Most of us have one—a little red string that loops around our pinkie and extends outward, invisible to anyone but ourselves.

Sometimes, we get lucky. The red string is nearby, connected to another individual across from us, their tiniest finger also blessed with that divine thread of fate.

Sometimes, we get unlucky. The string stretches on and on, over continents and across whole oceans, looping and crisscrossing around cities, circling around and around, no ending in sight. Sometimes it's impossible to find unless you are ready to commit years of your life to the endeavor, going through a wild goose-chase to hopefully find the individual that understands you on the most fundamental level. Sometimes, you never get the chance to make it to the end of the string.

Sometimes, there is no string. Sometimes, it's not yet visible because it's still being woven by the fates. You never really find out which one is which, until the end of your lifetime.


Percy Jackson didn't have a soulmate, and frankly, he didn't need one.

With wars breathing down his neck since he was twelve—and also, well, being twelve—the last thing Percy had needed was romance. He had a couple hundred monsters he needed to fight, a prophecy to fulfill, and a few evil entities from Tartarus to destroy.

The last thing he'd ever cared about was a fucking string on his pinkie, telling him who to smooch or make love to.

Luckily for him, Percy didn't even have a string. He was born without one, and throughout his whole life, he couldn't care less. No one had to know about his stringless status. He saw the tender way his mother touched her pinkie, the string not visible to him but worth everything to her. He felt a great sadness for her, as she'd never managed to find her soulmate, but he also was secretly bewildered by it all.

He could not for the life of him understand why people obsessed over their strings so much; the more they did, the more their love—which was supposedly sent from the fates and blessed by the heavens—seemed like a commodity.

He never knew who did or did not have strings. Kids at school used to brag about having them, but Percy never trusted their accounts one-hundred percent. He refused to believe Nancy Bobofit had a soulmate. No fucking way.

Everyone else though... He wasn't quite sure. Annabeth didn't have one, and she'd admitted it one night sobbing to him, telling him all about her feelings of unbelonging. As for the rest of the Seven...he was certain Hazel and Frank were connected; the other three teens, Piper, Jason, and Leo, he wasn't really sure of, cryptic as they were about the topic. They kept their string status to themselves, and Percy didn't really push it. It was a sensitive topic, after all.

It just wasn't as important to Percy though, because if his life had taught him anything, it was that this whole string bullshit was just that...bullshit. Strings only meant something in society because everyone was idiotic enough to put meaning behind it.

So that led to his great decision.

After the war, when life had settled back into a daily sludge-like routine, Percy Jackson made what could be described as an...unconventional choice. He gave a big, fat middle finger to the fates and did what he wanted.

He married Annabeth Chase, while stringless.

They kissed at the altar, their pinkies interlocked. Without any greater power dictating their love story, with their hearts joined together in metaphor and not spirit, Percy and Annabeth became a couple at the early, bright age of seventeen. The war was over, those summertimes in Camp Half-Blood long gone, and although Percy was still recoiling from the echoes of the Giant War, Percy was choosing to move on. To finally embrace happiness, by embracing his fiancée.

Percy had been decked out in a sharp, black tuxedo; Annabeth wore a long, white dress with lavender embroidery, her curly blonde hair done up with flower hairpins in a bun. She looked beautiful there, and Percy could not help the feeling of warmth expanding in his chest and rightness pounding in his heart.

It felt right. It was spectacular. Even Annabeth, a perfectionist, seemed to think the ceremony was glorious. The group of both demigods and mortals they had invited whooped and cheered, when they'd embraced, most of them clearly under the impression that the two were soulmates.

They broke the kiss, alight with joy, smiling at the vows they'd exchanged and the passionate kiss they'd just shared.

"This is fate," Annabeth whispered, soft enough for only the two of them to hear.

Percy smiled against her mouth. "No," he murmured, "this is better than fate."


After high-school, Annabeth had been accepted to a prestigious university, which had offered her a scholarship for architecture. At that time, the newlyweds had been sharing an apartment, spending their time both studying for exams and delightedly, sporadically dancing around the apartment, trying to soak up the joy they were feeling in the moment. However, the offer was a great opportunity, and it'd be stupid to miss out on it. Percy watched as Annabeth left, and not soon after, Percy also pursued college elsewhere, moving into a college dorm sometime later.

Their schools weren't all that far away though, luckily. On the weekends, they met up with another, sipping milkshakes at local diners and frequently repeating their first kiss at the altar. Percy talked about his two other roommates, two guys named Jimmy and Sleaze, who ordered pizza for every meal and played Dungeons & Dragons with an almost obsessive fervor. Annabeth regaled Percy about the beauty of her new college, the way the sloped staircase was so elegantly beautiful, and droned on about how she was excited to begin improving her architectural designs, hoping to impress teachers.

