on the other hand, much like Nico, was too gay to function.

"I'll help. Just tell me what to do," Nico instructed Dr. Solace. Nico was mildly amused by the thought. I'm too gay to function, he inwardly confirmed, liking the sound of it the more he thought of it.

All of a sudden, all heads turned to him. Will was horrified, and Percy's mouth hung slightly open, clearly taken off guard. Malcolm coughed, surprised, his grey eyes wide.

Nico's face set aflame, the bright red lighting up his white face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit. He did not just say that out loud. He wasn't exactly prone to outbursts like that, but honestly after killing two or three of these monsters, his brain was fried, and he wasn't thinking straight—not that he ever really was, and he hadn't meant for his snarky commentary to come out of his mouth.

"Nico!" Will reprimanded, shakily dropping the surgical knife. It fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Did you just—" Percy cut himself off. He didn't look mad. At least, Nico hoped he wasn't.

This really wasn't how he'd planned to out himself. Who was he kidding? He hadn't planned to out himself ever. Maybe he'd put it on his grave. He wasn't ready for this. Annabeth was the only one who was ever supposed to know… not Percy, his childhood friend, or Malcolm, a proper citizen and esteemed young man who always followed the rules and did as his parents had said.

Nico's mouth opened and closed like fish. He glanced wistfully down at the siren, wishing it was him gutted and splayed all over the table instead.

"You just—" Percy tried again.

"—no," Nico quickly interrupted, finding his shaky voice. Will's hands were steady like a surgeon, but he was deeply afraid. What would happen next? Would they be forced into hiding? Executed? Publicly shamed? It was like all his worst nightmares were all coming true.

"You just said you 'were too gay to function!'" Percy repeated, accusing.

Nico winced at his words in Percy's mouth, words that really should've never been said out loud. Someone might as well have just shot him then. It was better than this.

"He's joking," Will desperately cut in. "You know Nico, always making weird jokes."

Percy doubtfully glanced between them. They were standing three feet further apart than they had been initially. "No…" Percy trailed off, calling Will's lie. Nico flinched. "Nico doesn't joke like this. He jokes about his demise, not being a… um… being…"

"Homosexual," Malcolm cut in, finishing Percy's sentence for him. When the Ashington analyzed him, Nico found himself shrinking. He felt like he was under a microscope, the new monster.

Percy opened his mouth to say something but—

"Don't you dare," Will beat him to it.

Nico looked up at his love, anxious. Don't do it, he silently pleaded.

Will didn't look at him. Fuck, Nico seethed. He was going to—

"Nico's not the only one," Will continued.

Fuck! He wanted to beg Will to shut the fuck up.

"And he's not any different than you already know just because of this new tidbit of information," Will continued. Well, at least he hadn't also outed himself. Nico found a small solace in that. At least if he went down, they wouldn't murder Will with him. "Personally, I think the countries are fucked up for this hatred. Did you know that the Canadians fully accept homosexuality? As do the Amazons, obviously."

Percy and Malcolm shared a brief look before looking back at Will. Will's hand was trembling as he spoke, and he subconsciously took a step before Nico, protective. Nico wanted Will to back up before he got hurt, wanted him to stop putting himself between them to protect him. Will was his priority; he could not allow anything to happen to him.

"Homosexuality isn't a sin," Will declared, his voice quivering.

Nico reached for his sword for comfort. The familiar leather hilt did nothing, however, to soothe his fears.

"Will…" Percy began, but Will quickly cut him off.

"No!" Will's voice wavered with rage, and Nico glanced at him, concerned. Will was a difficult one to anger. "I've seen the fear on their faces, the entire community, as they try to hide themselves from you people," he spat, disgusted. His arm spread, shielding Nico with his entire body now. Will was head shorter than Percy and Malcolm, but he did not move, planting his feet firmly on the ground. "It's disgusting!" Will ranted. "The way you instill fear in them! Nico nearly married a woman because of your unpleasant, disturbing heterosexual ideals! He's too proud to admit it, too brave, but I know. I know he must fear for himself and his reputation every moment of his life. He's sixteen, do you understand me? And he fears for his, not because of the wars, not because of his position, not because so many people like Octavian are thirsty to have his head, but because he doesn't love a female. Do you see how bizarre that is? Are you so thick-headed that you cannot admit when you are wrong?"

