The war was devastating for everyone, Percy and Annabeth in particular. They were the only remaining members of the Seven, and spent most of their time alone in cabin three.
On this particular day, like every other, they were cuddled together on Percy's couch. The two whispered soft words to one another, so soft that anyone listening in wouldn't be able to discern them at all.
Piper and Jason's deaths were the worst of all. They were sacrificed on an ancient altar in Athens, while the rest of the Seven were forced to watch.
Annabeth struggled to get the horrible image out of her head, but it wouldn't go away, not now, and probably not ever. So she did the one thing she could do, she leaned closer into Percy's chest and cried herself to sleep.
She had him, would always have him, and not even the gods could change that.