A quick note: I always believed Annabeth to be two months older than Percy in the PJO world. In the Little Mermaid world, she is about 2 years younger than him, and her birthday is sometime in October.
This chapter (which, I'm sorry, is sort of a filler chapter for the main point of the story which, I promise, is coming up sometime) is dedicated to a friend of mine (WetSquid62) who asked to be incorporated into one of my stories!
November, 2009
"I'm worried about her."
"Me too, honey."
"She hasn't eaten properly in months."
"I know, honey."
"Those bruises under her eyes haven't gone away in forever."
"I'm worried too, Frederick."
"She's so skinny. And she never talks anymore."
"Maybe it's time we… took a more serious step?"
"But I don't know what happened!" Frederick wasn't listening to his wife. He slumped in his chair and put his head in his hands. "She was fine! Then all of a sudden, she disappears and I find out she tried to kill herself!"
"Frederick," Susan said soothingly, coming over to him and settling on the arm of the chair. She ran her fingers through his greying blond hair and kissed his cheek. "We'll look into sending her to a psychologist and see what they recommend. This has gone too far, and I'm afraid we can't help her anymore."
"But the cost—"
"Don't worry about it," Susan took his hand. "I'll talk to my parents. They've always been tight spenders and even bigger hoarders, and their superannuation is probably loaded with sums that they'll never use."
"But, Sue, Annabeth isn't even your daughter. I don't expect your parents to pay for a perfect stranger to them."
"I love Annabeth like she is my own daughter. I'll do anything to help you help her. If you'll accept my help."
"Of course I do, sweetheart." Frederick frowned gloomily. "The real question is if Annabeth will ever accept your help."
November, 2009
Annabeth huddled under the tree at school with a book in her hands, her lunch untouched. She was sure that as the tree swayed, it was speaking to her. Letting her know that it was there, like it always was and always had been.
That tree had seen her cry, and it had seen her laugh. It had seen her make friends, and lose friends. It had seen her throw away countless lunches and finish many books.
In a way, the tree was her best friend. It silently observed her life with no judgement, no criticising opinion.
It accepted the fact that she had lost her summer tan. It accepted that she no longer had a zaftig figure. It accepted that she talked no more than necessary, and glared at everyone who even looked at her, and was on the verge of failing Year Ten.
It accepted the dried bloody slashes that ornamented her skin, the milky scars, results of the angry gashes of a blunt kitchen knife.
It accepted the perpetual scowl that adorned her features on every day that ended in 'y'.
It simply accepted her for being her, and Annabeth cherished that.
The tree did more for her than any living person in the entire world.
Except for Percy.
Percy.
Even just the thought of him nearly brought Annabeth to the point of melting down.
She hadn't seen him for almost three months. Every day without him was excruciating. Every second lived without him by her side was suffered in agony.
Annabeth thought herself insane for thinking it, but she believed that her 'Aunt Aphrodite' was having fun with her. She was a mere mortal who was a morsel ripe for picking. Well, in this case, picking on.
August, 2009
Frederick had locked himself in his study. His premature greying hair was tousled from having his fingers run through it so many times. The tick of the analogue clock was unnervingly loud in the silent room.
6:57pmit read. Exactly sixteen minutes he'd been sitting there, staring at the unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker that sat serenely in front of him.
Thinking about Annabeth's disappearance, he was tempted to open that bottle and down it all in one huge gulp, and drown his private fears and grievances and insecurities. Without his brain's permission, his fingers wrapped around the neck of the glass bottle. It was like coming home. He suddenly couldn't wait for the burn of the liqueur as it sailed down his throat, for the numbness of drunken obliviousness.
He heard the naive laughter of his sons, Bobby and Matthew, and the stern reprimand that Sue gave straight after.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't open the bottle. He couldn't let Sue know about his dark history of alcoholism, his fierce battle with the bottle prior to meeting her.
He plonked the glass down onto his desk and once again ran his fingers through his hair.
"You still do that when you're stressed," a voice said behind him, and Frederick froze in horror.
Maybe he was drunk after all; maybe this was all a dream, and he really had downed that bottle. He had passed out, and the voice was a product of the longing in him that had never gone away, even after all these years.
A hand landed on his shoulder and he cringed. "Frederick," her low, soft voice murmured huskily.
For an interminable moment, he fought with himself. His heart demanded him to turn around. Its pounding rhythm told him to memorise her features before she was gone again. Her full maroon lips. Her shining curly blond hair. Her soft, unblemished olive toned skin.
His head screamed at him that he had a wife and a new family, that she had left him. That he couldn't torture himself anymore, and to give in to her seductiveness would be like wrapping himself up in bacon and then going for a swim in shark infested waters. It could only result in pain and tragedy.
His heart, with teeth bared and claws unfurled threateningly, hissed in a slimy whisper that a lifetime of anguish awaited him if he didn't acknowledge that voice right now.
It turned out that he had to do nothing.
The office chair was spun around and he was suddenly facing the woman who had ripped his heart out of his chest and poured salt in the gaping, empty wound in his chest.
In the decade or more that she'd been gone, the wound had closed up, but the salt was still sitting in there, aching, throbbing every day that he woke up next to Sue instead of her and heard Susan's children giggling instead of her daughter, who was an unresponsive, depressed recluse for no reason that Frederick could see.
Now, looking into her timeless features, seeing that she was as striking as she had been the day he had met her, he felt as though the wound had been torn open again. He felt as though those uncanny grey irises could see through the illusion that the skin of his chest cast that he was whole. He felt that she could see right through him, and she could see the empty blackness that resided where his heart had once beat a healthy tattoo.
