"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow! Percy Jackson! Slow down, I can't keep up!" Annabeth grimaced in pain as she clutched at the pain in her leg. She peeled back part of her sweatpants, sticky with her blood and looked at the wound closely. It was hard to see because it was getting dark in the arena, but she could tell that, although the cut wasn't fatal in the least, it would hamper her movements and cause her pain. She limped along after Percy, irritatingly blowing a strand of blond hair from her eyes. She hated that she'd gotten injured so easily, even though Percy swore over and over that the boy had merely been lucky with his strike. It didn't matter to her though: she was Annabeth Chase for crying out loud! She'd led a team of half-bloods through Daedalus' labyrinth and managed to get out alive! She'd held the weight of the sky on her shoulders (and had a gray streak of hair to prove it)! She'd survived the Battle of the Labyrinth and the Battle of Manhattan! She was a daughter of Athena, goddess of wisdom and battle strategy! How could she be caught off guard and be injured that way.
She called out once again and Percy returned, wiping his brow of sweat before shaking his head. "I'm sorry Annabeth," he said softly as he eased her arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and supported her weight as they began to trudge through the forest floor. She looked up at his face, barely able to make out the son of Poseidon's sea-green eyes, almost allowing a smile to play across her face before pain flashed across her leg, causing Annabeth to bite her lip in pain.
"Don't be sorry, Seaweed Brain," she told him. "It's my fault anyways. Wasn't paying attention and got caught with that random throwing knife. If it hadn't been for me, we wouldn't be in this situation."
"No Annabeth," Percy replied a little icily. "If anything, it's my fault." She stared at him as they hobbled along, asking him what he'd meant, but the son of Poseidon was silent, withdrawn and not willingly to share with his companion. That worried Annabeth, more than her leg and more than being trapped in the twisted Games of the Titans. Percy was never hard to read for Annabeth, at least most of the time, but now she honestly couldn't tell what was going on in his head, and that disturbed her. When the Titans captured their half-blood prisoners, they'd made it a point to separate Percy from Annabeth, and thus she hadn't seen her friend for almost two-and-a-half years. She'd spent that time trying to stay level-headed, to try and keep the spirits of her demigod brethren alive. At least, she could affect the persona she needed when she was around the other prisoners of war. When she was alone, she was rattled to the core. Everything had fallen apart around her and when she needed Percy to be there the most he was withheld from her and it almost drove her insane. She realized that the Titans figured out who the masterminds of the failed plot to protect Olympus was and had kept them apart to prevent them from planning again and raising a rebel army from the prisoners. And then, to add insult to injury, both she and Percy were locked into the Games, to be forced to potentially kill each other or at least watch helplessly as someone else did the job. Annabeth visibly shuddered at the thought and refused to think further than that and decided to focus on the positive. She was here, relatively safe and with Percy again. What the Titans didn't plan on was that, even in the confines of the arena, Annabeth was planning and strategizing, observing every detail that might help her bust out with Percy.
"You okay, Wise Girl?" Percy asked Annabeth, noticing her shudder and sudden lack of movement while they made their way through the foliage. "Do we need to stop for the night?"
Annabeth looked Percy in the eyes before rolling her own and thumping him in the forehead with her thumb. "No Seaweed Brain, I don't need to rest or stop. Let's keep going." Annabeth tried to support her own weight and stride off confidently but winced and stumbled on her leg, only barely steadied by Percy keeping her from falling.
The son of Poseidon had to fight to keep a straight face. "As you were saying, Wise Girl?"
Annabeth groaned softly, staring him in the face again. "Shut up, Seaweed Brain," she said, although she was glad inside to see a little bit of the Percy Jackson she'd known such a long time ago.
They continued to walk slowly as dusk turned into night, not hearing a sound from any other half-bloods still in the arena. When Percy saw a small cluster of trees, he tugged the daughter of Athena along. "Come on," he told her. "Let's head for those trees and rest for the night." Annabeth nodded, limping beside him. Percy laid Annabeth against an alcove made from two of the larger trees in the cluster and then put his finger over his lips. "I'll be right back Wise Girl. I'm going to make sure we're safe here." Annabeth nodded and pulled her dagger from her other hip, knowing that Percy would understand that she would keep watch from where she was.
