Seas Beyond Stars

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/56620900.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category:

F/M

Fandoms:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types

Relationships:

Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase & Jason Grace & Percy J. & Hazel Levesque & Piper McLean & Leo Valdez & Frank Zhang, Annabeth Chase & Grover Underwood

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - No Powers, Pirates, Solar Punk, Found Family, Annabeth Chase Needs a Hug (Percy Jackson), Annabeth Chase has Abandonment Issues (Percy Jackson), Athena kind of sucks, Percy Jackson is a Little Shit, Who is so in love with Annabeth Chase, BAMF Percy Jackson, (Eventual) BAMF Annabeth Chase, Light Dom/sub, Light BDSM, dom!percy, sub!Annabeth, Slow Burn, Annabeth is horny AF after 23 years of celibacy, Protective Percy Jackson, Possessive Percy Jackson, HBIC Annabeth Chase, Hurt/Comfort, Annabeth has a praise kink, Percy has an Annabeth kink, Morally gray annabeth chase, Morally gray percy jackson, Okay actually just straight up dark!percy a little bit, but also cinnamon roll Percy, Percy is happy to kill anyone who looks at annabeth wrong, Annabeth is learning she doesn't mind a little bit of murder under the right circumstances, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Forced Orgasm, there’s some exhibitionism, just a smidge, and so much dirty talk, soft Dom Percy Jackson, I’ve had to add an extra five (six?) chapters just for the smut., Subspace

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2024-06-13 Completed: 2024-08-01 Words: 132,167 Chapters: 35/35

Seas Beyond Stars

by FlowerishingNow

Summary

When Annabeth woke up in an unfamiliar room, aboard an unfamiliar ship, "borrowed" by a pirate and his crew to help them search for Doors of Death, the last thing she expected to find was family, friendship and... maybe even herself.

OR

Percy Jackson meets Treasure Planet and Atlantis.

Notes

Hi everyone!

So the first thing you need to know is that this story is an AU. We've got a world without Gods (anymore...maybe), and a world with slightly different Greek myths (because I took creative liberties).

It was originally going to just be a happy-go-lucky little adventure, but then it just kind of morphed into this. Maybe because I've been thinking so much about the ways the world makes women, particularly young women, feel like they have to make themselves both more palatable and completely kick-ass at all times. And what if sometimes we just want to be angry, unpleasant, unsure, horny messes? Thank you very much.

This Annabeth is a polymath, but she isn't the BAMF we know and love right away -- she was raised in a world without friends and without Camp Halfblood. But just wait and see, she'll find her sea legs.

Best,

Flowerishing

PS -- When you see me write "the Athena" instead of "Athena," it's not a typo. I did that on purpose. Because worldbuilding.

Prologue

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver,  “Wild Geese”

“Can you tell me the story, Papa?”

“Again, Little Owl?”

“Yes!!”

“Very well. Once, long ago, when the world was new, and the pantheon not yet fractured — back before our ancestors usurped the gods, back when they still lived among us and answered our prayers, there was a hero.”

“Odysseus!”

“Yes, my love. Odysseus. And unlike other heroes that came before him, Odysseus did not thirst for gold and glory, but for knowledge.”

“Like me!”

“Just like you, Little Owl. Odysseus had been around the world time and time again, and by the time he was an old man, he had learned everything there was to learn in the land of the living. When his beloved wife, the clever Penelope suddenly died, Odysseus decided it was time for him to travel to the only place he had never once been. But to get there, he had to sail through the Sea of Monsters.”

“Past the Sirens! And Charybdis and Scylla!”

“Yes, and around the island of Circe, until he reached the end of the earth and the Doors of Death, guarded by Hephaestus’s sea serpent. It was a terrible journey, and most of the men on the ship died."

“But Odysseus made it!”

“He did make it. And when he did, Hades, god of the underworld, granted him one favor in return for a piece of great knowledge that even he did not know.”

“Except it was a trick! Because Hades knows everything important already.”

“There is very little the Lord of the Dead didn’t know. All the most important secrets of the world and of the dead were his. And Odysseus knew this, so he spent many hours thinking and thinking and thinking of what vital thing he could tell to Lord Hades. And you know what he decided was most important?”

“Penelope!”

“That’s right, my darling. He shared with the king of the underworld the most important secret he knew: the secret to making his wife laugh. And Hades, who loved his own Persephone as much as Odysseus did Penelope, was so impressed that he granted Odysseus his favor.”

“And he asked for Penelope to come home and Hades said yes and they lived happily in Ithaca for a hundred more years!”

“Why don’t you just tell the story next time?”

“You’re the best at it though, Papa. And I’ve gotta know it by heart because one day I’m gonna be just like Odysseus and go all over the whole wide world! Then I’m gonna go to the doors of death and I’m gonna ask for you and me and mama to live happy together forever and ever.”

“Alright, Little Owl. But you’re only 5, so you’ll have to wait a little while before you do that.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, Papa."

…

“Papa?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You’ll never leave me, right?”

“Never. Never, never, so long as I breathe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Papa.”

“Goodnight, Little Owl.”

Chapter 1

18 years later.

When Annabeth woke up that morning, she had a sudden and unfortunate realization:

This wasn’t her room.

Her room was made of white marble. Her room had bookshelves crammed with thick, leather-bound tomes that smelled like old stories and new secrets. It was draped in years worth of silvery silk tapestries, many of which Annabeth was particularly proud of, and which had taken no small amount of time and effort to weave. The centerpiece of her room was her desk, which was double the size of her bed and half hidden under a blanket of unpublished papers, mostly blank journals, and overly detailed maps.

Her room did not rock. It did not sway, or tilt, or move in any way .

Her room also did not have a three-legged stool in the corner of it.

And, even if it did have a three-legged stool, that stool would never have had a strange man sitting on top of it.

Especially not a man as roguish, or dark-haired, or bright-eyed, or rugged – not rugged.

… As disreputable as this one looked.

The first things she noticed were his shark-like smile and the tattoos that took up large patches of his forearms, ran across his hands and fingers, and climbed up the side of his chest to the base of his neck.

Most were nautical in nature— patterns of waves, sea creatures, a trident. Whatever vine was etched on his chest and collarbone, Annabeth wasn’t sure. It was unexpectedly pretty, however, dainty, even.

The letters across his knuckles spelled out the words Blue Lady— most likely the nickname of some long-forgotten lover that he’d had put there in a drunken haze.

His fingers were long and his nails were blunt. There were three rings on his fingers- two on his left hand, one on his right.

He wore a loose-fitting green shirt that he’d left half unbuttoned, with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was tucked into tight-fitting brown pants, which in turn were tucked into brown leather boots.