"Shannon," he said in return, and the moment was broken.
His ex-wife leaned forward and gently swept the fringe out of his eyes. "You're as handsome as the day I left, Frederick."
"And you beautiful," Frederick said in a daze. Her fingertips had brushed his forehead in the lightest of touches, but it was enough for him to be ensnared once again.
The goddess in front of him leant forward and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists of the armrests of the chair.
"What are you doing here, Shannon?" he asked, furiously fighting the urge to leap up and catch her mouth in a kiss that would set the world on fire.
A mere mortal's nondescript hearing would not have caught the millisecond of hesitation before she answered. "I was in the area. I wanted to see how you were managing. I heard you have a new wife."
"No, Shannon. I mean what are you doing here. In my office. How did you get in?"
Frederick was boring his eyes into his lap. Athena slipped her slender fingers underneath his chin and lifted his face.
"There are things you don't know about, Frederick," she murmured. "Things you can't know about."
"Tell me why you left us," Frederick begged softly. "Tell me why you left me," his voice broke on me.
The woman he didn't know at all anymore leant back against the desk and gazed at him, something he couldn't recognise churning behind her calm visage.
"Please, Shannon."
It was the use of her alias that finally made her purse her stained dark red lips and sweep her hair back off her neck like she was hot.
"Frederick," she enunciated, a hint of what could have been nervousness tinting her voice. "My name isn't Shannon."
October, 2009
Percy sat on the sand with his seal tail curled up next to him. The sea weed on the sea bed swayed gently with the current, and it was strangely peaceful.
The only thing that suggested that everything was not perfect were the royal blue tears of the Mer streaming from the Sea Prince's eyes.
"Prince Perseus," a voice said behind him, and Percy turned to see his father's closest advisor, Jordan the Giant Squid, looking at him with an eager glint in his eye. Percy wasn't sure whether he was relieved that it was only the giant Squid, or slightly terrified that it was Jordan of all sea creatures to seek him out.
Jordan was like the wise old man of the sea, except he was rather young for a giant squid and he wasn't so much wise as eccentric.
Percy liked him, despite the common belief that Jordan devised ways to dissect Mer people in their sleep for fun.
But right now, Percy was not in the mood for the Squid's philosophical babblings about things that did not concern him in the slightest.
"Your great Squidliness," Percy greeted, which was the Squid's preferred title. Usually, Percy had to fight not to smile but in the last few months, to smile was like committing sacrilege.
Every time he felt the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips, he would see an impression of grey irises in his mind's eye, a blinding golden owl every time he blinked. He would feel the pressure of her mouth against his and the rush of adrenaline as her fingers ran up his spine and tangled in his hair.
Then he would remember the cruel spike of agony as he breathed air for the first time, and the loss he felt when he saw the locket flash as it sank towards the depths of the ocean. The torment he saw in her beautiful face as she swam away from him for the last time.
The smile would fade away and his face would settle back into a grim scowl.
"Your father summons you to the agora—"
Percy rolled his eyes and glared down at his tail which he still wasn't used to. Some days he still woke up and had to double check that he wasn't hallucinating. He cut Jordan off. "Tell him he can summon all he wants—"
"—as he has been doing for months on end," Jordan finished, not heeding Percy's interruption.
"—but he lost the right to summon me whenever it suits him the day he took my freedom away."
"Freedom? He gave you freedom. Those spindly sticks you called legs hindered you, Prince."
Percy rolled his eyes again and leant back on his elbows, his gaze pinned to the distorted images beyond the Skin of the ocean.
"You're making a grave mistake, defying the Sea Lord," the Squid advised.
"I didn't think you would be one to follow the rules, Your Squidliness," Percy remarked vaguely.
"I'm a creature of the dark depths, the ambassador of your bleakest nightmares. I don't concern myself with the affairs of the simple Merfolk. I follow no one. Even the Sea Lord in all his power and splendour fears me."
The Giant Squid began to leak black ink, and Percy felt a mixture of disgust and fascination at the monstrosity in front of him.
"Prince Percy, I have only your greatest interests in mind when I advise you not to ignore a summons from your father."
Percy remained unresponsive to the Squid's advice, focused as he was on the bent and twisted forms above the water, wavering in the sun's refracted rays.
"Only dire repercussions will ensue," the Squid's voice whispered as he disappeared in a swirl of black ink.
October, 2009
A shadow fell over her book, and Annabeth glanced up in surprise. A tall boy with blond hair and an arrogant smirk stood over her, and she shrunk away from his menacing disposition.
It was Luke Castellan, the guy every girl wanted, the guy every guy wanted to be, and the absolute bane of her existence.
The sun haloed his hair in a golden shroud of glory, and his arms were crossed like he meant business.
Annabeth went back to her book. She was up to a suspenseful part, and had no time for whatever stupid question Luke was going to ask this time.
Lately, he had begun approaching her in during lunch break and after school to ask stupid questions to which she would give answers just as stupid.
"How does milk stay good inside a cow's stomach without refrigeration?" he would ask with a stupid grin on his face.
"I don't know," she would snap irritably. "Why don't you ask your cow of a girlfriend?"
"What happens if you get scared half to death twice?" he would ask with a pretence of seriousness but a mocking undertone.
"If you don't get lost right now I'll show you exactly what happens," she would threaten, somehow looking feisty and adorable, like a fluffy bunny rabbit baring its teeth.
He would walk away hiding a small smile.
"What happens when bees don't wax?"
"You've somehow progressed from extremely ridiculous to just plain stupid."
Somehow, in her moping about Percy, Annabeth missed the fact that the most popular boy in school was working his way up to asking her out.