The distance seemingly made them closer, as they talked about their dreams and future hopes. They had plans. Big plans, larger-than-life plans, after school finished. They had plans so expansive they'd be foolish to anyone else—but the two of them had already lifted the world on their shoulders.

There was no curveball the fates could throw at them worse than being dropped in hell.

The worst had already passed, the wars and the fighting and the constant anxiety of not knowing whether you or your loved ones would make it through the night. There were no more monsters knocking on their doors, and although some part of Percy missed those days of adrenaline and togetherness, he would not exchange anything for the happiness he shared with Annabeth.

So they continued to live their separate-but-close lives. It was only an interlude, a short period of time apart, before they could be together. So they waited it out, and that year, despite all of the necessary pains of daily life, was beautiful. Because he was alive, and she was alive, and they were living.

A year passed quickly, and it was July again. Sharp joy punctured their hearts, in the most thrilling of ways. They found hobbies. Percy discovered what he wanted to do—professional swimming. Annabeth rediscovered what she wanted to do—landscape architecture, modern with some baroque and classical influences. Time seemed to fly back, caught and lost on a breeze. The days of quests and almost-dying seemed to fade away, wistful and painful memories of some other time long ago. Four years passed by after that, a mixture of focusing on school and meeting up together to exchange sweet kisses.

The summer swept on by, till it was August again, and Percy was going to turn twenty-two.


Everyone had been planning Percy's birthday, trying to make it as stunning and grand as possible. Annabeth had been in charge of the celebration, with a long to-do list, filled to the brim with all she had to do for Percy's birthday, and she read off of it obsessively. Percy only knew because, while he was pretending to be asleep a few weeks before, she would be calling their other friends about preparations.

Percy only half-smiled at that, into the pillow. His wife—and wow, what a word, at the new age of twenty-two—was beautiful.

When the day finally came, bright and early on August eighteenth, Percy felt happiness bubble inside of him, and he rubbed his eyes, looking over at the left side of bed. Annabeth was gone, and he smirked at that. He and his bright-and-early-at-7-AM wife never saw eye to eye on sleep schedules.

Percy got ready, and taking a happy breath in the mirror, he walked out.

He was greeted by blue confetti. A lot of it. And everyone was there too. His mom, Paul Blofis, the Seven and Nico, Chiron. The sight brought out a great wave of joy, and he broke out into a blinding grin.

They opened gifts, told stories, and indulged in cake.

And good gods above, the cake...

It was a diabetic, confectionary masterpiece. It was heaven, brought down to a physical form. The cake itself was homemade, blue as a Sally Jackson trademark creation, and shaped like a trident. Percy had heard the sound of chuckling, spotting his dad Poseidon in the corner, lazily resting on the wall with a life-sized, golden trident in his hand. He flickered away thereafter, but Percy smirked at that. Typical, mysterious, I'll-be-caught-dead-with-my-son Poseidon.

He ate, until his tongue was more blue than red. He ate, until his stomach was more cake than...whatever a stomach was even made of, hell if Percy knew. But he ate, ate, ate, until he was sick of it but still wanted more somehow.

Annabeth laughed at that, and gifts were exchanged. Annabeth's was last, as always; she and her super brainy mind of hers had probably come to the conclusion that the best gifts were always last. It'd been wrapped in glittering foil with the cursive lettering of Seaweed Brain on it. He'd opened it gently, his eyes filled with joy, hers with nervousness. When he peeled back the last layer of shiny wrappings paper, his eyes widened.

She'd bought a graduation ring for him, a turquoise blue stone on a thick, broad silver band, with engravings.

And he'd come over to her, connecting their pinkies again the same way he'd done at their wedding, and he'd kissed her. He heard happy cheers throughout the room, as his friends, family, and loved ones watched the couple embrace. To Percy, at that moment, none of the white noise mattered. It was just him and Annabeth in this moment, and the expanse of care and understanding between them.

He pulled away, feeling so happy it almost hurt. Their joy was transcendent. It was stunning.

Then his gaze, as if magnetized, was pulled over to their still-linked pinkies.

And his smile dropped.


Where there should be nothing, there was a string, coiled and wrapped tightly around his pinkie.

It was a thin, silver string, extending upward, through the ceiling.


A/N: Not every story has a prologue, but this one needs it.

The "red string of fate" is from Chinese and Japanese legends and mythos. It's not always a romantic string, more of a you-and-you-and-you are going to be linked somehow in a greater story, but it will be specifically romantic in this story because why not.

You may be sick of the Percabeth elements in this story. I get it. You ordered a burger, and the waiter brought you spinach. It feels wrong. But it will be okay. I promise you. Stay strong, and good things will come to you. Hang in there, my friend.

Hopefully, I can update this fic quickly because of it's short word count, but I've never been good at commitments. I will try my best.

Reviews = dopamine. Dopamine = more writing. More writing = faster updates. It's a win-win for everyone!