hello! wow, okay, so. I probably owe you guys an explanation for why I haven't updated in legit like 8 months? it's honestly not that much tbh. I basically just got super busy with school and other writing projects and this got pushed to the side. Over time I lost motivation for it, especially bc like I said, I have a couple other big writing projects going on right now (which i will eventually post don't worry lol) and yeah. i probably wouldn't have actually finished this anywhere near the foreseeable future eXCEPT that there were some awesome reviewers who messaged me and pushed me to finish this. thanks for that y'all. i needed it.
ok now onto the chapter woot woot
•
December 25th, 1775
Annabeth woke up on Christmas morning to snow falling gently outside her window.
She shook her head as she sat up, pulling the quilt close around her shoulders against the chilly air. The snow—soft, pure, sweet—was a stark contrast to the last few months in Boston. Ever since Leo had been killed for deserting, Annabeth had been having nightmares almost every night, seeing Leo's face in her mind, remembering the way Calypso had stood in the crowd watching her only hope of rescue die, because of her. The other girl's pale, stricken face and the way she had held herself—like she was trying to be strong, trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, but any minute she was going to collapse under the strain—haunted Annabeth in the night, mixing the memory of Leo's blood on the cobblestones and the shouts of angry townspeople, echoing over and over and over.
Some nights it was worse than others; some nights she remembered the battle, remembered going after Percy and not even thinking about what could happen to herself. Some nights she remembered the wound in Percy's abdomen, and saw his grey face—so still—on her father's operating table again, her father's hands covered in blood as he did everything he could to save him.
And Annabeth knew, she knew that her father had done it. That Percy was safe, and healthy, and alive. But on those nights, in those dreams, he wasn't; he drew his last breath on that bloodstained table and Annabeth would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat.
Oftentimes Percy would hear her, or maybe he was awake with his own nightmares; Annabeth never really knew for sure. She only knew that he often eventually came into her room in the middle of the night, waking her up from her unconscious screaming with soft words and the touch of his cool, gentle hands stroking her forehead.
She stared out her window, watching the snow blanket the earth and remembering what it was like when she was still innocent, still unknowing to the horrors of war.
Suddenly the snow outside on the street was covered in blood and bodies, and Annabeth, horrified, stared at the awful sight for a minute before she screamed, bringing the quilt around her with violently shaking hands. She looked up, and Percy was at the foot of her bed, and there was that same, gaping wound in his side, blood pouring onto the white coverlet.
He looked at her, eyes glassy with fever and pain, and opened his mouth to say something, but then he exhaled, and the life left from his body before he could. Annabeth reached for him, but her hand passed through air, and she was falling, falling, falling into blackness, and then—
Suddenly she was at the square again, and it was snowing. Leo was tied to the pole, facing the firing squad as snowflakes drifted down from the heavens—but then his face changed, and it was Percy lashed to the pole, Percy riddled with bullets and blood streaming from his lifeless body, and Annabeth screamed. She fell to the ground, still staring at his limp form tied to the pole, because she would never see Percy again, he was gone—
"Annabeth! Annabeth, wake up," someone said, and Annabeth gasped, choking on her own breath as her hoarse throat tried to push out one last terrified scream. She tried to sit up, the quilt sliding from her sweat-slicked shoulders as she tossed and turned desperately, still half-caught in the nightmare.
Large hands grabbed her flailing wrists, pinning her to the bed as the soothing voice continued. "Annabeth, I'm right here. I'm right here."
Her head whipped around frantically towards the source of the voice in the pitch-darkness of her room, her tears spilling. "Percy?"
He pulled her close, her head against his bare chest. "I'm right here," he repeated.
"You were dead," she gasped, breathing speeding up again. "You were gone, Percy, you were in the square and the bullets and—"
Percy took her hand gently and pressed it against his chest. Annabeth sagged, feeling the strong, steady heartbeat pulsing against her fingertips. "I'm alive," he told her softly. "It was just a dream."
Slowly, carefully, he leaned back with her still against his chest until they were both lying down on the bed, Annabeth still quaking in his arms. Percy's fingers trailed against her sweaty face, brushing back her matted curls and pressing long, lingering kisses to her forehead until she calmed.