August, 2009
"What?" Frederick stared up at the goddess in disguise, dumbfounded by her revelation. He shook his head in disbelief. "You- you can't just spring that on someone. You're saying that for twenty years, you've been lying to everyone you know?"
She didn't respond. Her face was about as emotionally yielding as a brick wall.
Frederick was absolutely dumbfounded. This woman, whom he loved more than love itself, had just told him that for almost twenty years, he hadn't even known her real name.
Frederick's fingers curled tightly around the armrest like he was cutting off its circulation. "If your name isn't Shannon, what is it?"
Her lips twitched in response to his question.
She always did that when she was considering something unpleasant.
And then he found himself thinking that her name didn't matter. The fact that he knew the smallest little traits and characteristics about her was what mattered.
The woman whom he could no longer call Shannon sighed, and she suddenly did not resemble a forty something year old woman who looked young for her age.
Her face held the unique beauty of a striking, attractive older woman. But her eyes terrified him in a way he would never admit out loud— they were stormy grey and timeless, like she had seen ages of grief and suffering pass.
Lost in her eyes for a ceaseless second, Frederick saw the rotting black skin of the plague, the bloodied mud of a war field, the dancing smoke of a devastating house fire, the tearstained faces of the aggrieved, the stricken looks of the afflicted, the vengeful gleam of the eye of a madman out for revenge.
Frederick shuddered violently in his chair. She was extraordinary.
"Athena," she whispered, finally giving into his pleas.
Athena. The name reverberated through his head, and every one of his nerves zinged with interest.
"Athena," he whispered, tasting the name on his lips. "Goddess of wisdom," Frederick said, and his eyes lit up with fascination. This was so much cooler than he had bargained for. He was a historian after all; history was his passion. "Is there a reason why you were named after the goddess of wisdom?"
Athena looked at him, and her eyes betrayed nothing. She knelt before him in the chair and took one of his hands in her own. "Are you open to learning new things, Frederick?"
"Athena…" he paused and had to swallow the sudden marble in his throat. "You know it's a pre- requisite for my job to be open to new concepts and information that could change everything we thought about the world."
Athena smiled grimly. "I knew I loved you for a reason, Frederick."
I knew I picked you to love for a reason, she thought.
"What I tell you, Frederick, you must vow to keep only between us and in this room."
Frederick leant forward in the chair, grasping her hands tighter. Their faces were mere centimetres apart, and he gulped at the closeness. His curiosity for what she was about to say overrode his need to kiss her.
"I am the goddess of wisdom from your myths," she whispered and rested her forehead on his.
He pulled back and gazed at her with clear blue eyes. He was either taking it really well, or not at all seriously because he hadn't seemed to react in any way even the slightest startled. "Do you know how crazy that sounds, darling?"
His hand crept up to touch her hair. She didn't cringe away from him.
"I believe you," he breathed into her ear and that's when she flinched back in surprise.
It didn't matter.
He'd already pressed his mouth against hers like he had longed to do for a decade.
October, 2009
"So, I have a question," Luke began and shifted uncomfortably in front of Annabeth.
She finally snapped.
"I don't know what you problem is, but if you don't stop—"
"Are you free tomorrow night?"
Annabeth stared at him in shocked silence, sentence completely forgotten.
Is he asking me out?
No way. It's Luke Castellan. You're 'The Freak'.
But he just…
Say yes.
Say no.
Shit.
"Ugh…" was all that came out of her mouth, and she resisted the urge to slap herself. She was Annabeth Chase. She always had a smart retort.
Making a sound like you were about to be sick was about as smart as saying 'Har har' in response to an insult.
Stupid.
"I'm busy," she finally hissed.
She made to storm past him (imagining herself slamming her book in his face in the process) but he caught her arm.
"How about tonight, then?"
She stared at him again, unsure of what to say. "I've already got a date," was what was finally spewed out of her mouth.
She tugged her arm out of his grasp and walked off with an angry swing in her hips.
Luke crossed his arms and appraised the younger girl with raised eyebrows as she fumed off, blond ponytail swinging seductively in time with her hips.
October, 2009
"Hi Percy," Annabeth said shyly. She hadn't really talked to him since their mind blowing kiss under the sea, and she missed him.
To be fair, they couldn't physically talk.
The breeze embraced her in a balmy welcome, as she settled down on the damp shoreline with a blanket. It was early evening, and the sunset that might have been a gorgeous blend of vermillion and blood orange was covered by black clouds. A storm was on the rise, then. The water should have been choppy. But it was completely flat. A corner of her mouth twitched nostalgically. He was doing it for her.
"I miss you."
She felt a gentle stroke against her cheek and sighed, wishing she could lean into it. Wishing for the impossible.
"A boy asked me on a date today."
The wind picked up hot and dry, angry. Sand blew into her eyes.
"Ow!" she cried, rubbing her eye. "Percy! I didn't say yes. The guy's a complete jackass."
The rough gust died down, and the water lapped further up the shoreline like it wanted to reach her. Annabeth smiled her first real smile in months. She stood up, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and moved towards the water.
She hesitantly dipped a toe in, and was actually surprised when it didn't kill her.
It made her thoughtful. What had kept her from entering the water all these months? The vague threat of a preoccupied Sea God?
Pfft. Nothing, that's what. Poseidon had forgotten all about her by now.
The wind began blowing insistently, and Annabeth giggled. She let the wind direct her to where it wanted her to head, and she couldn't stop smiling as she climbed up a sand dune and ended up on a rocky outcrop that overlooked the sea.