His chin was unshaven, but not unkempt. The shade of his stubble was a little lighter than the raven hair that brushed the edges of his jaw, as if it was warmed by the sun in a way his hair was not. Half of which was pulled into a knot at the top of his head.

His bright gaze fixed on her out from under heavy-lidded eyes, and Annabeth wondered briefly if some dryad or sea nymph had blessed him with those irises that glittered like gemstones. It didn’t help matters that he had the kind of eyelashes that the Children of Aphrodite, in their pleasure houses and beauty centers, might kill for.

There was a sword in a sheath at his left hip, and a golden dagger at his right.

And worst of all he seemed entirely at ease, which led her to believe that he was the reason she was no longer in her own room.

Annabeth put the pieces together in her head— a bit too slowly for her liking. (Had she been drugged? Her mind was going at a snail's pace. Her fingers tingled—- a sure sign that she’d been slipped a bit of Valerian.)

Annabeth considered all of the evidence: a moving room; the smell of the ocean; this man.

She was on a ship, and her host was most likely a— well, did she have to even say it?

When all the prices finally fell into place, Annabeth scrambled out of the bed, moving into a defensive position as quickly as she could. (Which was not nearly as quick as she would have liked.)

She would need a weapon. What would make a good weapon?

The room was beautiful, luxurious, even. But unfortunately, it seemed to have very little in the way of potential weapons. Except maybe the sword at the pirate’s hip?

If she got him talking, she might be able to distract him long enough to make a grab for it. Maybe even kill him before he killed her.

Possibly.

“Why am I here?” She tried to make her voice sound as cool and intimidating as possible. If he knew she was scared of him, then he would have the upper hand.

“That’s your first question? Not ‘who or you?’ Or ‘where am I?’”

He was just as calm and collected as she was pretending to be. Much to her annoyance, there was no threat in his tone, just mild surprise, maybe a little mirth.

His voice was low and hoarse, like waves crashing against rocks, probably made rougher from years of shouting commands over raging ocean winds.

“I know I’m on a boat, and I’m assuming you’re a sailor of some kind. Most likely a pirate. What I need to know is why I’m here.”

She did the best impression she could of Sister Astra, who could make most of the younger priestesses cry with a single look.

Now there was clear amusement in his eyes— the kind of amusement that Annabeth could only really describe as wicked. Was it because of her? Or was he excited about his plans? No doubt he had some terrible fate in store for her.

Too bad for him and his laughing eyes, because Annabeth would not go along without a fight.

“Ah, I see. Well, you’re here because I bribed your guard to drug your food last night. Then I snuck in through the window and stole you from your bed, right out from under your queen’s nose.”

Her guard? Luke had let her be taken by this man? Had helped him?

It felt like a kick to the stomach. Worse, maybe, because the last time she’d been kicked in the stomach, she’d at least been able to try and fight back.

There was no vengeance she could enact now. She and Luke had never been close, but they were … not unfriendly with one another. He had always felt a little bit like a distant cousin, maybe? Someone who was obligated to show her just a little bit of kindness, and now he had betrayed her, too.

How she could feel betrayed by someone she’d been careful to keep at arm’s length, she didn’t know. But the pain of it was sharp and jagged, and it made her want to be just as sharp and jagged with her anger.

But that wouldn’t have been smart. Anger, she had learned long ago, was rarely ever smart— even if it felt good in the moment. Even if it promised to ease the sting of hurt like warm water on a paper cut. Because the truth was, anger usually only made things worse for you in the long run.

“I didn’t ask how you kidnapped me, I asked why. You must have seaweed for brains.”

The man looked entirely unbothered by her insult. His gaze was soft and teasing, and his smile crooked when he tsked and said, “You’re probably right about that. The sea and sky know I’ve been out here long enough for it to be true. But you see, that’s why I need your help.”

“You— what?”

“You’re Annabeth of Athens? Scholar priestess for the Athena?”

“I… am.”

“Best of all her advisors?”

“Hardly.”  She had been reminded of that quite often, in fact, by both her tutors and her temple sisters.

“And modest, too! See? I knew I needed you in my crew.”

“In… your crew? You haven’t kidnapped me to sell my virtue to the highest bidder?”

“Ah, well… no,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like a sheepish schoolboy. Annabeth’s eyes were drawn momentarily to the crook of his elbow, where a long, jagged scar crisscrossed along his skin.

He looked at her with doleful, apologetic eyes. It was such a swift and sudden change that Annabeth felt a little dizzy from it.

She’d seen this before, though. The way manipulators could slip from one demeanor to the next, putting on a show of whatever emotions would best fit the situation. Annabeth wouldn’t fall for that act.

“I can understand why that might be a concern of yours. Sorry about that. But you see, I’m really more interested in the expertise you do have, not the expertise you don't."

“Is that so?”

“You sound unconvinced.”

“I am .”

She crossed her arms, lifted her chin, and bared her teeth. Let him see, then. If this was the game he wanted to play. Let him see just how fierce she could be. She would not be cowed or swayed or puppeted into a plaything for him or anyone else.

He looked entirely unimpressed, and perhaps even a little bit irritated by her little performance.

“Should I ravish you?” he asked, exasperation heavy in his voice. “Then your virtue would be no use to anyone.”

Taken completely by surprise, Annabeth’s control over her emotions slipped, just briefly.

“You— you evil, you vile —I never!”

Then she took a tight hold of herself once again.

Calm.

Cool.

Controlled.

Clever.

“Let this be a lesson, Annabeth,” the memory of Tutor Helena’s cruel voice sent ice through her veins. “ This is what happens when you lose your temper, stupid child. How can you ever expect to succeed here when you let your mind be so easily ruled by your heart?”

“ Yeah, I know that already. That’s why we have the whole, you know, virtue issue.” The pirate was unbothered by her outburst— still exasperated, still teasing.

“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll kill you,” she growled. It was a cold promise. Even as fury bubbled beneath her skin, she kept herself carefully contained.

He lifted his hands, palms out, as if to indicate he posed no threat to her.

“I mean, that’s fair. But are you sure? I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it— ravishing, that is. And what I lack in technique I make up for with enthusiasm.”

He said it like he was suggesting she try out some new food to eat, or maybe a book to read. As if offering to ravish someone was an entirely normal, even casual thing.

For maybe the first time in her entire life, Annabeth had no idea what to say. She was sure she looked like a fish with the way her mouth kept opening and closing, opening and closing. Was he trying to be obtuse or clever? Both at once? She couldn’t tell. So she did the only thing she could think of to do and lunged for the sword at the pirate’s hip. Calm control be damned.

