Look, I'm sorry for the late update guys. But I swear, I tried to put everything I have into this chapter, and it's a long one so it should make do for a while.

Hope you enjoy. We're starting to get answers now.

August, 2009

Lying in the sand, unaware as to what was going on around her, Annabeth was reliving her past. Her physical body moaned, upset. On the inside, she was screaming.

I don't want to see this again, she thought ferociously. But her body seemed intent on telling her something, and, though fuming and cringing, Annabeth was taken on a journey to the past.

July, 2009

There was a white envelope sitting on Annabeth's bed when she came home from school that day. It had her name scrawled across the front in an elegant script that stirred a memory inside her that tugged at her with an achingly familiar… something.

She dropped her school bag on the floor, and didn't even bother to take her hat off before she began to closely inspect the envelope. The paper looked normal enough, maybe a bit yellowed like it was old or stained with tannin, but still just a regular, standard sized, white(ish) envelope. The only thing was the smell. Under the dusty, mothball exterior of scents was an odour that seemed dense and heavier than a scent should be… there were no words. Its smell made Annabeth think of old and powerful monarchs, of a time long ago when kings ruled with tyranny and used their power to abuse their people. A disorientating vision flashed behind her eyes, blinding her, but before she got a decent look, it was gone. The only impression it left was of a golden owl imprinted behind her eyelids, the owl that had haunted her dreams for years and scarred her mind with its silhouette.

"It's from your mother," a voice said at the doorway. Annabeth jumped, and whirled around to see her father standing in the doorway, leaning on the door frame, arms crossed.

Annabeth frowned down at the envelope, and dropped it like it was infected with the bubonic plague. "Well, you can send it right back to her!" Annabeth hugged herself and whirled to face the window, a melancholy, angry look haunting her eyes, aging the otherwise flawless face of a fourteen year old.

The envelope fell from her finger tips, and fluttered down to rest gently near her foot. Her name written elegantly in the gorgeous calligraphy seemed to call to her. She scrunched her face up and forced herself to block it out. Its enthralling song still penetrated the mental fortress she had caged herself inside of, made strong through years of practice.

"Annabeth," Frederick said softly. He walked forward and picked up the envelope. It was oddly warm. He gently touched her shoulder and turned her around. She was blinking erratically against the tears that threatened to fall, betraying her façade that she was a blade forged of indomitable mettle. Frederick pulled her into a comforting embrace. His arms were stiff and tense around her middle, and she didn't accept his embrace. When he pulled away, Annabeth stared down at the floor, trying to stop her tears with pure mental force.

"Anna," Frederick said, holding the letter out to her. "It wants to speak to you. You can feel it too. I know you can."

Annabeth could feel a sob building up in her chest. She opened her mouth to protest, but out came a wail that conveyed everything that had been building up inside of her for years. It was like the dam wall had finally crumbled. She was powerless to stop it.

She fell into her father's arms and cried like a widowed bride, a newborn baby, a motherless child.

The horrible noises wrought inside Frederick a twisting, age old grief. A hint of what he had once felt came back to him now, seeing his daughter's anguish.

He simply did what felt purely natural. He enfolded her in his arms, and sat both of them down on the bed. He stroked her hair, and whispered soothing nothings— "It's okay" "Shh, baby" "We'll get through this"— in her ear and wiped the tears from her cheeks that were quickly replaced with fresh ones. He paid no mind to the abundant snot supply she was depositing on his shoulder.

"Dad," Annabeth whispered hoarsely in between hiccups. "I miss her."

Frederick stared out at the path that led to the beach, his mind elsewhere. "Me too, Anna. Me too."

Suddenly Annabeth shoved out of her father's encircled arms, and stood, wiping away any evidence of her little pity party. "You don't love her as much as you used to!"

"Annabeth! How can you say that?"

The tears were coming back now. Annabeth was angry; angry with her father, and angry with herself for letting him see what was really going on inside her mind.

"You chose Susan! And Bobby and Matthew over me and mum!" Annabeth yelled. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

"You know that is not true, Annabeth," Frederick said, shocked.

"You don't have to defend yourself, dad."

"Anna-"

"Just go, dad."

"Annabeth-"

"Leave!" Annabeth yelled, pointing to the door. She desperately wanted to be alone. The letter's call was strong. She needed to read it. And she needed to read it now.

Frederick stood up abruptly and briskly walked out of the room.

Alone at last, Annabeth sat on the bed, stunned that she had actually yelled at her father after all these years. She glanced down at the letter from her mother. It seemed to glow, the letters dancing across the page the way they always did when she didn't wear her glasses.

Without thinking, she leaned down and scooped it up. As if in a trance, she gently peeled the envelope open and withdrew the letter. The letters on the page dove and swum before her dyslexic eyes, and to discern individual words among the elegant script that vaguely resembled jumbled spaghetti, Annabeth had to squint.

She was mesmerised from the first sentence.

My dearest Annabeth, 15/01/2000

I trust that your dyslexic eyes are developed enough to read this ancient, symbolic script: Ancient Greek Calligraphy. Your father was given very careful instructions on how to notice the signs of when you are ready.