"Was it… was it a bad night for you, too?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room was beginning to recede, the faint edges of the sun peeking over the horizon outside Annabeth's window.
"Yes," Percy admitted, just as soft. "I was already awake when I heard you screaming."
Annabeth nodded, not needing to say anymore. It had been this way the past few months—one of them hearing the other screaming in the night and going to their room, without a thought of propriety, until they both fell asleep together. Annabeth's parents had protested at first when they found out, but as Annabeth grew pale and listless from lack of sleep, Mrs. Chase had pushed Annabeth's reluctant father into agreeing not to mention it.
And here they were, suffering through the same night terrors that had plagued the both of them for over two months.
Annabeth gazed silently out the window as the sun came up, feeling the dried tears on her cheeks and Percy's thumb, almost absentminded, rubbing circles on her shoulder.
It was snowing.
She craned her neck a little to see as the sun rose and illuminated the street, white with a blanket of fresh white snow. In her mind's eye, Annabeth got a sudden vision of her dream again—the pure white snow littered with blood and bodies, and Percy's body tied to the firing pole as snowflakes fluttered down from the heavens.
Feeling her tense, Percy pressed a kiss to her hair. "It's alright," he said again, voice rough from exhaustion.
"It's Christmas," Annabeth said suddenly. "Percy, it's Christmas."
Percy laughed a little darkly as he pulled the quilt back up around their shoulders and settled down next to her, his eyes already closing. "Merry Christmas to us."
•
Annabeth woke up a few hours later to Percy's loud snoring in her ears, the morning sun shining through the windows onto the rumpled quilts. Percy's warmth permeated the entire bed, and Annabeth smiled a little bit, settling back down onto the pillows and feeling her skin slick with sweat from the human furnace next to her.
At her movement, Percy snorted, then stirred. "Annabeth?" he asked groggily, sitting up as the sheets fell down, revealing smooth, bare skin. Annabeth did not let her gaze linger, instead turning her head pointedly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Merry Christmas."
He smiled sleepily, running his fingers through his thick, messy hair. "Merry Christmas." He looked up and sniffed as he reached over and pulled on a linen nightshirt that somehow had ended up next to Annabeth's bed. "I smell breakfast."
Annabeth breathed deeply, the scent of sweet hotcakes meeting her nose. "Mother has been saving the sugar for months just for today," she told Percy, untangling their legs under the sheets and sitting up. Ever since the harbor blockade, sugar had been scarce in Boston. Families had been forced to ration all their provisions, sugar most of all.
Percy groaned, flopping back into bed. "Remember when we used to be able to just—have sugar? Like candy sticks, and sugar in tea, and cakes—"
Annabeth grinned as she pulled off her mobcap, shaking out her long, tangled curls. "Like last year, when we went to the governor's Christmas ball together. Remember the stacks of fruit cakes, and punch, and hot chocolate—"
Percy was silent, and Annabeth turned around to find him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Is something the matter?" she asked, concerned.
"No, I just—" he shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. "I was remembering the ball last year, and—something happened, that I've been meaning to tell you about."
Annabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" he took a deep breath. "You were a little drunk, I think—you drank too much champagne, and we were both exhausted. And then we went outside, but our coach wasn't there, for some reason, so I carried you home."
"That, I remember," Annabeth laughed. "I was so tired, and then we were talking…" she frowned. "I don't remember what we were talking about."
"I do," Percy said, and something in his voice gave Annabeth pause.
"You do? What did we talk about, then?"
"I, uh," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, and his cheeks were tinged with red. "I told you how I felt about you."
"You mean…?" Annabeth asked, already knowing the answer.
"I told you I was in love with you," Percy confirmed. "It was… incredibly bad timing, I suppose. We were both drunk—though you more than me—and I wasn't thinking straight, and I just completely rambled and—"
"But what did I say?" Annabeth pressed, a little shell-shocked.
"You said that you loved me, too," Percy said. "But you also said that we couldn't be together, because you were too afraid of losing me. And then…" he shook his head. "The next morning, you didn't remember any of it. And part of me was glad, because I had made a complete fool of myself and risked our friendship at the time, but the other part of me… I kind of wished that you did remember, that you knew how I felt about you and the fact that I now knew you felt the same. But it always came back to that—you not wanting to be with me because of the threat of losing me."