Up here, without the protection that the dunes offered the cove, an insistent gale shrieked, and waves crashed over the rocks, white froth filling all the nooks and crannies in the outcrop. The ferocious wind whipped her hair back and forth, into her eyes, into her mouth, and Annabeth regretted not tying her hair back. The sea made a sucking sound as the water drained out of the rocks, and then suddenly another series of waves was rolling over the rocks, spraying salt water into her eyes.
It was utterly exhilarating, and Annabeth hadn't felt so alive in a long time.
She dropped her blanket on the sand and clambered over the slippery rocks on her hands and knees and pressed her stomach to the ground as an errant wave splashed over her. The water was freezing, but it was alive.
Hanging her head over the edge of the outcrop, Annabeth stared intently into the water below, searching.
She met a pair of excited sea green eyes beneath the water, and as the wave surged over her head again, she could hear him.
"Hi…" the watery whisper echoed in her ears in their momentary shell of peace. Then it ended as the water trickled back into the ocean.
They both waited for the next wave, and that's when Percy held the water up with his limited power over his father's domain. The water hung in temporary silence, suspended in mid-air, and they were able to satisfy their longing for one another, at least for a minute or so.
"Hi," she said back, and reached an arm down into the abyss of floating water between them. Her fingers stretched as far as they could, and with a deft flick of his tail, he was up next to her head in the space of a blink, and her arm was around his neck, and his face was pressed against hers.
Her floating hair created a golden curtain around them, silencing the distant roaring of the waves, the murmur of sea life around them.
Creating an illusion of precious privacy.
She looked into his face. "Hi," she said again, at a complete loss for words. She reached her other arm around and touched his face in disbelief.
With no arms left to keep herself up on the ledge, Annabeth slipped into the water, and into Percy.
His arms locked around her and she squealed as the hovering wall of water tumbled down a few metres back into the ocean, taking her and Percy with it.
They drifted gently down to the shallows to rest on the soft sand.
Percy had created an air bubble around them, and they lay at ease on the sand, limbs tangled, arms wound tightly about each other. They lay in silence. But it was different from the silence they both experienced with their fathers.
This silence was wrought with unspoken messages and words of love. This silence had a thousand unvoiced meanings when not one word was uttered. This mere silence in which they shared was enough to satisfy months of angst.
Percy's fingers tangled in her wet hair, and he found that the weight on his chest had lifted after what seemed like an eternity of immensity.
For a second, just a second, everything was perfect.
Then her mother's words came back to Annabeth.
"Even when reincarnated, Ulysses and Parthenope can never be together… You and Percy, much the same."
It was at that moment that Annabeth felt something in the water change. It wasn't a physical change so much as a pressure pushing at her brain.
It felt… foreign. Almost hostile.
The weight pulsed in her head like it was alive.
"Percy," she whispered, sitting up. When he went to sit up with her, she placed a hand on his bare chest.
"Don't tell me," he murmured playfully, catching her hand and pressing his lips to her palm. "You missed me almost half as much as I missed you."
"Try ten times as much."
"I think not, milady." Green eyes glinted with mirth. She tugged her hand back, and giggled when he didn't let go.
With that startling speed of his, he was up within a split second, and she was caged beneath his strong, lithe body on the sandy seafloor, her hand stretched above her head, fingers threaded through his.
Gazing up into his dear face, she noticed that he looked different to how she remembered.
Older. Sharper. More handsome. Much as Annabeth hated his father for what the Sea God had done to separate them, she had to admit that the god had blessed his youngest son with a face beautiful enough to melt stone.
"You're a riot," she raised an eyebrow, not willing to let on how his nearness excited and terrified her. She wondered if he would kiss her again. He seemed to be considering the same things as his eyes flickered between her mouth and her eyes.
Who knows. They might have kissed. They might have simply rolled over and talked.
Well, whoever the hell knows, it certainly wasn't them.
Because with an agonising abruptness, the thing inside of her head yanked sharply and she cringed ever so slightly, not wanting to spoil these few short, stolen moments with Percy by freaking out.
Why did they always have to meet under such dire circumstances?
She sat up, and in the blink of an eye, Percy was next to her again, tail curled beneath him, his hand in her hand, neither of them willing to relinquish physical contact with the other, even for a moment.
She touched her brow with her other hand and closed her eyes, forehead creased because something that was not quite pain but enough to be extremely uncomfortable.
"I think someone doesn't want me here," she said, and he reached his thumb out to gently smooth out the crease between her eyes. She relaxed under his touch. "The water— it's angry. It's saying horrible things," she said quietly. "I mean—" she laughed weakly and shook her head. "That's crazy, right? The water speaking."
Percy shook his head. "It's not crazy; the water always sings. But people are as deaf as they are blind. You just don't know how to open your ears to hear it. I guess being surrounded by ocean magic has finally opened your ears. You know," he said, glancing at her. "We could have been talking all these years. I just didn't know how to teach you to understand the song of the ocean."
Annabeth shook her head. "That's beside the point. I mean— it's… not pleasant. Maybe because I'm Athena's child. Or maybe it's because I'm human. Your father banished me from the ocean. The water remembers."
Yes, the water most definitely remembered.
Devil's spawn…
It was the voice in her head that had planted the thoughts of taking her life.
Should have just done it that night…
It was the nagging voice of self- doubt that always arose whenever she second guessed herself.
The water. It was teeming with such hatred, such loathing…
Percy closed his eyes, as if he were listening hard. His eyes suddenly snapped open. "You're right," he whispered. "I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have brought you here. The only thing keeping you alive right now is my presence." He stopped abruptly and his hand closed tighter around hers. He had suddenly realised the full extent of his carelessness. "They could have killed you for coming here."