“Hah! Quick thinking,” he laughed as he leapt up from the stool and twisted out of her grasp. “But you’re not fast enough yet.”

Annabeth spun again, this time she didn’t even bother to go for the sword, setting her target lower and to the left.

“Oh! A vicious one, aren’t you?” He grinned, dancing out of arm’s reach again. He sounded pleased. Maybe even proud? As if he’d been hoping for this reaction. “See, I knew we would get along well. I was starting to worry; you need a little bit of fire to survive out on the ocean, you know. But I think you’ll be just fine on my ship, Priestess.”

Annabeth grabbed hold of the wooden stool by one of its legs and brandished it in her right hand.

The man looked skeptically at her new weapon. He seemed as if he was disappointed in her — in her. Honestly, it’s not like she had many other choices here. Then he pulled the long, beautifully ornamented, vaguely familiar dagger from his belt and tossed it at her feet.

“Here – try that one and see what you think.”

She bent to snatch it up, not taking her eyes off the man or her hand off the stool. It was obvious to her that he was attempting to lull her into a false sense of security.

“There you are now, how’s that feel? Good size? How’s the balance?”

Annabeth’s eyes flicked down to the knife in her hand, and she almost recoiled when she realized why it had looked familiar.

“You stole this from my guard!”

Her kidnapper shrugged.

“Yeah, well, he was a pretty shitty guard. I didn’t think he deserved to keep such a nice weapon for himself after betraying you like that.”

The logic of that argument escaped her. Obviously, this man was a psychopath.

“Did you kill him?”

“ What ? No!” His faux offense was utterly unconvincing. “I didn’t … kill him. I, uh, roughed him up a bit.”

Annabeth didn’t respond, just leveled the dagger and raised the stool even higher.

“Right. Well, it looks like a good enough fit to me, so how about you keep it, huh?”

Annabeth remained silent. She refused to acknowledge the tiny ember of gratitude that warmed her traitorous stomach. This man was a slippery and conniving little snake, and he would lure her into his jaws just to chew her up and spit her out if she wasn’t careful.

“Door locks from the inside,” the pirate said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “There’s some of your clothes in that closet over there. And a few of your books are on the desk. I’ll be above deck, should you need anything. There’ll be breakfast up top in about three or so hours. Come up if you want any.”

With that, he turned to leave.

“Oh! And I’m Percy, by the way. Captain of the Argo II, and host for the duration of your journey,” he tossed over his shoulder before giving her a jaunty little wave and closing the door behind him.

Annabeth held out for as long as she could. Ultimately, it wasn’t her hunger that won over, but her curiosity.

She had locked the door immediately after her captor had left, surprised to find he hadn’t lied, and planted herself in the farthest corner of the room. To pass the time, she devised several possible escape plans. Most of them involved getting her hands on a combination of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal. It shouldn't be too difficult; Annabeth had a pretty good feeling that, where there were pirates, there was sure to be gunpowder.

She was running through scenario F (which involved several yards of rope, a generous helping of butter, and, of course, some gunpowder) when the first question popped into her head.

She had been tracking the movement of the sun through the tiny, high window in her prison all through the morning. And, as best she could guess, they were traveling southwest.

Southwest!

When everyone knew the only flesh-peddlers brazen (or stupid) enough to buy one of the Athena’s maiden scholars were in the North.

So then where were they going?

After that, the slow drip drip drip of more and more questions started to eat through her willpower. She gritted her teeth against it, but it was like trying to plug a cracking dam with her fingers.

The bed was covered in bright blue Arachnian silk, which was embroidered with intricate scenes of the ocean. But there was almost no more Arachnian silk left in the world— it had all but disappeared hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. So how had he gotten his hands on so much of it?

Then there was the Golden-Fleeced rug, so soft beneath her feet that it felt sacrilegious to stand on it at all. Someone had made it past the Colchian Dragon to retrieve it, and Annabeth was desperate to know both who and how, since the dragon hadn't been bested since well before the War of Usurpation.

On a solid wooden desk were multicolored figurines made from brass filigree and glass — so beautiful and delicate they could have only been fashioned by her temple sisters. These were the kinds of figurines they sold in exchange for rare and precious knowledge — the kind of knowledge most people had very little of. Also, the kind of knowledge that most people would rather take to their graves than barter away. So how had her captor managed to get six of them?

Then there were the paintings. Paintings that she recognized from the illustrations she had seen of them in temple books.

These were forgeries, right?

Right?

Because the originals were all kept in the Sky King’s palace. And stealing them would be beyond idiotic— it would be madness.

But the worst thing was the pile of books written in a language she didn’t know— didn’t even vaguely recognize. How was that even possible ?

So, even as she yelled at herself, Annabeth unlocked the door and made her way towards the deck.

When she stepped out into the open, the sea air took her breath away – harsh and wild and clean in a way she’d never experienced in her cloistered temple home. It reminded her of the stories her father used to read to her.

It smells like adventure.

The thought rose up in her mind, unbidden, before she could stop it.

Annabeth quickly pushed it away: No, it smells like a lack of escape routes, you nitwit.

And the view…

How many times had she lost herself in the anthologies of seafaring stories? How often had she stared at that faraway patch of blue she could only just barely see through the library tower window?

Of course, she’d never felt seasick while reading those stories. All this constant rocking was going to take some getting used to.

But the view might be worth your nausea .

Idiot. She was an idiot.

She would not be getting used to anything, because she would find a way off of this ship.

She was startled from her thoughts by a low, familiar voice from just behind her right shoulder.

“‘Knowledge of the land is lazily gained, and so to know the land is nothing. But to know the sea is to understand oneself, the world, the very universe.’”

She spun to face the same man from earlier this morning, pulling Luke’s knife as she did so. But he caught her wrist in a firm grip before she could sheath it in his stomach.

A sense of instinctual fear rose in her gut – he was dangerously close. She moved without thinking, drawing back her free fist and landing a punch squarely on his cheek. It hit with a satisfying crack, causing him to release her wrist and stumble back a few steps. Surprise was written across his features as he lifted his hand to cautiously rub it against the spot she’d struck.

Someone behind her let out a long, loud, appreciative whistle.

The panic pounding through her veins grew worse. Her back was too exposed- any member of his crew could come up behind her at any moment.  She had been so stupid, so stupid, idiotic, stupid to come up here. The fear was quickly becoming a creature that she couldn’t control as her gaze darted around, desperate to suss out every possible source of danger without actually taking her eyes off the man in front of her.

Her captor watched her growing panic with a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and took several steps back, lifting his hands in the same gesture he had used before.  “You throw a pretty solid punch, Priestess.”