Annabeth was silent, because—it was still true. She was still deathly afraid of being with Percy the way they had been the past few months; afraid of opening up her heart to him, because they'd been lucky, so far; they had both had brushes with death, with danger, and yet came out of them alive. Maybe not unscathed—Percy still had the physical scars to prove it, and both of them bore the mental scars that their experiences had left—but alive.
And if she were to lose him now, she honestly didn't know what she would do.
But on the other hand…
"It's true," she began carefully, coming around to the other side of the bed and sitting next to Percy. "I was—I am afraid that I could lose you. I don't know what I would do if—if you died, if I didn't have you anymore."
Almost unconsciously, she reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers.
"But I'm willing to take that risk—that risk that one of us, or even both of us, could die," Annabeth said, "because I want—Percy, I want to be with you. The war, the world, is honestly rather terrifying right now, but I'd rather face with you—together—than alone."
Percy suddenly lifted their interlocked hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "As long as we're together," he murmured.
Annabeth squeezed his hand wordlessly, and together they went downstairs for breakfast.
•
"Remember that time when Annabeth was riding Blackjack, and she…" Percy began, and Thalia burst into laughter.
"And she accidently went by the laundry line with all the sheets on it, and Blackjack spooked?" Thalia gasped, remembering.
Annabeth huffed, crossing her arms. "I was terrified, and you both were just laughing your heads off. Unhelpfully."
Percy wiped his eyes. "To be fair, you were screeching as Blackjack galloped down the street, his head wrapped in a white sheet. It was hilarious."
Annabeth rolled her eyes. "It might have been a little amusing," she admitted. "But still. I could have died, you arse!"
"Annabeth," her stepmother chided. "Please don't use that language at the dinner table."
Thalia smirked, patting Annabeth's hand. "I'm sure you would have thought of something if Blackjack hadn't dumped you in the pond first."
Annabeth responded hotly, and Percy leaned back, crossing his arms as he listened to their playful banter. The Chases had invited a newly-married Thalia and Luke Castellan for Christmas dinner, allowing Annabeth to catch up with her old friends. While Percy enjoyed the company of Thalia immensely, he and Luke were still wary around each other, although for what reason Percy didn't quite know. Luke knew he and Annabeth were together, and Luke himself was married; Percy had absolutely no reason to be jealous of Annabeth's close childhood friend.
And neither did he have any reason to be suspicious of the man—but that didn't stop his mind from considering all the possibilities that Luke could be up to, from spying, to a secret British officer, to a traitor—
And then he would remind himself that he himself was a well-known British officer, and a spy, and a traitor to his own country. Things weren't always as they seemed.
Carefully, he watched as Luke and Mr. Chase discussed something in low tones, and as Mrs. Chase reprimanded one of the twins for not eating his supper. Percy laughed a little, making a face at the boy when Matthew dropped his food below the table as soon as his mother wasn't looking.
The night passed by in a blur of talking and laughter, Annabeth's hand in his under the table and her smile sparkling at him in the light of the candles. The family eventually moved from the dining room to the sitting room, where Luke and Mr. Chase worked together to build a roaring fire in the fireplace as the little boys ran around them, giggling. Percy chatted with Mrs. Chase about the meal, since his mother had taught him a bit about cooking back in England, and Thalia and Annabeth talked softly on the couch, Annabeth's head leaning on Thalia's shoulder.
Percy loved Christmas. The candles flickered and the sound of music and laughter rang in his ears as the Chase family and friends put aside their differences for the night, losing themselves in the joy of good food and even better company. He missed his mother back in England, with the delicious plum pudding she made every year, and the carols they sang the fireplace, but. With Annabeth by his side, he felt at home right here.
The twins fell asleep on the sofa after a few hours, and Thalia and Luke eventually for home, departing with many warm embraces and farewells. Percy shook hands with Luke, both of them smiling genuinely, and Percy decided that maybe Christmas really was a time for miracles.