I don't have much time. I must keep this letter as brief as possible, and I have to fit hours of story- telling on this one page.

You know the story of the First Mermaid. What most ignorant mortals don't realise is that the story of the First Mermaid is linked to the story of the siren Parthenope and the mortal man Ulysses.

As people know, the tale goes that Parthenope sang to Ulysses, and he was the only man who didn't fall for her charm. She killed herself in her grief. End of story.

I'm going to tell you the story of what really happened. This is an integral part of your ancestral history, and try not to think of it as a fairy tale bed time story. This is not a children's tale. This is ancient history.

The letter ended. Annabeth stared at the page in shock, her hand trembling. Where was the rest of the story?

August, 2009

He placed his hands on Percy's shoulders and sighed. His voice was tired when he said, "Percy, do you know why the Mer were banned from visiting the human world in the first place?"

"Dad," Percy said. "We don't have time for story telling! I have to get Annabeth to a healer!"

"Annabeth." Poseidon stated. "The Graceful One. Favourable to the gods." The Sea God sighed and closed his eyes at his son's naïve stupidity. "You've done it now, boy. If Thalassa ever found out, she'd not only destroy you and the girl, but my whole domain. It's a part of the story."

Percy dimly recalled the name from his ancient history lessons from his private tutor, Nereus. Thalassa. The Old Mother of the sea. Spouse to Pontus, the personification of the sea and brother to Gaea and Ouranus.

"Dad," Percy said. "Can this wait? I don't care about some old myth. This is real life and the girl I love is dying!" his voice had risen from a diplomatic intonation to a desperate shout by the end.

The water started churning around again in Percy's distress. Sand swirled angrily around his limp legs. Poseidon waved his hand to calm the water, and his face hardened. "I'll bid my trusted healer Amoris tend to the girl, but she cannot very well stay under the sea. She's best to go back to her own land. She won't heal down here."

Percy's face relaxed slightly when a dolphin swam towards Annabeth and gently nudged her. The dolphins were kind and gentle and wise. They would know what to do.

Percy let himself fall lightly to the ocean floor. The moon goddess Selene shone dimly, illuminating the cove with an eerie light. Asteria winked at Percy with her many eyes in the starry sky, like she was sharing an inside joke with him. For the first time, Percy felt the godly presences all around him. He felt Hypnos as sea creatures slept peacefully around them, he felt Morpheus as Annabeth's eyes moved fitfully under her papery eyelids, obviously dreaming. He felt Aurora, Apollo and Pheobus readying for the break of dawn in a few hours; he felt Latona's dark hold over the earth and Pleoine drift gently around him. And most of all, he felt his father's green eyes watching him with the liveliness of a young adult and the scr9utiny of an old man.

Percy felt exposed, but still he curled up by Annabeth's side as the dolphin made soft clicking noises that were strangely soothing. It was an ancient dolphin method of healing— sing the body to health by calming it and making it believe that nothing was wrong. Percy pulled Annabeth's head into his lap and began to stroke her soft hair. It was as soothing as the dolphin's soft clicks and whistles.

Poseidon soon joined Percy down on the soft sand, swirling up a hump of the fine grains of pristine sand to make a sort of throne. Gods forbid the Sea Lord place his bottom on the ground.

They both settled down for the story Poseidon was about to tell; albeit reluctantly, knowing he couldn't change his adamant son's mind. Some people just had to learn the hard way.

"You would have at least heard of Parthenope and Ulysses, the two ill- fated lovers of the sea."

July, 2009

Annabeth was frantic. That couldn't be the end. She turned it upside down, back to front; she even tried reading it cross eyed with her vision blurry to discern some sort of hidden clue, a secret message. She needed to know what had happened. It was the sort of ache that she got whenever somebody pulled out a block of chocolate and she wasn't allowed any— it just wouldn't leave her mind. The smell taunted her with its chocolaty goodness, and all she could think about were those advertisements that showed melted creamy chocolate pouring into solidification and her mouth started watering.

The desire for new knowledge was the same. It was not only a mental thing, it was a physical thing that violated her body and wrought havoc in her thoughts. If there was a question unanswered, a puzzling riddle, it would drive her crazy until she found the answer. It was a trait that had always been a part of her and none of the numerous psychologists that had scrutinised her over the years could figure it out. It frustrated Annabeth that her own personal body was a walking conundrum, an unsolved mystery.

She jumped as a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and she whirled around to see her father standing behind her. "I thought I told you—"

"Do you want to know where the rest of the letter is, or not, Annabeth?" Frederick snapped, his voice rough.

Annabeth shut her mouth, throwing her pride out the window and succumbing to her intense curiosity.

"Your mother wrote it down for me. It seems to be in code." He handed her a crumpled, yellowed piece of paper that looked like it had been handled a lot. "I've tried many times trying to figure it out, but I never understood it. You're smarter than me, Annabeth. Perhaps you'll understand it. Maybe it will mean something to you."

Frederick watched for a few seconds as his daughter's quick brain digested the information written on the page that was in the same script as the letter had been. Frederick thought it was another language, because it certainly wasn't English.