Annabeth settled herself cross legged across from him and said softly, "I would have come anyway. Percy, these past few months—"
"I know," he nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. "For me too. But I shouldn't have brought you here, Annabeth."
His unsaid words were loud and clear in the pause that followed.
"No," her face crumpled in absolute devastation. "I can't go back yet. We've barely spoken a word to each other. Tell me about your last few months! Tell me something amazing that happened."
"Annabeth." Percy whispered.
"I don't even know anything about you! What's your favourite colour? Favourite animal? What's your best friend's name?" Annabeth was babbling, desperate to keep him talking. Desperate for more time to memorise the pleasant cadence of his voice, every sharp angle of his face, the silky texture of his ebony hair. Just desperate for him.
"Annabeth," his said again. She stopped and stared tearfully up at him. Suddenly, she cried out, and Percy caught her as her body toppled sideways. "What's wrong? Annabeth!"
She floundered helplessly in his arms, gasping, her eyes rolling back, furious whispers from unseen presences crowding their non-existent bubble of concealment; accusing, condemning.
Filthy two-legger. Wisdom's spawn.
Traitor prince to Merkind!
Percy shot up to the surface with his powerful tail, and deposited her gently onto the rocks again. He stared down at her beautiful face, slack with unconsciousness, and kissed her gently on the lips. He had no idea if they would ever meet again. It was just too dangerous for her.
Annabeth seemed to come out of her daze enough to realise that Percy was kissing her. She blindly reached an arm out to find his face, but all too soon he was pulling away and receding down into the depths of the water, his lip stinging and puffy where she had bitten him to keep him with her.
October, 2009
The mother of the ocean in all her infinitely old wisdom and might dwelled in a cave hidden deep in the bosom of the ocean, where not a single arm of sunlight had reached in five millennium to wash away the ugliness and evil that resided there.
Thalassa had slept for eons, but a storm had woken her. Not a physical storm; down here where the water was so heavy it could crush a continent, the comical efforts of Kymopoleia and her Anemoi** on the surface made no difference.
Thalassa could feel old foes rising against each other, old histories coming to light. She could feel the water, heavy as it was, bear the weight of old grudges and betrayals, loves and wars, grievances and miseries.
She could feel the traces of a tragic love story reverberate throughout the sea and into the land. She spread her Far Seeing Eye beyond her cave, beyond the Deep for the first time in an eternity of solitude, and the beginnings of a bellow to wake the dead rumbled in her throat.
This couldn't be happening again.
The Merboy and the human girl shared a kiss on the rocky shoreline, his hair streaming water, her arms flailing in the air, seeking to touch his body.
Thalassa, connected intimately to all the Mer in her domain, could feel the sting as the human bit him on the lip when he tried to pull away. She could feel the raw agony that laced through his body as he looked down at the human's face, and dove back into the water.
She felt the hiss of air in her throat when he whispered in the tongue of humanity, "And my favourite colour is blue…"
Thalassa withdrew from her trance and gazed blindly into the murky water, shadows profound and opaque as soli bodies crowding the empty water.
She pondered the past, and sank into a thoughtful reverie, cries of bygone eras and curses crushing her beneath an all new echelon of grief.
October, 2009
Annabeth tussled with the urge to scream in frustration. He'd been so close. For a moment, everything had been perfect. For a single moment, everything she'd ever wanted had been within reach. If she'd held tighter, fought harder, she could have grasped it firmer. She'd still have Percy.
She staggered down from the rocks where he'd left her, and, with the heaviness back upon her, Annabeth swiped her blanket from the ground with an uncharacteristic anger, and shook the sand out of it.
And that's when she saw something that made her spirits sink even lower, down into the ground, beyond her feet, beyond Hell, even.
"Hey!" a figure called from down in the cove.
Luke Castellan, striding down the beach, looking messily attractive and like a model out on a shoot.
Why me? She wondered sadly, suddenly feeling lost as she stopped in her tracks, blanket hanging loosely from her hands. Any other girl would kill to have him hanging off her like a leech. Except me.
Feeling guilty for some reason, she slid down the sand to meet him at the foot of the dune.
"You said you have a date," Luke said, frowning at her, hands in pockets.
Annabeth glanced down the beach, but it looked like help wasn't coming in the form of her dad.
The breeze had died completely down. The air was tense. Waiting. The waves were starting to pick up, the whooshing a suspenseful soundtrack to the drama that was about to play out.
She shrugged, and kicked the sand, not feeling very sympathetic towards him. "I lied."
Luke stared at her, his forehead creased. "You could've just told me you don't want to date me."
"I'm too young for you."
"That's not an excuse. You're almost fifteen. You know what Casey Green did when she was twelve?"
Annabeth stared at her crossed arms stonily. "Everyone knows what Casey did. She was the one who took the picture of herself and pinned it on the notice board."
"I never heard that part of the story."
Annabeth didn't respond, not in the mood to reiterate three year old gossip that was meaningless to her.
"C'mon, Annabeth. What are you afraid of?" Luke grabbed her arm, and that's when she snapped.
She glared up at him, suddenly feeling malicious as a wasp that had been stepped on; she would go down stinging, making sure that at least someone else hurt as much as she did. She didn't bother to hide the tears of frustration in her eyes. "Why can't you take a hint, you jerk?" she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and pushed past him. "I hate you. I want you to leave me alone, and if you ever talk to me again I'll punch you so hard you'll never be pretty again!"