Nico stepped backwards, unable to bear the scene unfolding before him. This was too much, this was too much, this was too—they would kill Will, not only for standing up for him, but for openly supporting LGBTQ+ rights, for calling them—ex-royals and beloved faces in the public eye—idiots.

"Will," Nico weakly protested.

"No!" Will spun on him, infuriated. "Stay out of this, Nico. You're in no wrong; there is nothing wrong with you. Don't you dare let them stomp all over you again!"

Nico's mouth fell ajar, surprised to be snapped at by Will. Will spun back around, glaring up at Malcolm and Percy.

Nico watched Percy's slender fingers carefully. The Calbourne was discreetly reaching for Riptide, and Nico had a feeling it was more because of how enraged Will was, how out of control he was getting, not as much what he was saying. Or at least Nico hoped so. He couldn't even begin to fathom Percy wanting to kill Will for defending his sexual orientation. Nico reached for his own sword, ready to fight Perseus to save Will from the consequences of his rash words.

"Don't you dare!" Nico found his voice before Will could say anything. He glared at Percy, unsheathing his own sword. He shoved Will out of the way, holding up his stygian sword defensively.

Percy had Riptide out in the blink of an eye, startled by Nico's sudden movement. He also held his sword lightly, only in a defensive pose. Malcolm was unarmed, but he held his pen wickedly, also in defense, though Percy had already side-stepped in front of him to protect him.

"Relax, Nico—" Percy tried.

"—no! Don't hurt Will; he doesn't know better!" Nico felt strangled. "It's not his fault! He doesn't mean to offend you."

"Yes, I do!" Will snapped.

"Will!" Nico berated. "Let it go!" he demanded. "You cannot fight popular opinion and all of society."

"But—"

"I said let. It. Go," Nico growled, his eyes trained on Percy. He had fought him only once before in an arena for practice, and they had called a truce before things could get out of control. In all honesty, Nico thought Percy would win if it really came to it. He was older, taller, stronger, but Nico was faster. His small frame made him nimble and quick.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Percy cautiously said, but he didn't drop his sword, his arm still outstretched in defense.

"Then why would you grab your sword?" Nico accused, infuriated, mostly at himself for letting his stupid secret slip, for being this way.

"Because Will was getting aggravated!" Percy argued. "I didn't know what he'd do!"

Nico laughed, but it was hollow. "Will would never hurt you. You and I both know that."

"How am I supposed to know that?" Percy spat. "I don't even know him, and apparently I don't even know you! And you don't even know me."

Nico faltered. It hurt more than he had anticipated. "You do! You've been there since the beginning, Percy. This changes nothing."

"Everyone calm down," Malcolm tried, his chest heaving in fear at how quickly things were escalating. He reached out to soothe Percy, but Percy shrugged him off.

Will tried to force Nico to let go of his sword, but Nico brushed him away. This was between him and Percy.

"No, you idiot!" Percy was exasperated and frustrated.

"Percy!" Malcolm barked, enraged and horrified by Percy's rude outburst. Will's mouth fell open at Percy's hostile tone, and his expression slowly twisted into irritation. He went to pull Nico back again, but Nico stubbornly pushed him away.

Percy dropped his sword to the floor, though, and Nico stared at him in surprise, shocked by how easily Percy would surrender. "You don't know me at all!" he snapped. "You don't know me because if you did, you would've just told me."

"How—!" Nico stopped himself from screaming back out of habit when Percy's words slammed into him as he comprehended it. Nico lowered his sword, looking up at the Calbourne in complete and utter confusion. "If I just… if I what?" He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He stood up straight, considering the boy in front of him.

"If you'd just told me," Percy repeated, sighing now. Malcolm put one hand on his shoulder, holding him away from Nico. "Don't you know me at all?" he emptily voiced. "Sure, it's… it's not what I expected," Percy truthfully admitted. His eyes flickered between him and Will. "But you're my friend, no matter what."

Nico blinked at him, at a loss for words. He dumbly stared at him.

"And I'm… I'm learning anew," Percy explained, clearing his throat. "I'm not my father." Silence lingered around them all at his quiet admission. It was what they thought but never said. It was implied. It was as depressing as it was absolving. Percy, however, continued without another falter.