When a light of understanding dawned on Annabeth's face, Frederick decided to leave her to it. Whatever was written on that slip of paper was between her mother and her. Feeling like he was intruding on a special moment between mother and daughter, Frederick slipped out of the room, secretly hoping that Annabeth would come to him afterwards and shed light on the mystery that had been nagging at him for years on end.

Socrates once said, "The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."

That was all that was written. Socrates. That name rang a bell in Annabeth's head.

She tried to maintain some semblance of calm as she trotted down the stairs towards her father's office, the home of the house's ancient desktop computer. As soon as the door clicked shut, she dropped all pretences of composure and lunged towards the desktop computer and quickly punched the power button, tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk as the screen went blank except for white writing in the centre which read: Preparing to configure windows, do not turn off modem. 7%

"Why now?" she muttered, and while it was slowing building up to 100%, she grabbed the slip of paper decorated with her mother's strange hand writing, and stared at it, willing the information to pop up. Unfortunately, her brain wasn't quite as fast and informative as Google. It was irritating her to no end – she knew that name. Socrates. Socrates.

8%...

15%...

19%...

21%...

Annabeth bored her eyes into the screen, knowing that staring at it would only make it go slower, but unable to help herself.

Why can't dad upgrade to a newer model? Annabeth thought grumpily. This is 2009. We should move on with the times and get one of those fancy Mac computers everyone raves about.

Her eyes were burning by the time the desktop screensaver of Frederick and Susan posing in front of the Eiffel Tower, a photo from their honeymoon, came up. Annabeth clicked on the internet. It wasn't quite ready, still connecting.

Why is everything against me researching Socrates? Annoyed questions flew through her mind as her impatience got the better of her.

After what felt like forever, the browser finally loaded.

Annabeth typed into the search bar a single word: Socrates (and like the nerd she was, she even used a capital letter).

She clicked on the first link which was to Wikipedia.

"Socrates was a classical Greek (Athenian) philosopher credited as one of the founders of Western philosophy. He is an enigmatic figure known chiefly through the accounts of later classical writers, especially the writings of his students Plato and Xenophon and the plays of his contemporary Aristophanes. Plato's dialogues are among the most comprehensive accounts of Socrates to survive from antiquity, though it is unclear the degree to which Socrates himself is 'hidden behind his 'best disciple', Plato"

Annabeth zeroed in on one word, and with that word, her whole world came down around her.

Athenian. As in a form of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, war and the arts. Whose sacred animal was the owl. Annabeth had always found ancient religions and beliefs fascinating, and a few years ago enrolled in an online learning course. Because she didn't do anything half- assed, within a few weeks she had become as learned about basic religion and myths as a professional, specialised scholar on the topic.

On a whim, Annabeth typed into the search bar, Shanahan.

What came up next was like the missing link in the chain of shrouded mysteries that had strictly governed her life.

Shanahan is an Irish surname that is the epiphany of wisdom. In history, this surname has rarely been mentioned, if ever used...

Annabeth was drowning. She was drowning.

This is impossible.

She couldn't breathe.

"Oh, god," she muttered, staring in horror at the screen, all the pieces tumbling into place inside her head.

"That's 'oh, gods' to you, Annabeth," said a crazy familiar voice from behind her.

Annabeth whirled around and fell off her chair, a mixed expression of fright and disbelief moving across her face.

All of a sudden, where there had been no one, within a millisecond, there was someone.

Not just someone. It was someone whom she had thought she would never lay eyes on again.

Drowning.

January, 2000

Little Annabeth could never have known why her mother was pacing so frantically, hands behind her back, lips pursed the way they were only when she was extremely irritated or stressed. She was muttering under her breath as she traversed the length of the carpet from window to wall, wall to window, window to door, door to window, window to wall and back again. From what Annabeth's unseeded ears could pick up, it was in another language. It wasn't out of the ordinary for mummy to mutter in this strange, unfamiliar language.

"From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate. Sound use of alliteration. Iambic pentameter? From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate. No."

"Mummy? What are you saying?"

"Nothing, sweetie."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Yes, you are. You are walking a lot."

The anxious woman sighed and knelt down by her young daughter. "The greatest lesson you will ever learn from me, Annabeth, is that whenever you feel like the world is tumbling down over your head and nothing can fix it, words are your greatest comfort."

Any other child would have stared blankly at these words, or become distracted.

But Annabeth is my daughter, she thought proudly.

Annabeth nodded solemnly up at her mother and said, "I like reading, mummy."

Mother smiled down at daughter and found she no longer needed to repeat Socrates' famous phrase over and over again.

For the first time, she realised that perhaps comfort could be found in places one could never imagine.

July, 2009

"Mother?" Annabeth whispered in utter disbelief. It wasn't really a question. There was no doubt. That particular grey shade of her iris was unique, and also very familiar. There was no doubt about it: it was a mirror image of Annabeth's own shade.

Shannon hadn't changed even the tiniest bit since Annabeth had seen her last.

But…

"Your name isn't really Shanahan, is it?" Annabeth blurted out before she could stop herself. "I think… I think you're not even… you're not like me, are you?"

"No, you're exactly like me, Annabeth. Which is why I knew I could trust you to eventually figure it out."

"Mother, what is your real name?"