Luke, utterly shocked by her emotional outburst, was too dumbfounded to be upset, or offended or even angry with her. As she stormed off down the beach, her blond hair long and streaming, blanket thrown over her shoulder, he only stared, puzzled at what the hell he had done wrong.
August, 2009
Time was funny. The kiss, which in reality probably lasted a second or so, seemed the stretch on for their own personal timelessness. Her hands touched his neck, hot with exhilaration he hadn't felt in a decade, and he sighed.
"I love you," he whispered, after she'd pulled away, her cheeks unusually flushed for someone so emotionally detached.
The silence that followed was wrought with tension as Frederick inadvertently waited for a reply that didn't come.
To break the awkward silence, he asked softly, half dreading the answer, "Does Annabeth know?"
"I told her a few weeks ago," Athena said, her voice tight. Frederick was unable to quell the feeling of betrayal that rose inside of him at this new information. How could Annabeth forget to mention this one tiny detail… that her mother had returned after a decade of loneliness and confused speculation! His silent question was answered by Athena's next words. "I have blocked it from her memory until her subconscious mind knows it is the right time to process it fully."
Still reeling in shock, Frederick was unable to think about anything else but this woman in front of him. Annabeth could wait. He reached up and ran his fingers down her arm to lace his fingers through hers.
Her hand remained limp and cold in his.
"Don't leave me again." He honestly couldn't help himself. He couldn't remember that just a flight of stairs away, a woman waited for a husband and two young boys waited for a father. Nothing mattered when she was near him. It was just like old times…
Athena stared down at him, and if she hadn't been who she was, Frederick would have sworn that her eyes were misted over. "I must. My sovereign summons me."
"But… I love you." It was all that Frederick could muster to come out of his mouth. His voice, usually so broad and jolly, seemed small in comparison, a sad whisper.
Athena knelt in front of him and kissed his shaking hands, and holding them tight against her heart, she whispered, "From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate, Frederick. Do not hang onto your love for me, because it is fruitless. Give up the pretences, and admit that you have not loved me for a long time. When I leave here tonight, you will see that in fact, this burning feeling in your heart is an ugly hate that has been brewing for many years."
"No," Frederick murmured, leaning forward to kiss her again, but she caught his face with her hands. "I could never hate you, darling. Please…"
"Goodbye, Frederick," she said, her mouth sagging at the corners. "For good, this time."
"Promise you'll come back," he all but begged, making to stand up from his office chair. An intangible force held him in place.
The goddess gazed down at him sadly. "I won't make promises I can't keep."
"No!" he struggled with his invisible bonds as she stepped back. "Sha— Athena! Just, just please—"
"Be happy, my love" Athena breathed, and the world turned on its axis in an explosion of brilliant golden light.
A beautiful woman treads water in a rock pool. Her amber eyes shine with a hungry light, and long blond hair fans out around her in the water.
A twig snaps behind her, and when she smiles, her pointed teeth gleam.
She turns, water rippling gently from her movements, lapping at the shore of the pool. "Hello, King of Men," she greets in a murmur, beginning to swim slowly towards where a tall, handsome man with curly dark hair stands on shore staring down at her, his dark eyes alight with longing and desire.
She climbs out of the pool. Her skin is fair and flawless and glows radiantly, as if a surreal light shone from her inside out.
Her wet hair hugs her naked body, and the man's gaze is locked on her as she finally emerges from the water, and wraps her body around his. They kiss passionately, the pain of their separation worth the pleasure of their particular type of reunion.
"Dear Parthenope," King Odysseus breathes, running his hands over her soft body and hugging her to him. "I came as soon as I could."
"You have been away too long, my love," the siren whispers in his ear. "We met nigh two summers ago, but I have come to… hunger for your presence."
"And many more summers will pass before I will leave you again, dearest," he murmurs. "Will you sing for me?"
The siren's mouth opens, and pure beauty, raw power surges out in a melodious melee of musicality.
As she sings, the man touches and kisses her, and soon enough, they fall heatedly into the pool, both as ensnared by one another as the other.
Eight more summers pass in a swirl of passion and romance before Parthenope releases her lover from her spell and the king of Ithaca realises that he has been away from his wife and kingdom for ten long years.
They part reluctantly and neither siren nor man is without regrets.
And they would never have parted if they had they known that this separation would have sewn into the Fate's intricate tapestry five millennium of heart ache and anguish for their descendants, marring their fateful love for all time.
August, 2009
Frederick had locked himself in his study. His premature greying hair was tousled from having his fingers run through it so many times. The tick of the analogue clock was unnervingly loud in the silent room.
6:57pm it read. Exactly sixteen minutes he'd been sitting there, staring at the unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker that sat serenely in front of him.
Except… it hadn't been. It had felt more like hours.
It all came back to him. Shannon had been in his office. Shannon had kissed him… and her name wasn't Shannon.
The minute hand moved, and the clock now read 6:58.
This wasn't possible. No time had passed at all, and yet he felt as drained as if he had been awake for a lifetime.
"No!" he banged his fist on his desk, and clutched his head in his hands. "Damn you, damn you!"
He'd let her slip out of his grasp yet again.
His trembling hands reached out blindly for the squat bottle of liqueur on the desk. The lid was wrenched off the bottle and chucked towards the vicinity of the bin. The alcohol burned down his throat, quenching his desire for numbness, and he sat there in that cursed office in a dumb haze.
Minutes, hours ticked by, and in his oblivious state, the only thing he was aware if was that damned clock ticking, tracking the progression of the night. At some point, Sue walked in, and spoke to him, and he nodded, and kissed her goodnight, as if he was perfectly fine and he had heard and understood every word she said and he wasn't dead- drunk, and then took another gulp of the liquid fire that soothed his pain more than any pills, words or actions in the entire world did.