"Democracy is a new thing for me, as it is for you. Annabeth," he chuckled humorlessly, "she's the one who brought us all together." Malcolm dropped his head at her name. "She instilled democracy in us, and the Amazon and Canadian ideals. "Homosexuality is new too, and it isn't a sin," Percy breathed, testing the words on his tongue, and it felt like a breath of fresh air for Nico. "And I know I've been taught differently, just like you." He nodded at Nico. "And you," he whispered, glancing at Malcolm. Will pressed his lips together in quiet understanding. "But with our countries, we grow too. And this shall grow too," he murmured.

Percy lifted his head, seeking Nico's gaze desperately. They locked eyes. "I've learned a lot through the years," Percy began, and Nico felt like they were the only two in the room. "And as tough of a pill as it is to swallow, I've learned that the royals weren't always right. It's hard to know the father I idolized, and the life I so desperately wanted to live up to are both half-lies. But with the new knowledge, I also know that some of their values are hateful, and I don't agree with them anymore. I'm thinking for myself."

Nico's heart squeezed painfully. 'Me too,' he mouthed, and Percy laughed a little, smiling easily at Nico like he used to when they were younger. That was the very smile that had caused Nico to fall in love with him in the first place, and even though he didn't feel that way anymore, it still made Nico's chest clench.

"It's strange for me; I won't lie," Percy conceded. "But nothing you do or say could ever make you less in my eyes. Okay?" Percy's voice was gentle, hesitant. "I just wish you'd told me. I wish you'd trusted me enough to know that our bond is stronger than royal ideals."

"The royal ideals are what threw you and Annabeth into exilation," Nico pointed out. "It is proven to be enough to tear people apart."

Percy shook his head. "But we're not my step-mother. We're not Medusa." Percy spat her name like it tasted disgusting in his mouth. "We're more progressive, and I love you a whole lot more than Medusa ever was capable of, the evil witch. You're like a brother to me."

There was a lump in Nico's throat. "Shut up." Percy would make him cry, and then he would have to murder him.

Percy smiled, but it resembled a grimace. "How bad would you kill me if I hugged you?"

"I'll murder you in cold blood," Nico threatened in affirmation. "Chop you up into little pieces until your stupid face is unrecognizable." He cleverly alluded to the Greek myths.

"I'll take my chances." Percy pulled him into a bear-hug, and it was odd because they weren't supposed to show affection, but Percy was comforting and warm and everything Nico missed so badly. Nico felt reluctantly tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and he blinked desperately to make the teardrops disappear back into his eyes. He had been so afraid, more than he would ever admit. He couldn't lose Percy either. He'd lost too many. Percy's acceptance was the greatest gift he could've ever asked for, and he knew Percy would be slightly uncomfortable for some time until he truly came to terms with it, but he was trying, and Nico appreciated it.

"We should probably check out the siren now," Nico quietly mentioned. Will put a hand on his shoulder, comforting him.

"First—" Malcolm interrupted, reaching out to hold Nico back and examine him. Nico flinched back, but he allowed Malcolm to touch him. "Any friend of Annabeth's is a friend of mine," said Malcolm, looking down at him seriously. "I agree with Percy. It's not familiar to me, but I'm willing to learn. You're more than your orientation," Malcolm comforted.

Nico was trying his damndest not to cry now. Malcolm too? He wanted to hug Will and just breathe and love life like he never had before. Nico nodded stiffly, veiling his emotions carefully.

"Now the siren." Malcolm eagerly turned to the creature. "Will, if you'll do the honors."

"Gladly." Will made a small incision before neatly cutting across her chest to open her up. "Oh, and I'm gay too," he announced cheerily. Nico figured it was because he found joy in cutting people open. Oh, and he was crazy. His crazy. Nico rolled his eyes.

Percy gestured to the siren. "Then by all means. Her nakedness is not something I'd like to see."

Malcolm grinned at him begrudgingly, and Percy stifled a laugh in response. Some of Malcolm's mannerisms were so similar to his sister's that it was uncanny. They even smiled the same way, no teeth showing, just their lips stretched across their faces, their eyes lighting up with humor.

The air was lighter now, filled with understanding and love, and Nico was content to sit back with Percy and allow Will to work his way through the thick flesh, Malcolm writing out notes as they worked.