"You tell me, Annabeth. Solve this riddle, like I solved yours."

The hate note riddles, Annabeth thought. She wasn't even ashamed that her mother had found those. In her deepest heart of hearts, she had wanted her mother to find them.

Annabeth licked her dry lips and whispered, "Athena?"

The terrible smile that next adorned those full, maroon coloured lips gave Annabeth all the answer she needed.

Annabeth tasted blood from where her teeth had clamped onto her tongue.

"Why are you here, Mother?"

"You read the letter I left for you all those years ago. I'm here because you wanted answers. Now I'm going to give you answers. Sit down."

"But—"

"Sit down, daughter." That tone of voice. It stirred up some of her earliest memories of her mother's stern voice. That was the voice that she knew never to disobey. That was the voice that had planted in her head disorientating visions of burnt cities, corpses on a battle field, a blinding golden light.

Now I know, Annabeth realised. That is what happens when you disobey a goddess's command.

Goddess.

It only hit her right then and there.

My mother is a goddess.

That means that I'm a…

Even if she hadn't wanted to sit down, she had no choice. Lucky the chair was behind her or she would have collapsed to the floor. Her shaking legs could no longer hold her.

Seated in the rolling office chair, Athena checked the door to make sure it was locked, drew the blinds down, and in a quiet voice, she began to tell the story that had begun this tragic tale in the first place.

"This is a story about two lovers of similar fate to ones you might know— Romeo and Juliet."

At the name of the Shakespearean tragedy that ended in the two star crossed lovers' deaths, Annabeth's stomach turned over. And not in a good way.

"The man was a mortal king, Ulysses Odysseus. Weak, foolish man," Athena shook her head, appearing lost in thought for a second before snapping back to the present. "He was a favourite of mine, but after he aided King Agamemnon in burning Troy, the city of my brother Apollo, to the ground in the Trojan War, he lost my blessing and began to travel as a hobby to rid himself of his war guilt. When he visited the Greek Isles, he fell hopelessly in love with a siren named Parthenope, a descendant of the goddess of love Aphrodite and a shape shifter of the sea named Nereus."

August, 2009

"Ulysses was more commonly known as Odysseus in the Air," the Sea God said, disdain staining his deep, smooth voice. "He was a pain, always wailing into the ocean about his love for the very thing that would destoy him. She very well should have just done it and stopped this whole mess from ever panning out." Poseidon shook his head, and the crease between his eyes smoothed out as he returned to the story. "Parthenope was not the blood- thirstiest siren. I remember she could be quite sweet." Poseidon laughed heartily. "Well, as sweet as a mermaid with razor sharp fangs can be, anyway. But, as a descendant of your exquisite aunt Aphrodite, she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her singing voice was gorgeous."

"Dad, all the sirens' singing voices were gorgeous."

"No, Percy, you misunderstand me. Parthenope's voice… she could have sung the ocean to dry up. She could have sung Zeus to his grave."

Percy was speechless. He couldn't imagine anything like it, he couldn't wrap his head around how beauty of voice could be so powerful.

"Imagine Aphrodite's charm speak mixed with the muses' music. You have persuasion so powerful that not even a god could resist it. Mortal men fell like dry twigs towards the sirens, Parthenope most of all. It was no surprise that Odysseus was just one of many men to waste his youth yearning for a carnivorous monster."

"But he didn't. Parthenope loved him, too," Percy pointed out. 'That's the crux of the story. Everyone knows this, dad. Ulysses and Parthenope fell in love, the other sirens tried to eat him, and he runs away and marries Penelope. In revenge, she murders her sisters and commits suicide and the end. Are we done?"

Poseidon's briny green eyes darkened and became thunderous. "No, Perseus. You don't know anything. I'm trying to warn you and you will not listen. I forbid you to open your mouth until I am done speaking. There is more to the story."

July, 2009

"Ulysses and Parthenope loved each other from afar for a short while before he approached her in Siren Bay on Zakynthos Island one day," Athena continued. "Not realising what she was, the mortal was not prepared to meet her brethren. They sang to him, and the known legend ends with Ulysses' death. But that's the common Mer folktale. In the forbidden archives that only I, as the goddess of wisdom, can access, the legend continues with Parthenope singing her sisters to unconsciousness so that she can rescue Ulysses from his musical demise."

"Can we just call him Odysseus? It's easier for me to deal with things that are familiar. I know the story of Odysseus, not this Ulysses."

"Of course, Annabeth. But just remember that everything you think you know is going to be contradicted at least once in your life. Reverting back to familiar ground will not always be the wisest option."

"The only true wisdom is knowing you know nothing," Annabeth murmured, another link to the chain snapping into place in her mind, and Athena nodded.

Annabeth imagined her life to be a jigsaw puzzle. But not a little kids jigsaw with ten or so obvious pieces. No, her life was more like one of those giant ones with 5000 pieces that take weeks of determination and oodles of concentration to complete. Many errors are made along the way, pieces are lost and not easily found, but when you can eventually start to see the final picture, it's well worth the effort.

With each day that went by, Annabeth felt like her jigsaw puzzle was beginning to represent a picture. She was still unsure of whether she liked the emerging picture, though.