His feigned guilt and useless admission didn’t reduce the danger she felt in her current situation. She couldn’t punch her way off of this ship, and not just because she had most likely already done some damage to her own knuckles.

“Although, you haven’t got the upper body strength to really rely on that as a defense. Not yet at least.”

The man was still talking to her. Gods, did he ever stop talking?

“If I taught you how to actually use that thing,” he said, pointing with his chin at her uplifted dagger,  “would you feel safer?”

Her mind and her mouth must not have been connected at that particular moment, because she didn’t curse him or spit at him, and instead she only asked: “You’ve read Asterius the Elder’s Ten Treaties on Seafaring?”

The man let out a sardonic snort that boiled Annabeth’s blood. Of all the slights she’d had to deal with so far this morning, being laughed at by this man ( again) might be the worst.

“What, you think only the Scholar Priestesses of the Athena like to read?” He sounded amused rather than offended by the possibility, and it made her hackles rise all the more.

No, she wanted to say. But stupid men who make stupid decisions to kidnap one of the Athena’s scholars most likely didn’t.

Cool. She took a breath.

Controlled. Another breath.

Clever. A third breath.

The clearest minds are those that are unclouded by feelings.

He shot her a wry smile, like he knew exactly what she wanted to say to him, then shrugged.

“I actually haven’t read any Asterius the Elder. I’ve read plenty Annabeth of Athens, though.”

Annabeth’s mind came to a sudden halt. All attempts to center herself abandoned.

He had read her work?

Her work?

Nobody read her work. It was well hidden in the library catacombs— ie, where books went to die.

The Athena had barely even read it.

During the presentation of her cohort’s theses, her queen had merely glanced over it. Then, in front of half the Hellas Empire and the entire Scholar City, had said that while she “appreciated” Annabeth’s “imaginative spirit,” her work wasn’t “scholarly enough to merit true consideration.”

Annabeth hadn’t seen the cursed thing since.  Which begged the question: how had he gotten his hands on it?

“Anyways! Since you’re up here, how about some food? And maybe introductions? You can meet my crew if you’d like.”

He gestured to the group of people sitting on the starboard side of the deck.

Several things suddenly occurred to Annabeth at once:

This man was attempting to be friendly . Maybe trying to position himself as her ally.

He would most likely also try to position his crew members as allies.

This behavior would probably continue until they reached their intended destination, if only to make it easier for them to manipulate her upon arrival.

And she could use all of that to her advantage.

With some reluctance, she tucked the knife into her belt and gave him a sharp nod.

“Fine,” she replied, careful to keep an undercurrent of reluctance in her voice; he was too clever to trust an abrupt change of heart. “What’s for breakfast?”

Breakfast, it turned out, was as delicious as it was mysterious. Could Annabeth label what she was putting in her mouth? No. Would she eat it again? In a heartbeat.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the heaping plate of food had been placed in front of her, and some kind of animal instinct took over.

She barely even breathed until she was halfway through her portion, and when she finally paused to take a sip of water, she realized was being watched.

Most of the faces in the small crowd looked amused. One looked mildly horrified. Another looked utterly overjoyed.

“Skies, Percy,” said the horrified woman, “have you been starving her? I thought we agreed not to torture this one.”

Annabeth stiffened. The phrase ‘ this one’ didn’t escape her notice. There had been other prisoners before her, then.

“She's only been here a few hours, Piper. How could I possibly have been starving her?”

“She just appreciates good cooking! Unlike some people.” The man who looked impossibly pleased with himself cut in. His voice vaguely (not unpleasantly) reminded Annabeth of a young goat—the kind she used to play with before she had been offered in service to the Athena.

This particular trait could be attributed to the large, spiral horns on his head and the dainty, tapered hoofs where a human might have feet.

A Satyr!

She’d never seen a Satyr before— the ones that were left tended to avoid the Scholar City.

“Priestess,” said her captor, with a note of pride in his voice, “meet my crew. That’s Grover, our animal wrangler, gardener, and head chef.”

This ship had a garden on it? Annabeth tried to puzzle out how that might work, and was frustratingly unsuccessful. Another question to add to her growing list.

Grover smiled and said, “Actually I prefer the term animal meditation specialist.”

She would try to remember that.

“Right, sorry, bud. He’s our animal mediation specialist. Piper, the lady who is so concerned for your nutritional well-being, is our diplomat.”

“You mean she could coax a fish out of water,” called an affectionate voice from just above their heads. Its owner was a serious-looking blond man who stood right behind the wheel of the ship.

“I mean she can talk us all off the gallows, and has done a time or two,” Percy replied, laughing.

Annabeth would try to avoid that girl — a master manipulator was more dangerous than any master swordfighter.

“That man up there is Jason, our navigator,” Percy continued. “He knows the skies better than a mother knows her own babe. You’ll never get lost so long as he’s around.”

Then he gestured to a sweet-looking blond boy. “Will’s our surgeon. He’s been excited to swap notes with you.”

“You studied under the 16th Hippocrates, right?” The surgeon asked – almost bouncing with excitement as he did.

Annabeth nodded, taking careful note of his enthusiasm. She would get the surgeon on her side first, then. He seemed like he would be easier to manipulate than the others, and he would have access to medical ingredients that could just as easily become poisons in the right doses.

Maybe if she also befriended the cook…

“Leo is our mechanist and weapon specialist — plus cooper, carpenter, and boatson all in one.”

“Truly, I am a man of many talents. You’re lucky to meet me.”

She couldn’t decide if the man the captain was pointing at looked entirely too unhinged or just unhinged enough to be the weapons specialist. He had black smudges all along his hands, arms, and face, a toolbelt secured snugly around his waist, and an impish gleam in his eye.

Unhinged or not, he would have the gunpowder. She would need to earn his trust in order to get access to it; it would be best to approach him slowly, though.

“Nico,” he gestured towards a man she hadn’t noticed before, “is our shadow.”

Her kidnapper offered no other explanation, but Annabeth still understood he meant. Somehow, even though Nico was practically dripping with silver jewelry — rings and chains and piercings of all sizes and shapes  — he seemed to blend into the background.

His watchful eyes were narrowed at Annabeth, and she had the sense that he understood exactly what she was planning. She flicked her gaze away from him — another one to avoid.

“Over there’s Hazel. She’s got a nose for gold like no one else you know. Can sniff out a fake from ten paces away.”

She wondered if Hazel could sense poison, as well as gold.

“And Frank’s our harpoonist.”

Frank was just about the biggest man Annabeth had ever laid eyes on. An alarm went off in the back of her mind at the sight of him; of course, it didn’t help that she associated harpoons with gore and violence.

The look Frank gave her was kind, though, and his expression was oddly shy for such a large man.