"I'm thinking a minotaur next," Percy commented next to him, sipping on some water. He must've been tired after fighting the siren. His hair was still shiny with dampness.

Nico hummed in agreement, his eyes trained on Will and the adorable expression of concentration on his face. "Just for the record, I would've kicked your ass in a swordfight."

Percy scoffed. "No way."

"Way."

"We'll settle this later," Percy decided. "In the arena back at the Amazon base."

Nico sheathed his sword, accepting the water Percy offered. "You're on."

"So is Will really a friend or…?" Percy inquired casually, and Nico shot him a withering glare. Percy held his hands up in surrender.

"I swear to god, Jackson…"

Annabeth

Annabeth hated how much she loved the gold dress. The sleeves were short and sheer, hugging her lean muscles, baring the biting chains around her wrists to the world. Luke had arranged it purposefully, she had no doubt, had wanted to advertise that she was nothing more than a prisoner: a valuable, numb prisoner. But even with her lack of freedom on display, she adored the lustrous fabric. Luke, she had noticed, liked to order for her to be in gold when she would be casted under the royal eye, like he wanted to remind his allies and enemies of all she stood for.

The fabric dipped at her chest, exposing her smooth collarbone. The 'L' stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no other jewelry save for her earrings, only the shiny collar choker around her neck, but the maids had dressed her up for show. She was a puppet, after all. Her eyelids shimmered with gold, as did her cheekbones, and above her eyebrows and down her neck trailed painted and pasted gold leaves. Heavy sun earrings dangled from her earlobes, a gold phoenix curled around the outer cartilage.

Annabeth hadn't been this dressed up since the ball. That could only mean one thing: today was important. The familiar dread pooled in the pit of her stomach.

She resisted the urge to tear the dress to shreds as she had done with so many others time and time again. She didn't want to be a puppet; she only wore these riches on her own time, in her own castle, with her own freedom. Besides, he would just send the maids scurrying about for a new one. Annabeth wasn't cruel enough to punish the staff for this insanity.

She sat nervously on the ground near Luke's throne, the heels clicking against the floor under the sleek floor-length skirt as she tapped her foot. She itched to fiddle with something, but there was nothing. No rings, no necklaces, no bracelets, nothing to ease her tension.

"Guard Haven."

It wasn't a question. It was never a question when Luke spoke. The clinking of glasses and calculated voices died to a dull whisper before falling silent entirely. They were drinking for his wedding, waiting for Annabeth to go live on camera, to say his words for him. A few intrusive eyes landed on her, including the mysterious Katie Gardner—with her brown hair, jade-green eyes with chocolate rings around the irises, and tan skin—Luke was to be wed to, but most were on the guard. It was Annabeth's only respite that here, in this cage Luke had built her, she was shielded from the eyes of all else. She was safe, in a strange way. Not safe from him, but everyone else. No one would dare touch her when Luke had claimed her for his own with the collar around her neck. The metal felt cold now against her thin, weakened skin.

"My King," Kitty managed through gritted teeth. "I found this intruder sneaking through the aqueducts a few hours ago." With the flick of her wrist, Kitty uncovered the black cloth shielding the hostage before the royal court.

Luke had brought her here to issue a public statement. And she would. He had given her guards a piece of paper last night, and handwritten were the loopy letters of a speech, a speech he willed her to memorize. Just the idea of saying words in front of cameras that were not hers made her sick to her stomach, but she was forced to play her part, the pawn as always.

The hostage was not who she had expected, however.

"Hylla," Annabeth heard herself gasp. The young woman dared look up, eyes wide and familiar but not scared. Annabeth remembered being recruited by her sister Reyna, remembered meeting her, remembered seeing her under Percy's torture in that cell where Zoe had died so long ago. She was a general. What on earth was she doing here, captured by Luke's people? A sickening feeling thrummed through Annabeth's veins. She could only assume Hylla had come to save her, a month after her initial imprisonment, whether by Amazon orders or by her own free will or Percy's insistence—the Amazons were surely keeping him from coming to her rescue himself; he was far too valuable—Annabeth didn't know.

Annabeth would've ran to embrace her if that were remotely possible.