Frederick opened his eyes. The sun was just starting to poke its fiery head above the horizon. He groaned, and hooked his elbow over his face to shield his eyes from the bright glare. An empty bottle of whiskey was still clenched in his hand.
He remembered everything as clearly as if it had happened a minute ago. The whiskey hadn't done its job the way he had silently begged it to.
An image of an innocent white envelope hovered in the peripheral vision of his mind's eye.
Two women melded into one— wavy blond hair and grey eyes.
An owl.
A little girl.
He shook his head to clear the hazy remnants of the alcohol.
Annabeth was still missing. Shannon— Athena was still gone.
Frederick went to stand up, and bile rushed up from his stomach so suddenly that he might have ruined the upholstery of his favourite office chair right then and there if he hadn't just managed to keep it down. He wisely decided that he desperately needed some air.
The beach, he thought, and twenty minutes later, he wiped his mouth and stood up straight, feeling infinitely better but still extremely bad.
He stumbled off to the side away from the mess he'd made, and collapsed on something sharp and bony. In his extremely inebriated state, he didn't realise it was Annabeth.
He'd started snoring before he'd even closed his eyes.
"Dad?" she jumped. "What are you doing?"
A loud monster truck snore came from his open mouth and Annabeth felt herself redden with anger as she pushed his bulky body off of her.
"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 stubbled face and closed his eyes. "You can't talk, Anna."
Then his eyes snapped open and locked onto her face. "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. "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, and a bitter, sarcastic laugh echoed through Frederick's head.
His daughter would never know how those words struck him in the heart like a bullet shot from an AK- 47.
He didn't notice her begin to cry silently when he answered in a broken whisper, "Yes."
December, 2009
"You said you feel sad when other people are happy. Is there a reason for this, Annabeth?" Dr Freigh asked, her voice soft and kind.
Annabeth shrugged. "I'm a horrible person?" she muttered, and leant back in the armchair, crossing her arms.
Dr Freigh appraised the teenager in front of her for a moment.
"On a scale of one to ten, what's your mood like today? One being the worst you've ever felt, and ten being the best."
Annabeth picked at a loose thread on her denim shorts. "I don't know how to put a number to my feelings."
Dr Freigh sighed, unable to show how frustrated this girl made her. In the last month and a half, they'd had six sessions together, and no positive results had been yielded. In fact, the psychologist had noticed that the more time that passed, the more Annabeth's depression escalated. Dr Freigh was becoming seriously concerned for the girl's mental state.
An alarm on the psychologist's cell phone buzzed, signalling the end of the session. Annabeth had come to love that sound. It meant the end of this pointless torture.
Dr Freigh sighed at the look of resolute distaste on Annabeth's face. The day they had met, the psychologist thought of all her years of helping troubled teens, and had known what type Annabeth was straight away: the type that was close minded to help. The stubborn, proud, angry type that would rather kill herself than admit that she desperately needed help, and in the deepest, most stowaway part of her heart, she desperately wanted help. The psychologist braced herself for yet another speech she would have to present to the ignorant parents about another kid whom they were wasting their money trying to get professional help for.
Some kids just couldn't be helped.
Except, Dr Freigh suspected that in Annabeth's case, the word wouldn't would be more appropriate.
Page break
December, 2009
"Anna," Sue said, holding a neatly folded piece of paper in her hand. "I found this in your school skirt pocket when I put the washing on. Why didn't you tell us? I would have been happy to take you."
Annabeth held her hand out for the flyer. She knew what it said without even looking at it.
XMAS PARTY
19th DECEMBER
LUKE C'S PLACE
15 GROVE STREET, SAN FRANSISCO
7PM TO 12AM
Sue watched in dismay as Annabeth didn't even glance at the flyer before slowly and methodically tearing the paper into thin spaghetti strips, inspecting the results in her palm carefully like she was conducting an important and very hazardous science experiment, then proceeding to toss the destroyed remains of the party flyer into the kitchen bin.
"Luke. He's that nice boy that came to see you last month, isn't he?" Sue asked.
"Don't start, Sue," Annabeth grumbled, purposely avoiding mentioning Luke, Sue noticed. "I hate parties. You know that."
Annabeth grabbed a box of shortbread biscuits from the pantry and stomped up the stairs.
Susan kneaded her temples. She was at a complete loss of what to do for the girl. Annabeth had rejected countless psychologists, she had no friends, hardly ever spoke, had failed most of her year 10 subjects, and was not only acting like a kicked puppy all the time, but looked physically sick.
Maybe Annabeth needed a higher level of help.
Maybe she needed to stay in a hospital for a while.
Page break
December, 2009
"Son," a voice said behind Percy. The Sea Prince gulped. He'd been avoiding his father for months, and now the Sea Lord sounded livid. "We need to talk."
Percy spun to look his father for the first time since that night so many eves ago. "I have nothing to say."
"Perseus," Poseidon began, but at once he stopped. He looked at his son, staring balefully up at him, and for the first time in all these months, he felt the stirrings of guilt.
The tail was the glory and pride of the Mer. To have one was an honour, an honour that Percy blatantly and carelessly disregarded. Poseidon had thought that within a few days, his son would come to understand the honour bestowed upon him. All these years, the Sea God had wondered if Percy had secretly yearned to be a part of the closely knit Mer society that he was excluded from because of his human legs.
Poseidon realised that he had massively misread the situation.
His son despised him for what he had done.