She turned towards her captor.

“You hunt whales?” She spat.

Change of plans, then. She would have to destroy the ship in its entirety, rather than just finding a way to escape.

“No,” her captor drawled. His smile was warm and there was a gleam in his eye; she got the sense that she was missing some kind of shared joke.

“Then why—”

“You’ll see.”

Well. That wasn’t ominous at all, was it?

“Everyone, this is Annabeth. Our new mythologist and historian.”

Mythologist and historian. His presumption set her teeth on edge.

“I am not anything of the sort. What I am is your captive, and I demand to know why you have taken me hostage –”

“I haven't taken you hostage, just borrowed you.”

He sounded as if he was trying to explain a very simple concept to a very impatient child.

“You took me from my room without my consent. That is the very definition of a kidnapping!” She snapped.

The crew’s eyes bounced back and forth between Annabeth and their captain with each exchange.

“Okay, so I kidnapped you. The word hostage, though, implies that I want some kind of ransom for your safe return, or that I’m using you for some kind of leverage.”

“And neither of those things is true?”

“No. We need your help - just for a little while, and then if you want, we will drop you off back in the Scholar City when we return. Or somewhere else along the way, if you’d prefer.”

Annabeth let out a noise of furious disbelief, but the madman continued with his excuses, undeterred.

“We figured that stone pillar of a queen you serve wouldn’t let you leave of your own volition. So here we are.”

He spread his hands wide and shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate that her imprisonment on his ship was a mere fortuitous coincidence – some simple twist of fate.

She considered how good it might feel to kill him. Not just with poison, but with a knife.  She could do it slowly, relishing in the feeling of his blood on her hands.  It was a possibility, but she would need to turn his crew against him, first. Or kill them all. Whichever was easier.

Annabeth looked over at the golden-haired surgeon and gave him a small smile that she hoped conveyed ‘academic excitement’ and not ‘you look like easy pickings.’

“Well,” she said to him, “shall we, then?”

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Big huge thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, commented, etc.! It's so lovely to know someone other than me enjoys this.

The two passionate devotees of all things medical spent the rest of the morning together in Will’s quarters. There wasn't much in it besides a large cabinet, a desk covered in papers and books, and a table stained with old blood, and a hammock.

“Right, the first thing I need your opinion on is my newest attempt at an antiseptic paste.”

She had to hand it to the man, he didn’t waste any time.

They poured over his copies of Medika Corpus and Flora of the Healing Arts, both horrendously outdated, and she helped to fill the gaps in his knowledge.

It only took a little while for her to realize, however, that this man— even with his lack of resources, had a mind for medicine like few she’d ever met before. He certainly knew more than she did.

His solutions were creative, innovative, and inspiring, and she found herself learning more from him than he did from her.

And he had the temperament of a good healer, too. Warm and inviting, easy to talk with, and nonjudgmental. Talking to him was like curling into a plush armchair and cracking open a well-loved book.

It was a rare thing to find someone who was so skilled in both the technical and emotional requirements of the healing profession.

It would be a waste of perfectly good talent to kill him , Annabeth thought. Maybe, if she could convince him to help her, she wouldn’t have to.

“I had never thought to use an abalone shell like that,” she marveled as they tested the third batch of the antiseptic on his hand. “Especially not with a poultice of knotgrass and goldenrod.”

“Right?” he exclaimed, just as excited as she was. “It’s amazing to see. And it’s definitely saved lives and limbs a time or two.”

They exchanged giddy smiles, and Annabeth, so drawn in by his bubbly charm and easy warmth, had to scold herself for her momentary lapse in judgment.

Affection was just as dangerous an emotion as anger. More dangerous, perhaps, because of how insidious it could be.

She wasn’t here to become his friend.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you… I mean, you’re so brilliant, you could work anywhere. Study anywhere! Why…”

“Why do I spend my days with a bunch of horrible pirates?”

“Well, yes.”

“Firstly, because they’re really not. Horrible, I mean. We are pirates. Got the colors to prove it. Second, I’m self-taught, Annabeth. No schooling to speak of, no degree, no real training.”

“Why didn’t your parents—”

“If I had been a girl, they would have sent me to serve the Athena. But I wasn’t. And at first, they refused to send me to school because they needed me to help on the farm. Then, because it was too expensive. Then because I was too much of an embarrassment to them.”

He was opening up to her. This was good. This was useful.

Had she ever had a conversation like this with anyone else? One where they told her about their lives, honestly, and without artifice? She couldn’t remember.

It made her feel slightly ashamed of her ulterior motives.

“That makes no sense.” And truly, it didn’t. Any parent should count themselves lucky to have a genius for a son. “How could you possibly have embarrassed them?”

He looked up at her from where he sat bent over his notes and gave her a melancholy smile.

“I’ve always just been too different for them.”

That struck a chord deep within her, and Annabeth had to push down the feelings that swelled in her chest.

Empathy is weakness, she reminded herself. You’re a hostage, not a friend.

“I’ve never been the kind of boy they wanted. They had a son who dreamt all the wrong dreams and loved all the wrong people.”

“You had a love they didn’t approve of, then? What was so wrong about her?”  This is what people who were friendly with one another talked about, right? They compared heartaches? Maybe she could invent some kind of fictional unrequited love to make him sympathize with her.

Will didn’t respond immediately. He was quiet for several long, painful moments before he finally replied.

“He just wasn’t who they wanted me to be with.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You are  — I mean, you’re – You…”

He stiffened at the surprise in her tone, and she rushed to amend her response – to soothe the sting of her initial reaction.

“Not that I have a problem with that! History's greatest and most creative minds have almost all been homoerotics. They tend to be the best at thinking outside the box, you know. Not like the rest of us. And then you’ve got Achilles and Patroclus, one of the greatest love stories of all time, except for the part where they died.”

That earned her a real, true, golden smile. She refused to acknowledge the warmth that suffused her heart at the sight of it.

“I suppose in a walled city comprised of almost all women, we wouldn’t be that uncommon.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Annabeth tried to sound unaffected and to hide her blush by burying her face behind a curtain of hair. Will saw through her act, however, and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You never? How do you function for twenty-odd years without release?”

“I find my own release well enough, thank you.”

He grinned, and Annabeth knew her prim, indignant discomfort was practically radiating off of her in waves.

“I suppose you scholar priestesses would be practical about it. What about your temple guards?”

Annabeth groaned and scrubbed at her eyes.

He chucked and reached out a hand to ruffle her hair; it reminded her so much of something her father used to do that she was struck by a sudden, unwelcome, wave of homesickness.

She slapped his hand away.

“It has nothing to do with that, it’s just,” she took a deep breath.