"Socrates was a wise man," Athena said like she was commenting on the weather. "For a mortal. Of course, he often hid behind his more famous student Plato. His self- esteem was— to say the least— a bit depressed."

"Can you please get back to the story, mother? I'd like to know what the hell you're going with this, and how it relates to me."

"Patience is a virtue, Annabeth. I see you inherited your father's short fuse."

Annabeth glared at the goddess, until Athena sighed and continued the story. "Parthenope and Odysseus had an affair. In The Odyssey, Homer states that Odysseus was already married to Penelope. It's not clear in the writings, but I believe Parthenope sung to Odysseus until he forgot his wife and children, his responsibilities as king of Ithaca, and even his own name, which would explain why he travelled for so many years. When their flair ended, the siren sent Odysseus back to Ithaca, and his excuse for being away for so long, nearly ten years, was long and difficult travels."

Homer's famous scripts of the Odyssey and the Iliad and the Aeneid had been like a bible to Annabeth for her whole life, and it took every ounce of will power she had in her to believe this new rendition of the story her mother was telling her.

The golden light flashed again behind her eyes, and Annabeth winced unobtrusively.

Always listen to mother.

Athena's shrewd grey eyes watched her daughter closely as she spoke.

August, 2009

"So if Ulysses was just a simple mortal man who wasn't super good looking, or super smart, or overly smelly so that she wouldn't eat him, why did Parthenope fall in love and save him out of all the men she'd ever encountered?" Percy asked, blatantly disobeying his father's order to keep quiet, but he had to get this straight. It didn't make sense. But then again, neither did his obsession with a human girl he'd spoken in person to once, a long time ago.

He decided that people weren't the insane ones. Love made people insane.

Aunt Aphrodite is going to get me for that one, Percy thought too late as a mischievous girlish giggle echoed through his mind.

"He was a king. Parthenope was a power- hungry young siren. She loved being in control. She had the crazy dream that if she married a king, she could rule the world with her looks, and her voice, and the trust the people had in him."

Percy was silent again, slightly shaken that his father was talking as if he had known Parthenope personally. As if he was actually there five thousand years ago. For the first time, Percy fully grasped the concept of immortality.

"No one knows for sure whether what the two had was really love, or just her hunger for power and his weakness. But after a few years, it is said that she saw what toll her hold on him was taking. He was slowly going insane. She set him free and sent him home to his family, and in her grief, Parthenope approached the Old Sea Mother Thalassa and asked her to destroy the sirens for all good.

"Once again, we'll never know why she thought this way. Sea Nereids and philosophers have tried to decipher her actions throughout the centuries, and the most famous guess is from an anonymous speaker. I think I can remember it off by heart." Poseidon cleared his throat, and lifted his head, his eyes vacant like he was possessed.

"Beautiful Parthenope in her graceful music and elegance understood the exquisiteness of love once her beloved Ulysses departed the fray. The enchanting seductress believed the sirens' very existence defied the concept of love. What is this we feed? cried she to her brethren under Selene's wavering glow. This that flouts the meaning of life, of love? We, lustful monstrosities!" Awareness returned to the Sea God's eyes, and he waited for Percy to take it in.

The Sea Prince was rightfully impressed. "That's definitely… something," he said.

He jumped when he felt Annabeth squirm in his arms. His eyes snapped down to see if she had been woken by Poseidon's rant, but her eyes stayed glued shut. Then he realised she was mumbling.

He placed his ear close to her mouth and frowned. "Mother… no… please, please… no!"

"Annabeth!" his arms tightened around her, and her body flinched with pain. He resisted shaking her to wake her up.

What was Annabeth dreaming about that was making her hands shake even in unconsciousness?

July, 2009

"So is that why the sirens aren't mentioned after Odysseus's time in the Greek Isles?" Annabeth asked. "Because Thalassa wiped them all out?"

"No. Sit tight and listen. This is the important part."

Annabeth opened her mouth to argue, but then she realised it wasn't worth it. This talk with her mother could either be short or it could be long, and the more she interrupted, the longer it would be. Best to just keep her mouth shut for once.

"Some say that Thalassa was wise with the knowledge of eons before her, and some say she is cold hearted and cruel, calcified in her old, old age. We'll never know her true motives when she granted Parthenope's wish— at a price. A steep, steep price.

"The sirens were cursed to forever remain in the Sea of Monsters, handmaidens to the sorceress Circe. But Thalassa punished Parthenope separately and at a far greater expense. The siren was cursed with the burden of the Furies' wrath. Thalassa's curse was an ingenious way to keep the two worlds separate. Even when reincarnated, Ulysses and Parthenope can never be together.

"Famous examples: Helen and Paris, star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war. Tristan and Isolde, separated by marital vows to the wrong person. Romeo and Juliet, divided by an ancient familial grudge."

Athena's gaze narrowed and became sharply astute. "You and Percy much the same. His tool of a father Poseidon and I never got along even before the Athens incident. Now it takes all of Zeus's restraint to keep us from killing each other every summer solstice when the Olympians gather for a 'family reunion', as Hestia likes to call it. I'd go for a sobriquet closer to 'Bloody Grovel Match Between Siblings', but Family Reunion has a nicer ring."