After Mr. and Mrs. Chase retired to bed, Annabeth grabbed his hand. "Come to my room?" she asked. "I have something for you."
Percy grinned. "As long as I can stop by my room first. I have something for you, too."
"Meet me in a few minutes," Annabeth said, giving his hand a quick squeeze, and they went their separate ways. Percy grabbed the small package from his bedroom and quickly walked down to hall to Annabeth's.
She let him in, and he immediately noticed that she'd changed from her dress into a nightgown and a red robe over it. Percy locked the door behind them, knowing that if anyone happened to come in—
Annabeth patted the bed next to her, and Percy sat down. "You first," she said eagerly.
Percy smiled at her excitement and pulled out his package. "Remember how, a few months ago, you mentioned that you wanted a painting of me?"
"Yes, but paintings are so expensive, and—" Annabeth's eyes widened as Percy pulled out the package. "You didn't!"
"It's only a miniature, so you mustn't worry about the cost," Percy told her quickly. "But I just thought—it would be nice for you to have, in case—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Annabeth whispered fiercely, grasping his hand. Her eyes in the dim flickering of the candle were luminously grey. "We're safe, and we're here, and we're together. For now, that's all that matters."
Percy nodded, forcing his mind from what was rapidly becoming inevitable, and kissing her forehead. "So, do you like it?"
Annabeth opened the package and took it out, gasping. "The locket—"
Percy held it up for her, the light glistening on the silver chain. "It was my mother's. She gave it to me to eventually give to my future…" he trailed off.
Annabeth's eyes were mischievous. "Your future what?"
"Nothing," Percy muttered, his cheeks heating up.
"Your future wife?" Annabeth asked, intertwining her hand in his.
He nodded. "I know we aren't married, and we haven't—we haven't even really talked about it, with everything else going on, but. I want to marry you, Annabeth. We're of the marriageable age, and many of my friends were married younger. I'm not saying it has to happen anytime soon, or that you even have to say yes, but—"
"Perseus Jackson, are you proposing to me?" Annabeth asked, teasing.
He leaned forward, kissing her. "I guess I am," he murmured as he pulled away.
"Then I guess I'm saying yes," Annabeth replied softly, her soft smile blindingly bright. "I don't know when, or how, but Percy—yes, I will marry you."
Percy choked out a laugh and pulled her closer, her head resting on his shoulder. She held him tightly, and they rocked silently for a few minutes. No words were necessary.
After a little bit, Percy pulled back, wiping his eyes inconspicuously. "So, you said you had something for me?"
Annabeth began laughing. "Um, yes. It's a bit humorous now." She pulled out her package and handed it to him, and Percy opened the box, a little puzzled at first, until—
He began laughing too. "You got me a miniature of yourself."
"I guess our thought processes were rather similar," Annabeth giggled. "But yes. It's a locket on a chain, see, so you can wear it under your uniform. In case—" she trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.
In case you have to leave again. In case you leave and don't come back to me.
Percy kissed her gently. "I love it. Thank you."
"Stay with me?" she asked, her voice small.
"Of course," Percy replied, and he blew out the lamp before pulling the quilt over the two of them, Annabeth cuddled into his side.
And despite the nightmares, both in their heads and outside in the streets, Percy was content to never move. Annabeth was in his arms, and her breathing was soft against his neck, and for that one moment in time, he was able to protect her, to shield her from everything that was coming.
Because war was on its way, and he knew they didn't have much time left.
•
i'm literally so happy that's finally posted i wrote like half that chapter back in june and then it just sat? unfinished? for like 6 months? oh well at least it's up now
pls review and let me know what you think seriously reviews actually motivate me bc that means people are actually reading this and I need all the motivation I can get lolz
shoutout to helena (as always) for reading over this chapter and making it 100x better. love u lots girl xx
side note: i wrote a percabeth long oneshot for helena (GollyGeeWhiz) called this is what it's like when we collide go check it out and tell me what you think please and maybe even leave a review/fave srsly i will love you forever
anyway that's that! i'm trying to get back on some sort of updating schedule and so maybe look out for an update next week sometime? maybe? we'll see *crossed fingers*
k byyyeee
wm