Instead, she fell to her knees, her hands latching onto Luke's wrist. She begged like she had only once before, her lungs full of ash and cold air, her head still spinning from the controlled crash of a jet.

The dress ripped along a seam. It was not for kneeling, not like her.

"Please, Luke. Don't kill her," Annabeth asked of him, gulping at air, grasping at whatever she could to save Hylla's life. "She can be used; she is valuable."

He pushed her away, his palm against her brand. "She is a spy in my court. Aren't you?"

Still Annabeth begged, speaking before Hylla's smart mouth could get her well and truly killed. And for once, she hoped the cameras were still watching.

"She has been betrayed, lied to, misled by the Amazons. It's not her fault!" Annabeth lied. It was the essence of the speech Luke had written for her anyways.

The King did not condesend to stand, not even for a murder at his feet. Annabeth tasted bitter, metallic blood, blood she could only assume was her own. He was afraid to leave his throne, to make a decision beyond its circle of empty comfort and safety. "The rules of war are clear. Spies are to be dealt with swiftly."

"When you are sick, who do you blame?" Annabeth demanded. "Your body or the disease?"

He glared down at her, and Annabeth felt hollow. "You blame the cure that didn't work."

"Luke, I am begging you…" Annabeth didn't remember starting to cry, but of course she was. They were shameful tears because she wept for herself as well as Hylla. This was the beginning of a rescue. This was for her. Hylla was her chance.

Her vision blurred, fogging the edge of her sight. Kronos raised a sword, eager to dive into what Hylla knew, to interrogate her. Annabeth wondered how devastating this would be to the Amazons—and how stupid they were to this. What a risk, what a waste.

"Ascend. For gold and glory," Hylla muttered, spitting.

She threw an image into the air, albeit a crumpled image. It was a face they all recognized.

Kronos fell back a half step, surprised, while Luke gave a strangled sort of cry.

Medusa stared back at them from the paper, a living ghost. Her face was mangled, destroyed by blades. One eye was gone, the other bloodshot with vile red. Her mouth curled into an inhuman sneer. It triggered terror in the pit of Annabeth's stomach, though she knew Medusa was dead. She knew Piper killed her.

It was a clever ploy, buying Hylla enough time to raise a hand to her lips, to swallow.

Annabeth had seen suicide pills before. Even though she quickly shut her eyes, she knew what came next.

It was better than what Kronos would have done. And her secrets stay secrets. Forever.

A/N: I was only able to post super fast because I had to sample from Aveyard a lot for this chapter, which I hadn't been planning to have all in one chapter, but I'm really busy rn with competition season, and I wanted to release some content in case I miss the next update again and post late. Please don't hate me?

So a reviewer asked about Reyna x Thalia, and I'd like to hear your thoughts. :P Are you guys into that? Would you want me to do that ship? I usually make these decisions myself, but Reyna x Thalia is kind of controversial, since some people really hate making them lesbian and going against the canon version, but if y'all are into that, I'm down. I'm a hardcore Thaluke shipper, but due to mild obstacles (like his pSYCHOPATHIC tendencies) that's not gonna happen in this fic lmao.

Also somebody asked me what my favorite stories of mine are, and I thought it was a kewl question. Interestingly enough, it's not my most popular stories, but instead probably my latest stories bc I think I get better the more I write. My fav multi chap of the two is def this one—LLTK, and then my fav oneshot is also my latest, longest one—Call It Even. Lemme know if y'all have any differing opinions lmao, as writers yourselves or as readers.

Until next time~

Kit xx

HoO Storys: Omg breathe, homie. As I said in my A/N, it's just a sticky history, that's all. Y'all already know this is a Percabeth story, through and through ;) (But I appreciate your enthusiasm lmao.)

Me myself and i: I mean, I addressed all of your review in both of my A/Ns, soooo… thanks for reading lol. PS I liked your question; I've never heard that one before.

AnnaUnicorn: Thank you so much! AND HELLO, FELLOW SUFFERER. I'm so fucking scared the curve's gonna be ass, my dude, where like one wrong in science=32 ;-; lol. Bc I was talking to my friends, and they were also saying they found the Feb. 8th exam suspiciously easy, and now I'm panicking bc I really don't wanna resTUDY AND RETAKE IT. I shall hope for you too~