Annabeth wasn't sure what to be more surprised about— that Athena knew about her and Percy, or that she was talking about The Olympians— The Olympian Gods of Ancient Greece!— in present tense. Like they were real. Alive. Although it made sense. If Athena and Poseidon existed, why not Zeus and Hestia and Hades and the rest as well?

Yeah, why not? Annabeth thought, dazed. This is the weirdest day of my life.

Then it clicked what Athena had really said. Even when reincarnated, Ulysses and Parthenope can never be together.

You and Percy, much the same.

Annabeth felt bile rise in her throat, and she aimed all the strength she had into keeping the contents of her stomach down.

Oh, gods.

Oh, Percy.

"No," Annabeth whispered, sinking into her chair, strength dissipated. "You sent him to me. Remember? You told me to look for a sign." Annabeth sat up taller in her chair, the first hint of anger beginning to stir in her stomach. "You sent him to me, and how could a girl not fall in love with him! He's… he's Percy! And— and now…" And then Annabeth was crying, and she hated herself because she was crying way too much lately.

A crease appeared between Athena's perfectly arched eyebrows, shaped and plucked and primped to perfection, like the rest of her. Then it smoothed out and her eyes went soft while her dark red mouth twisted with anger, two contradictory emotions that made her ageless face seem lopsided.

"I didn't send Percy to you, Annabeth. That was your aunt Aphrodite. Aphrodite is forever searching for ways to provoke me, but I never thought she'd…" Athena trailed off and she looked at her daughter with the first hints of sympathy since they'd begun their talk. "I gave you a new mother, a mortal mother. And two brothers. That was my sign. I wanted you and your father to move on and forget about me. It was for the best."

Annabeth bolted up from her chair, anger exploding out of her like fireworks. "Forget about you? How could we forget about you? You- I see your imprint on my brain every night I close my eyes to go to sleep! The golden owl! You- you stamped me from the day I was born! And you have no idea what grief you caused my father when you left! He drunk himself into a stupor every night for two years until he met Susan! He couldn't look at me because all he saw was you! You- you have no- idea…" Annabeth broke down sobbing, and the goddess in all her wisdom was at a loss of what to do. She had never been in this situation before.

"I'm sorry, my child. Truly, I would change things if I could. But if you and the sea god's spawn continue this— acquaintance of yours, it will only hurt you more in the end. You are fourteen, Annabeth. You have your whole life to find someone else to love—"

"No, Mother, you just don't get it!" Annabeth yelled passionately. "You might be the goddess of wisdom, but you obviously draw a blank in the emotions department. I can't just hit the off switch on loving Percy. I bet you know the definition of love. I bet you could rattle off every single ill-fated love story off by heart to me right now just to prove a point. But you've never felt love, have you, Mother? Otherwise you wouldn't say such an absurd thing to me. Every single cell in my body loves Percy, and unless you want me to rip every single cell in my body apart and bleach them until no hint of Percy remains, I will love him until I die. When mortals grow old, knowledge and wits fade. But something that is eternal and unwavering until the day your heart stops is love. Try watching The Notebook. It'll teach you a little something about mortals."

After this remarkable oration, Athena was speechless for the first time in a long, long time. She opened her mouth, shocked at her daughter's outburst.

Because while everything Annabeth had said was technically correct, she was wrong in one thing.

You've never felt love, have you Mother?

I love you, she wanted to say. I loved your father.

But they were dangerous words, stepping on dangerous ground. It was better that Annabeth thought the worst of her than if she knew the truth.

The mighty goddess of wisdom was in love with an aging human man, and for all her knowledge, even she didn't know the formula to keep Death at bay. Whether it be tomorrow, or twenty years from now, Thanatos would come for Frederick Chase, and Athena would be helpless to stop it.

She could not tell the truth, but she could not bring herself to lie, either.

So she said nothing.

"Just go!" Annabeth said, angrily wiping tears from her cheeks, not looking at the goddess.

Athena knew the definition of panic. She had researched it, and seen it experienced. Humans were a species especially prone to this particularly hungry predator. But never had she experienced it herself, and she thought humans deserved more credit for undergoing this trauma on a regular basis. Her heart sped, galloping in her chest to an unfamiliar rhythm. Her palms dampened, and the goddess of wisdom was at a loss of what to do when her own daughter was ordering her out of the house. "Annabeth, please—"

Annabeth remembered the argument she had had with her father earlier, and it made her angrier that her parents were such morons.

"No, you said enough. I've heard enough. Go, just please, please go."

Athena could not resist such a broken plea. She realised that her visit may have caused more harm than healing. And— this uncomfortable strain in her chest. It hurt.

Heartache. This is what a broken heart feels like.

And it was all too familiar to the awful pit her leaving Fredrick nine years ago had dug in her chest.

Annabeth turned away as her mother faded into nothing but a golden glow. She jerked violently as she felt the lightest of butterfly kisses on her forehead and a terrifying voice in her head whisper sadly, Farewell, my daughter…

August, 2009

Annabeth gasped and her eyes fluttered open. A golden glow surrounded her body, and a faint owl appeared above her head. Poseidon swore loudly (in his subconscious mind, Percy wondered whether sailors learnt their bad language from the Sea King or the Sea King learnt his bad language from sailors) and shot off his sandy throne.