Was she going to be honest with him? She supposed maybe she owed it – honesty for honesty. It was only fair.

“We’re not allowed. Romantic relationships are forbidden for priestesses of the Athena.”

“Oh? I always thought that was just a myth.”

Annabeth shook her head.

“We’re taught from a young age that things like love and sexual attraction in all forms — Eros, Philia, Agape, Ludus, what have you -– are ‘unnecessary, unhelpful, and unproductive.’ That’s why we have so much time to commit to our studies.”

She couldn’t keep the melancholy from leaking into her voice, and she cursed herself for it. The conversation had gone awry, and she needed to get it back on track. This wasn’t about baring her soul, it was about convincing him to help her escape or to turn on his captain — or both.

“If you wanted, I could get you into a workshop with the 16th Hippocrates. I was one of his favorite students —”

Much to her temple sisters’ dismay.

“ —and I’m sure after he’s met you, especially if I explained your situation, he would be more than happy to take you on as an apprentice.”

Will's smile flickered, and his features hardened under a skeptical expression.

“Would I have to leave the Argo crew behind?”

“I… well, yes, you would.”

“Then no. Thank you, but no. I’d rather have my friends.”

She would have to rethink her approach, then. Maybe he just needed to know what he was missing out on – he hadn’t yet grasped what she could offer in exchange for her freedom.

“Have you ever wanted to see someone undergo brain surgery? It’s fascinating. They’re awake through the whole process.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Or what about an electromagnetic radiation imaging machine? We’ve got one of the only ones – actually, I think the only one, in the entire Empire. I could take you to it, if you were interested.”

But now he was staring at her with a knowing look on his face, and Annabeth shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it.

“Or a first edition of –”

“Annabeth, whatever you’re going to try to bribe me with next, it won’t work. This quest matters more to me than all of that combined. I know you’re angry about the situation, and I’m sorry, but I’m not about to betray my captain or my crew to see a few shiny toys.”

That stung a bit more than she wanted to admit. She had felt a tug of something between them – familiarity, maybe? Or kinship? But she supposed that didn’t matter after all. And if she was being honest with herself, she really didn't want to kill him, regardless of whether or not he helped her, which made things so much more complicated.

“Even though you’re all in the wrong here? What about first, do no harm? You’ve done me harm – great harm.”

Will averted his eyes.

“Sometimes,” he whispered in the direction of his hands, “even we healers can be selfish. We weighed the harm we might do to you against the continued suffering of those we love and chose accordingly.”

Fine.

If she couldn’t change his mind, then she could at least use him to gather information.

“Why does your captain have Arachnian silk?” She asked.

“You’ll have to ask Percy for those stories; they’re not mine to tell, and he gets into a snit if someone steals his stories from him.”

Annabeth fought back an irritated humph, (she did not win the fight) and her companion laughed warmly at her frustration.

“I’m surprised you're all so familiar with him.”

He shrugged, then bent to pull another book out from under his desk.

“He’s not just my captain. He saved my life— gave me a place to belong.”

“Was it that bad then, back home?”

She cursed herself for asking it when Will flinched.

“Not as bad as it could have been. Others in the crew have had it worse.”

Annabeth longed to know more, but the sudden discomfort in Will’s tone made it clear that asking too much too quickly wouldn’t help her cause.

She cleared her throat and pointed to the battered old book Will placed between them.

“Tell me about this, then.”

Later, when he wasn’t looking, she slipped a vial of Golden Willow Bark into her pocket. On its own, its presence or absence wouldn’t raise any alarms.

But it could still do quite a bit of damage.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the office door and the unhinged weapons specialist poked his head in.

“Captain says he needs Annabeth. Wants me to tell you that you’ve monopolized her for long enough,” he quipped.

Will, who had just been explaining to her his new theory on the anesthetic properties of cephalopod skin, visibly deflated.

“Fine,” he relented, and Annabeth shot him a panicked look.  She felt safe here. Will was a kindred spirit – he was like a little piece of the Scholar City out here in all this unknown, and she wasn’t ready to leave his side. He seemed to understand her reluctance because he reached out and squeezed her fingers for a brief second.

“I’ll stick by you. Besides, except for the occasional kidnapping, Percy’s really a good guy.”

Occasional kidnapping.

Occasional. Kidnapping?

“That isn’t helpful in the least, William.”

He grinned and tousled her hair again. And, just like before, an old ache coursed through her at the familiarity of the gesture.  She quickly dodged his hand and stood up — too fast. Blood rushed to her head and her legs took the time to remind her that she had been sitting for far too long.

“You look a little green.” Will sounded amused, rather than concerned. He dug around in his desk for a moment and then handed her a small green tablet.  “Here, chew on this. It’ll soothe the seasickness.”

She did as he said, a little surprised to find that she didn’t feel at all concerned about swallowing his mysterious pill. It tasted of mint and honey — honey, she wondered where they found honey — and Annabeth felt almost immediately better.

“Let’s go then,” she said, squaring her shoulders with a pretense of bravery she did not have.

And Will, true to his word, did not leave her side as they moved back above deck.

The sun was strong and hot, though it was past its zenith, and she blinked in discomfort as her eyes adjusted to it. There was so much light out here— and she was so used to the soft electric lights of the library and the cool shade of the courtyards that the unfiltered sunshine stung.

Her kidnapper was standing next to the navigator at the wheel of the ship, and Will led her to them.

“We were having a fabulous time down there, Percy, so you’d better have a good reason for interrupting,” Will announced with a note of mock indignation.

Her kidnapper smiled at them both— it was a crooked thing, and quick. And why did he always have to look like you had just told him the most wonderfully dirty joke he had ever heard?

It agitated her.

“We need the wise girl, Will. Can’t seem to figure this out on our own," he said, as easy and light as a summer breeze. Then he raised an eyebrow at Will and motioned behind them with his chin.  “Besides, Nico’s been in a foul mood since you two missed lunch. Go be a darling and soothe his temper a bit, would you?”

Will blushed a deep red ( interesting) , and mumbled something about “meddling captains,” but nevertheless abandoned her in favor of the shadowy man sulking on the prow.

She supposed it was important to know where she stood in the order of things.

“So, Annabeth of Athens,” her captor began, and Annabeth braced herself for any number of terrible things he might demand.

“What can you tell me about the Doors of Death?”

Well.

That was not what she had expected to hear.

It was, perhaps, worse.

“I can tell you that there’s no such thing,” Annabeth snapped, both her defenses and her temper rising. She walled her mind against the feelings that question stirred up in her, brick by brick until she could breathe again.

“But there is,” her kidnapper murmured, after an uncomfortable moment of close examination.