As Percy stalked off, she stared at the dagger in her hands. It glowed with the same dull glow that all celestial bronze weapons did, but it didn't feel the same to her. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of the weapon she was holding. It was a celestial bronze dagger, but it wasn't hers. She sighed gently. She had no idea where that dagger would even be at. She'd lost it on Mount Olympus and chances were it was still up there. When they were captured, they were rid of all weapons and magical items.
Annabeth heard footsteps around the trees and bolted up for a second, but quickly relaxed when Percy slipped through a gap in the trees to sit across from her. "So far, so good," he whispered softly. "There's no one anywhere near us here far as I could tell. We should be fine for the night. We'll think of something in the morning." Percy jabbed his sword into the ground, and it produced a dull light for them. He tried to give Annabeth a smile, but it was a forced one, and he could not maintain it for long. The daughter of Athena knew that Percy felt the same way about his own weapon. He'd lost Riptide fighting with Kronos, and when they'd been captured, the sword didn't come back to him. This new weapon probably was too heavy, or too light, or just plain unbalanced for Percy.
She felt bad for him. So many things were off and she couldn't help him put the pieces back together…or rather, he wouldn't let her help. But all the same, she insisted on doing what she could for him. Annabeth forced herself back to her feet, using the trees as a crutch and limping her way to the son of Poseidon. She tripped over a root and collapsed, falling into the wiry, strong arms of Percy. The half-blood looked down into his arms, curling them around the girl in his lap. He took a glance at her thigh where she'd be cut, peeling back the cut-up sweatpants. "Are you okay? Can you move your leg?"
She stretched her leg and hissed in pain. "Only a little bit. It's too dark for me to be able to see, so I don't know what's wrong with it." He nodded and pulled her closer to him and opening his water bottle. He focused on the bottle until his gut clenched and the water leapt out and covered his hand.
Annabeth looked at him. "I thought you couldn't heal anymore."
Percy shrugged. "I can't. But we should still keep it clean and stuff." He placed his hand on the wound and gently massaged it. He could sense the water filling with blood and dirty and pulled his hand away, allowing the mess to fall away from his hand. He ripped off a part of his shirt and wrapped it around Annabeth's wound, prepared to tie it tight. Silently, she clamped down on his arm, steadying herself for the brief pain it would cause her.
When it was done, Annabeth looked up at him. "Thanks Seaweed Brain."
"No problem, Wise Girl. You'd do the same thing for me, and probably do it better too," he mentioned with a laugh. Annabeth smiled at him and looked into his sea-green eyes and found them completely focused on her for the first time in two-and-a-half years. Without noticing, she placed a hand on Percy's chest, using it to pull herself level with his own face. Percy looked at her, slightly confused as to what she was up to. In her head, she knew that he needed someone to be there for him. And if they weren't going to make it out of this arena alive, she wanted him to know that she was always going to be there for him. She leaned forward and captured his lips with her own, locking them into a searing kiss.
Lyca groaned as she stretched, waking her limbs up to get going for the day. She was still trying to shake the memory of killing that son of Ares the day before. She'd killed before, even killing enemy half-bloods, but killing him had unnerved her. She rotated her shoulders and hips while she thought to herself. She came to the conclusion that she was unnerved only because the boy had actually wanted to die, had been so broken that he wanted nothing more than release in the Underworld. The half-blood repacked her bag and looked around herself in an attempt to decide where to go next. She assumed that some of the others in the arena had chosen to make alliances with each other to increase the odds of winning or to eliminate the powerhouses in the Games.