"Wisdom's spawn!" he spat, disgust colouring his tone. "Perseus!" he thundered. "Why in Zeus's name did you bring her into my domain? I should drown her right now and get it over with!"

"Dad, no!" Percy yelled, shielding Annabeth with his body. "She hasn't done anything!"

Poseidon grew to his full godly size, and his voice deepened until Percy could feel it boom across the ocean floor, echoing far and wide. "I warned you not to do anything rash, boy, and what do you do? Bring the child of my mortal enemy into my kingdom!"

"I can't deny what the Fates decreed!" Percy hollered above the cacophonous cadence of Poseidon's fury. "I loved her from the day I met her, and I'll love her until the day I die!"

"Foolish boy!" Poseidon roared. "The curse! You'll both die if you don't give her up now!"

"I don't care!" Percy screamed back. "I'd rather die with her right now than live another day without her!"

Suddenly Percy bellowed pain and his body twisted in violent spasms like he was having a seizure, or an epileptic fit.

Hearing Percy's screams, Annabeth jolted up, and it didn't even occur to her until much later that her ribs were healed. "Percy!" she turned her accusing gaze onto Poseidon. "Who are you? Are you doing this to him?" Percy jerked again, his face a portrait of agony. "Stop it! Please!" Annabeth cried. She went to get up, but Poseidon held his hand up.

"If you move from that spot, little girl," he intoned, his voice cold, "I will murder you in cold blood." And then Annabeth recognised him. Percy's father. Poseidon, the infamous God of the Sea, a legend in his on right. He had to be. They shared the same eyes. Except, of course, while Percy's were bright and fun loving, his father's were steely and taciturn.

"What are you doing to him?" Annabeth asked anxiously.

"Turning him truly into my son, my heir."

"What?" Annabeth whispered, a hint of what he was saying seeping into her mind but not registering.

"To truly belong to the Sea, he must become Mer."

"No," Annabeth said, going light headed. "That's not possible."

"I'm the God of the Sea. It's very possible," Poseidon explained coldly. "Humans evolved from the Mer. It's quite easy to revert something back to what it once was. It would be a whole lot more complicated to change a mermaid into a human. It's so painful because he is growing gills. He had lungs before from his human mother, and he was tied to the water by my power."

Percy screamed again, and Annabeth watched in horror as the blue tears of the Mer began to seep from his eyes, his agonised squirms kicking up a sandstorm until she couldn't see him anymore.

Finally, his screams died down, and he stared up at the sky, blue liquid dissipating into the water until no trace of them were left.

Sand that he had kicked up while twisting around had half buried him, and Annabeth could only see his face and half his upper torso.

"Percy!" she exclaimed, kicking over to him, directly defying the Sea Lord and not caring one bit.

She began to dig him out of the sand.

Percy turned his head, and it obviously took a lot of effort for even that little movement because he paled and grunted loudly. "Annabeth…" he whispered, his eyes gleaming with urgency and pain. "Don't—"

It was too late. As she uncovered the last bit of sand, a sleek grey seal's tail swished up, and Annabeth fell back and squealed. Where had that come from?

Percy sat up, and colour rushed to his face. He looked as if he was starting to get over whatever his father had done to him.

"Percy!" Annabeth threw herself at him, and he caught her, kissing her cheeks and her forehead, not daring to kiss her mouth yet. He had to remember that he was still a year older than her, and his father was watching in stony silence.

Percy felt that this moment with Annabeth was a goodbye of sorts.

He hugged her to him tightly, burying his face in the junction where her neck and shoulder joined. Her soft hair billowed around them, forming a golden curtain between them and the Sea Lord.

Percy pulled back after a moment too short.

"Annabeth," he murmured, holding her by the shoulders. "It's good to see you healed."

"Are you okay?" she asked, pressing her forehead to his.

"Fine," he said shortly.

"Percy?" she said, confused.

"Look," he whispered, a sadness blooming in his eyes.

"Wha—"

"Look, Annabeth."

And she did.

There was that tail again. But why was it—

Then she realised.

It was attached to Percy.

August, 2009

Earlier that evening

"We'll find her, Frederick," Susan Chase said calmly, hugging her husband from the side, watching their two twin boys fondly as they ran up and down the beach calling for their older sister, over- turning every shell, digging up sand and even checking behind bushes. "I promise, she's going to be okay."

Frederick said nothing as he took the crumpled letter out of his jacket pocket, rereading Annabeth's words over and over again, searching for some clue as to where she would have gone.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and out at sea, Frederick saw rolling black clouds forming. The wind picked up and the waves became choppy.

In the back of his mind, Frederick thought he heard a voice roaring along with the thunder, but he shook his head and it disappeared.

Susan stared worriedly out towards the storm, and then back towards her two sons who were playing merrily in the shallow waves. She could clearly see a dangerous riptide that ran the length of the coast, then pulled quickly out to sea in a deadly arc that would surely drown even the strongest swimmer.