And not seeing that human girl… it was really having an impact on him. Percy looked positively dreadful. His face was haggard, his movements sluggish. Thinking about the Air was dangerous, especially for a half breed like Percy. It was encumbering his ability to draw oxygen from the water, and if Percy continued living like this, half in one world, half in another, never truly belonging, he would slowly and surely die.
As the Sea God regarded his son, he felt a sense of vertigo.
The ground hard under his soft feet.
Waking up on a human mattress, spitting black, wavy hair, soft like silk, out of his mouth.
Green eyes and laughter.
The heart breaking knowledge that he could never stay and she could never leave.
Poseidon almost said something. He almost said sorry.
But he bit his tongue, eager to get straight to the point.
"You're sixteen, Percy, and it's time that you started considering betrothal. I've already taken the liberty of arranging for you to meet some of the most promising prospects for your future wife, and the future queen of the Sea. Nereus would be honoured to introduce to you his most beautiful daughters. Tonight."
Percy shot up, almost spewing. "What?!"
"It's an honour to introduce to you my most beautiful daughter Aglaope, My Prince," Nereus bowed, and Percy was sure he was doing a terrible job at masking his hostility. Not only was Nereus the father of the siren Parthenope, the creature responsible for the curse that kept him from Annabeth, but the shapeshifter was also the father of this Nereid, who was undoubtedly beautiful, whose name literally meant beautiful face, but nothing compared to his Annabeth.
"Pleasure is mine, Nereus," Percy said stiffly, and tried to smile at Aglaope. Her golden hair was braided elaborately, and woven with gleaming jewels. Her fair skin was flawless, and her blue green eyes shone with a mischievous light that reminded Percy of himself. Her small, pink mouth curved into a lovely smile as she knelt before the Sea Prince in respect.
"I'm honoured to meet you, Prince Perseus." The Nereid straightened, and retreated back into her father's shadow.
"I trust you two will dance the first dance at the gala tomorrow night," Nereus said, eyeing Percy sternly.
"It would be my pleasure," Percy said gloomily.
New Year's Eve, 2009
11:10pm
Things couldn't get much worse. Annabeth was sick of everything. Sick of pretending she was fine, of pretending at every day wasn't a struggle, pretending that she didn't miss Percy with every single cell in her body.
That night, she had stolen a six pack of her dad's Dark and Stormy.
She didn't want to kill herself.
But she just wanted escape. Escape from the pain.
The ocean was calling her. Percy was calling her. She could feel it.
11:26pm
Sitting on the sand, downing gulp after gulp of the strong, sweet alcohol, Annabeth felt disconnected to herself.
This wasn't her, this angry girl who drank alcohol and hated everything. What happened to the little girl that spoke to dolphins and collected seashells, the girl who wore oversized glasses and two blond pig tails and read a new book every day?
11:47pm
"Percy?" Annabeth whispered. "Are you there?"
No response.
"It's okay," she said quietly. "I'm starting to give up hope as well. Maybe it's best if we don't see each other anymore. Maybe it's best if we admit to ourselves that we're just stupid kids who don't even know what love is."
Annabeth took another swig of the sugary alcohol, and hugged her knees, staring sadly out to sea, wondering where her black haired, green eyed boy had gone.
"I mean, maybe we only feel we have to be together because we've been told we can't be together. Maybe it's not true love."
Annabeth barked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.
"Or maybe I'm just kidding myself. Every day I feel more crazed and angry. I never thought it was possible to miss someone so much. Percy, I don't know what love is. I don't know if what I feel for you is love, or- or maybe I… I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to defy everyone who told me I couldn't have you."
She threw her head back and finished the dregs of can number four. She was starting to feel like she was moving in slow motion, her limbs slowed by invisible hands that latched onto her and held her back.
The alcohol is starting to work, she thought vaguely in the back of her mind.
Good.
"All I know is," she continued, her words starting to trip over each other and slur together. She crumpled the can in her hand and with spaghetti fingers, reached for the fifth can of drink. "Every day, I miss you more and more and I don't know—" she hiccupped, "how long I can go on. I don't want to kill myself any more, I truly don't, but…" she looked down at the unopened can of alcohol in her hand, and suddenly hurled it as far as she could away from her.
"Percy!" she sobbed. "I don't want to be like this anymore!"
In the distance, she heard thousands of people counting down, and glanced at her watch in surprise.
11:59pm
With tears staining her face, Annabeth stared out to sea. "It's human tradition to kiss our loved one at exactly midnight on New Year's Eve. Percy, if you're there, I want you to know…"
At the exact moment that the sky lit up in a kaleidoscope of explosive sounds and vibrant colours from the fireworks, the waves responded, and a sea gull cried out to her. The wind tugged at her hair, and she smiled, her heart leaping.
Her green eyed boy hadn't deserted her yet.
"Percy," she mumbled. "I swear, one day, I'll kiss you for real on New Year's Eve. One day, I won't dream of holding you because I will be holding you."
She settled back on the sand, surrounded by empty cans of Bundaberg.
"One day," she whispered, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as the breeze caressed her sweaty face gently, "everything will be perfect."
* Anemoi- storm spirits
** Kymopoleia- to those of you who don't remember, she's the goddess of sea storms who got angry in the Heroes of Olympus series because she didn't get enough recognition from mortals
As I mentioned before, this was mainly just a filler chapter to tie in some loose ends.
Please tell me what you think of the story so far, I like constructive criticism, and if you notice any grammatical errors or contradictories in the storyline please let me know ASAP.
It's such a long story that it's a bit hard to keep track of every aspect of the plot.
Okay, I think I'm done now.
Until next time,
MashPotatoeSquishBanana :)