She picked a direction that wasn't towards the field that she'd run from yesterday and began to walk, lost in her own thoughts and the necessity to survive, adopted from her namesake, her father's sacred animal. Lyca padded along quietly, watching her surroundings carefully. She remembered last night, when the Titans showed the world (and the captives of the Games) who had been killed in the arena. In her head, Lyca counted off eight half-bloods dead, which left sixteen in the arena that day. She shook her head, knowing that more would join them by the end of the night. At the same time though, she was a little happy because the boy who'd helped her twice hadn't been one of the ones killed; in fact, Lyca had only recognized one boy in the arena that had died. She remembered watching how he died when the Titans showed off their glory: the boy must have been a son of Hephaestus, because he had been bent over a bunch of scraps, trying to piece together something that would help him fight when he was speared from behind by another boy, lost in the bloodlust of the arena.
As she made her way through the trees, she had decided that the best thing was to try and find someone who would make an alliance with her. At this rate, her best chance of survival was to team up with someone. Now she just needed to think of the right person to team up with. She tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear as she moved, hoping at the very least to keep out of sight.
Lyca managed to travel for a couple more hours before she began to realize she was getting hungry. Inwardly, she swore, knowing that she'd forgotten something vital to her survival. They wouldn't have us fight in here unless there was food, Lyca thought to herself, scanning the immediate area for some kind of food. She walked with her head up, looking through the trees for some kind of fruit or maybe an animal she could kill and cook. She had been so focused on the search for food that she didn't notice she had stumbled into the path of a contender in the arena until she heard the snap of a twig.
Lyca's eyes snapped forward to see what made the sound as she unsheathed both of her daggers, prepared to fight again. What she saw was a boy watching her, his stubby short sword drawn. Her slender body began to drop low as she prepared to defend herself from this new threat. When the boy stepped closer, she noticed his blond hair and a familiar hard look etched in his face. Lyca slowly sidestepped, analyzing the boy in front of her with amber eyes. "It's you," she finally admitted, still on guard but coming out of her stance.
The boy blinked, and Lyca saw electric blue eyes following her every movement. "You're the girl from the platform. You killed that Ares kid." He still held tight to his sword, but held his by his side instead of pointing it towards her.
Lyca nodded stiffly, still seeing the boy's lifeless eyes as she dealt his final blow. "And you killed that guy with the spear who was coming at me."
"Yeah I did," the boy admitted. "What you did for the son of Ares, giving him an honorable death, I thought it was good that you did that for him."
"Thanks," Lyca said warily. "So, what about you? Are you going to attack me, or what?"
The boy used his sword to point at her. "I could say the same about you. You look like a wolf about to pounce on me."
"Seen a lot of wolves in your time?" Lyca asked him.
"I've seen a few," the boy responded, allowing the smallest of smiles to cross his face. "So, what are we going to do here?"
"Well, I'm not going to just put down my weapons."
The boy reached for his sheath and untied it from his waist and put the sword in it, holding it out in front of him. "Your turn." Lyca hesitated for a moment, as if it was a trap. She thought about it though: if he was going to kill her, he'd have let her die yesterday and not even had to deal with it now. She sheathed both blades and unstrapped the belt, holding it at her side. "On three, we throw them to that tree over there," he gestured with his head.
Lyca nodded, still tensed to jump and attack the boy with her own bare hands if she had to. "One…two…three!" She tossed the daggers toward the tree and watched the sword float through the air and land beside her daggers.
"So," Lyca started, "What's our next step?"
The boy stared at her. "Well, I'd settle for your name," he said finally, crossing his arms.
"My name is Lyca Bowyer," she told him, keeping her distance from her.
The boy walked up to her, extending his hand to her. "I'm Jason. Jason Grace."
A/N: Well I hope you guys are enjoying the story. I promised you Percy and Annabeth, and you got Percy and Annabeth. In addition, you guys got Jason, and I have to wonder how many of you knew that Jason was the one she was seeing...wait...I guess I pretty much gave that one away with his tattoo last chapter...oh well. Still two other unknowns to solve: the boy Lyca backhanded and her godly father. I will say this: no relation to Percy or Jason, and her hair and eye color don't speak to inherited traits from her father. But you might want to find out what Lyca means for a clue as to who her father is. He happens to use that animal for a sacred animal. Good luck!
Reviews are loved and appreciated!