"Darling, I'm going to take the twins inside for dinner now. I'll leave you alone if you want, but please don't spend too long out here. You'll certainly catch your death in this cold."

Susan gathered the boys and took off towards the house, but Frederick remained until it got dark, staring out at the storm.

Then, wiping the last of the tears of his cheeks and putting the letter back in his pocket, he turned around and went back inside.

August 2009, PRESENT

Annabeth suddenly couldn't breathe. She clutched at her throat and sank down to the sandy floor of the cove, bubbles streaming from her nostrils. Poseidon didn't flinch as he drowned the girl.

"Leave her alone!" Percy shouted angrily to his father, diving to catch her, marvelling at the ease of which his new body part manoeuvred him through the water. It seemed to part for him like a silky curtain, and he could only now feel just how much his human legs had held him back. He threw one last betrayed, hurt look at his father, and, wrapped in a shroud of bubbles, Percy and Annabeth shot towards the surface.

Annabeth broke the Skin and gasped for air, Percy supporting her weak body from below the Skin so that she wouldn't drown. It was hard to believe that it was still the same night that she had tried to kill herself. So much had happened. She had learnt and remembered so much.

Not even twenty four hours had passed, but this Annabeth was a completely different person to the one that had entered the water with the intent of taking her own life a few hours ago.

Once she had calmed down, Annabeth glanced down and met Percy's eyes. His face wobbled, the Skin distorting his features.

They swam to the shallows, and Annabeth sat in the small waves. It broke her heart to realise that she would never talk to Percy again. He had gills now. He would never walk in the Air as he had done last night.

They hadn't even had a whole night together before they were once again torn apart.

The Fates are cruel.

Annabeth took a deep breath and ducked her head under the water, grabbing at Percy's shoulders to keep herself from floating back up again.

He was crying blue blood again, and his eyes tried to convey everything they hadn't had time to say. They could never say enough.

There was only one thing to do to keep herself from screaming at the unfairness of it all. Annabeth ducked her head under the water, closed her eyes and puckered her lips, keeping them water tight so that she wouldn't inhale a mouthful of salt water, and Percy kissed her, carefully sealing their mouths.

It was in this instant that Annabeth learned that the Mer inhaled carbon dioxide and exhaled oxygen, because as they shared the most unique kiss ever experienced, Annabeth did not die for lack of breath. Percy's breath revived her, and she couldn't say how long they held onto each other just under the Skin, mouths connected, breathing each other in, kissing.

I'm making out with a guy with a tail, she thought giddily, cupping his face in her hands and tilting his head to an angle to suit her.

As Annabeth finally pulled away after the most mind- blowing first kiss ever, Percy was not the only one shedding tears.

They could both feel it. It was time for him to go back to his prison under the sea and for Annabeth to go back to her prison on land.

It was painful to break the Skin and breathe air again. She could have stayed down there for a lifetime, breathing Percy in.

Annabeth huddled on the wet sand, hugging her knees to her chin, and watched Percy retreat into the dark depths of the ocean and disappear from her life for what might as well have been an eternity.

August, 2009

He wasn't sure what time it was when he finally ran out of booze, but it would have been early in the morning when Frederick felt the need to go outside and throw up the mostly alcoholic contents of his stomach.

He put his hands on his knees and tried to straighten up, instantly regretting it. His head was pounding. He decided he needed fresh air desperately.

Stumbling down to the cove, Frederick was unaware of the lone figure sitting on the sand until he was nearly on top of her.

He fell in a heap onto the soft sand and in his extremely inebriated state, he didn't realise it was Annabeth.

"Dad?" she jumped. "What are you doing?"

A loud monster truck snore tore from his open mouth and Annabeth felt herself redden with anger.

"You're drunk."

She snatched the sneaker off his foot and marched down to the sea, filling it with the briny water.

She stomped back to him and felt no sense of sympathy when she poured the freezing water over his face. He groaned, and his eyes opened slowly.

"You look awful," Annabeth glared down at him.

Frederick rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes. "You can't talk, Anna."

Then his eyes snapped open and locked onto her face with the urgency of a dying man. "Oh, my god," he moaned. "Anna, I'm so sorry."

Annabeth plopped down next to him and rested her chin on her knees. "Me too, dad. It's my fault. I didn't want to hurt you."

Frederick slowly sat up, holding his head. "What I would do for a pack of Aspirin and a bottle of water. And it's not your fault, sweetie."

Annabeth didn't answer, staring sadly out to sea. She was mustering up the courage to ask him a sensitive question. One she already knew the answer to, but had to ask all the same. For peace of mind. For closure. For one more piece to fill one more blank space in the puzzle. "Dad, have you ever loved someone so much that to not be with them is like being stabbed in the heart repeatedly, every minute of every day?" Annabeth asked, expecting her dad to tell her that she was fourteen and that she was being silly to be talking about love like she had any idea what it was.

But she caught the stench of a strong alcohol on his breath, and began to cry— again— silently when he whispered brokenly, "Yes."

Wow. Longest chapter yet. 7530 words. Thanks for reading, guys. I like reviews. Just saying.

Until next time,

MashPotatoeSquishBanana