Then he did something even worse than asking that damned question: he held up her book.

“I have it on very good authority, you see,” he said softly, his eyes never straying from her face.

Annabeth could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“The person who wrote that was a naive child,” she spat. “A child with childlike dreams and a childlike imagination. Not a scholar.”

Her captor cocked her head, and Annabeth felt almost naked under the heat of his gaze.

“I disagree,” he said.

“You’ve kidnapped me for nothing, then. Because if you’re going after the Doors of Death, you will find nothing.”

“You might be right,” he conceded. “But if the girl who wrote this book was standing before me, what would she say?”

Annabeth hated herself for the response that she couldn’t hold back.

“If she were here, she would say you need to find Odysseus’s lost journal first. And since it doesn’t actually exist, you’re out of luck.”

A slow smile spread across his face; this was no wry smirk, no dirty, crooked gleam. No, this was a smile made from unbridled joy, the smile of a boy who has just been told his parents are proud of him, and it shone so brightly and so brilliantly that it struck Annabeth to her very core.

“You mean,” he said, pulling something from a satchel at his side, “this lost journal?”

The cover was simple— just patchy leather, no filigree or frills. It was held together by a knotted leather string. It looked almost exactly like all the others that the Athena had in her collection, except maybe a little bit worse for wear. The binding clearly hadn’t ever been properly restored.

Annabeth felt her legs give out from under her, and she sat down on the ground with a hard thunk. Then, unable to form a coherent sentence, she simply reached out a hand.

Percy crouched down in front of her and passed the journal over without a moment’s hesitation, and she cradled the little leather-bound miracle in her hands.

With one trembling finger, she traced the faded letters along the front.

Odysseus

King of Ithaca

Then gently – painstakingly, carefully – she untied the knot and opened to the first page.

3rd Month.

7th day.

Feast of Apollo.

It is in these last days of my life that I realize the importance of —

She closed the book.

The words were written in the archaic script — the right kind of archaic script. Very few people knew the nuances distinguishing one era of the archaic script from the other (an extra flourish here, a curl there, the off-kilter slant of a particular letter). Usually, it was the most surefire way to spot a forgery.

But not only was the style of the script temporally accurate, the handwriting also matched exactly to what little she had seen in the other journals.

Annabeth’s whole body began to shake.

Something wet hit the cover. She hastily wiped it away with the hem of her Chiton. But then it was replaced by another droplet. And another.

Was that coming from … her?

Annabeth realized, with a sharp stab of humiliation, that she was crying.

Still crouched and at her eye level, Percy pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and silently offered it to her. She snatched it from where it hung in his outstretched fingers and wiped her eyes with as much dignity as she could muster in the moment.

When she had collected herself enough to speak again, she asked, “H-How did you find this?”

“So it’s the real thing?”

“Answer me! ”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s really a story for another time.”

She glared at him – wishing that she, like Medusa, could kill him with a single look.

“You will tell me what I want to know or I’ll not speak another word for the rest of this voyage.”

He huffed out a laugh and moved to sit down, cross-legged, in front of her.

“I got it the same way I got you. Right out from under the Athena’s nose.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“If the Athena did have this journal, she would have told me. I would have known.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He raised one eyebrow in sardonic disbelief. “Because the Grand Priestess of All Knowledge is so known for her generosity, is she? Really loves it when other people know more than she knows? Happy to share all her secrets, wealth, and power?”

Annabeth had no response to that.

“Your queen is as cold as all the other Athenas who came before her. And if there’s anything we can learn from the stories of our ancestors, it’s that those in power would rather eat their young than be replaced by them.”

Again, Annabeth was silent.

Considering.

Agreeing – though she would never admit it.

“I was there during the presentation of your thesis. You shone like the autumn moon in that dark and drafty palace, Priestess.”

The words that dripped from his lips were honeyed poison.

“I could see it from miles away, and so could your queen. It’s why she’s been trying so hard to snuff you out. You needed a little space, a little adventure, and a little sea air.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which made her angrier: his condescending presumption or the fact that she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“One day,” she hissed, “I’ll slit your throat in your sleep and I’ll laugh.”

The moment the words were out, she regretted them. Above them, the navigator stiffened, and Annabeth became intensely aware of just how much bigger than her they both were. She wasn’t used to dealing with this level of frustration, and it, along with the seasickness, was dampening her wits.

Her captor smiled a smile that lacked any trace of amusement, unfurled himself, and stood.

“Just wait until after the quest, please. And in the meantime, decipher the journal and tell us what we need to know.”

“And if I refuse to help you?”

Annabeth jutted out her chin as she asked, feeling vaguely like a small child throwing a tantrum.

Tutor Helena’s voice rang in her mind again.  A memory of the dark and fetid punishment closet cooled her anger.

“Then I’ll take the journal back.”

She fought against the visceral need that howled in her soul – the animal curiosity inside her that wanted to devour the book in her hands.

But that was her weakness speaking. Her power could come only from control.

Annabeth felt a stab of physical pain as she held the book out to him.

“Fine. Take it, then.”

Oh gods, please don’t take it.

Please let me read it.

She steeled herself for the moment he would take it from her. She could be stronger than her desires.

But he didn’t touch it. She’d called his bluff, it seemed.

“There are lives at stake here, Priestess.”

Her lip curled in disgust at the blatant lie.

Lives?  She thought. More like fortunes.

He sighed in the face of her contempt— and Annabeth couldn’t tell if he seemed disappointed or irritated.

Most likely both.

She stood, too, then, not liking the way the stark imbalance in their positions made her feel. Trying and failing not to look as desperate as she was, she pulled the journal tight to her chest, crossing her arms over it protectively.

“I still won’t help.”

“Then you leave me with no choice,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“No choice?” Annabeth hissed. “No choice but to what?”

Her voice was steadily beginning to rise.

“To take me hostage? You’ve done that already. Kill me? You need me too much for that. And I have no worldly possessions or personal connections you can threaten me with either, you spineless worm.”

Her fury burned hot and fast in her chest; she was a tinder – sparked and aflame – and there was nothing to do but let the fire grow.

“You had no right to take me from my home,” she spat.

This was decades of deep-seated resentment bubbling to the surface, she knew.  The last time she had been taken from her bed in the dead of night, she had been too small to fight back. This time, she would. She might not be able to escape him, but she would not yield to him either.

“You have no right to ask for my help.”

“Priestess, please —”

“And I have no patience for your pleas. Whatever lives are so important to you can rot in the pits of Tartarus for all I care.”

She must have struck a nerve because when his green eyes fixed back on hers, they were cold and sharp as emeralds.

All softness disappeared from the lines of his face, and Annabeth realized with a sick, plummeting feeling in her stomach, that this man was perhaps more dangerous than his impish, easy demeanor had initially let on.

She tried to take a step back, but was met with the stairs down to the deck, and gripped the railing to keep from tumbling down them.

She was stupid. Stupid and overly emotional, just as her tutors had always warned her.

“Very well, then.”  When he spoke, his voice was a knife.  “If you refuse to help us or sabotage this quest in any way, we will raze your beloved Scholar City to the ground. I will make the burning of Alexandria look like a campfire.”

Annabeth could swear that her heart stopped beating.

“If you don’t do as I say,” he continued, low and controlled. “My crew and I will reduce every book, every scroll, every tapestry, and every scrap of knowledge in that godsforsaken place to ash. This I swear on the River Styx.”

Then he reached into her pocket, plucked out the vile of Golden Willow Bark she’d stolen from Will, and walked away.

Chapter 3

Annabeth’s heart pounded and her fingers shook as she locked the door to her cell and slumped to the floor.

She hadn’t been expecting that, had perhaps been overestimating herself and underestimating her captors.

She would need a change of plans. But every time she tried to think of what to do, her mind kept straying to the journal still clasped to her chest.

Just … one look couldn’t hurt. Could it?

Focus, you idiot.

She didn’t have time to peruse the journal. They would most likely come to break down the door any moment now, and she needed a new escape plan.

Maybe if she could get to the engine room, she could…

… what?

Disable the engines and leave herself stranded with people who could kill her on a ship in the middle of nowhere?

Row herself to shore? Wait until someone came to rescue her? Neither of those options was promising.

If he hadn’t taken her Golden Willow Bark, she would have been able to make them all sick enough that they’d need to find the nearest port. But now she was essentially toothless, or perhaps rudderless, and her mind was a tangled mess.

And at the center of that mess was the journal in her hands.

Of all the wounds she had been dealt in the past few hours, the realization that this journal had been in the Scholar City this whole time was perhaps the worst.

The Athena had known exactly which crucial crumbs of evidence her thesis was missing, and could easily have given Annabeth access to them. But instead, the head priestess of the Scholar City, whom she admired and feared and longed to please and, yes, hated , in equal measure, had kept it all to herself.

Then, on the day of her cohort’s presentations to the public, the Athena looked at her and, in front of that vast crowd of strangers, sisters, and tutors, had said:

“I expected more from you.”

Annabeth felt as if there was a scream lodged in her throat – one that she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried.

Of course, if she was being honest with herself, that scream had been stuck there since the night her father gave her over to the Athena’s collectors.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall pulled Annabeth from her thoughts and made her heart-rate skyrocket.

“Annabeth!” It was the doctor. He sounded distressed. “Annabeth, I’m sorry. Look it’s—it’s not so bad as — he didn’t mean it like –”

“He meant it how he meant it, Will,” said a cold voice that Annabeth didn’t recognize.

“But she doesn’t understand!”

Another set of footsteps came closer.

“Leave her alone, Will.” Her anger and her fear formed a hot poker in her stomach.

“Percy, you’re being an ass  of - of – of – Zeusian proportions.”

Her enemy’s laugh was low, but she nevertheless heard it through the door. When he spoke again, his voice was closer – right next to the door. Only a few inches of wood between them.

“Priestess,” he said, and Annabeth clenched Luke’s dagger so tightly in her fist that her knuckles turned white. “I’ll give you three days to show me some good faith work on that journal before I turn us to the Scholar City.”

“Fuck. You.”

Some heretofore undiscovered part of herself made her say that, and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

“You’re welcome to. If you feel up for the challenge —”

That arrogant, horrible, slimy–

“--- But regardless, once you give us what we need, I’ll drop you off at the nearest port. So it’s in your best interest to just decipher the journal. Then you can go home. No harm done.”

She stayed silent for long enough that her kidnapper let out an exasperated sigh, and then after a series of irritated whispers, two sets of footsteps walked away from her door.

For the next two days, Annabeth locked the door to her room and refused to leave it.

Not to see Will (though he tried his hardest to coax and cajole), not to eat the meals that Grover left beside the door, and not to breathe in the fresh sea air that she wouldn’t admit she longed for.

She needed some time to lick her wounds. Needed some time to punish herself for her idiocy.

So instead of responding to Will and Grover's attempts to pull her from her self-imposed imprisonment, she relented to their captain’s demands.

The faster she cracked the journal, the faster she could get off of this gods damned ship and back to the Scholar City, and the faster she’d be able to bring the Athena’s wrath down upon them.

Some of them.

Not all of them. Maybe not Will. Or the kindly chef. Or the gentle giant.

Just the captain.

And when she got back to the Scholar City, she could ask why the Athena had kept this from her. Not that she would get any clear answers, but she would try.

And would she ever get another opportunity like this? To hold this book in her hands? To read it? To understand it?

Most likely not.

So there she was, bent double over the journal, with a tension headache building in her temple, stiff shoulders, and a sore back. Fueled by the kind of determination that can only stem from wounded pride.

On her first read-through, Annabeth nearly (definitely) wept with disappointment. There was not a single reference to the Doors of Death, the underworld, or even Hades in the entire journal. On its surface, the entire thing was a convoluted account of Odysseus’s most tried and true farming practices, interspersed with parenting advice, and the occasional tidbits about maintaining marital bliss well into old age.

On her fourth try, however, she realized that on the first page, there was an error in the 3rd, 7th, and 21st words. The mistakes were small — superfluous and stylistic in nature. An Ω with slightly too long tails or a Σ with awkward proportions.

Then she noticed that pattern repeating — 3, 7, 21; 3, 7, 21; again and again throughout the entire journal.

She isolated each word with an error and wrote them out on separate sheets of paper— one paper with a list of each 3rd word, one with each 7th word, and one with each 21st word.

The errors in the 3rd words progressed forward— the first word had a mistake in the first letter, the second had a mistake in the second letter, and so on.

The errors in each of the 7th words progressed backwards.

And the errors in the 21st words alternated, always either falling on the 3rd or 7th letter.

So she wrote down the letters in order, forward for the 3rds and backward for the 7ths.

When it didn’t work, she reversed the order. Backward for the 3rds and forward for the 7ths. That seemed to fit.

After the 20th letter of each, she added either the 3rd or the 7th letter of each successive 21st word.

Then it was a matter of grouping the letters into words that made sense and stringing the words together into sentences.

It was exhausting

It was exhilarating .

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy, so engrossed in the work she was doing that she forgot the rest of the world.  Or… maybe she did. And maybe it had been five years ago.

And when she was done, Annabeth had one full page of instructions.

Begin at the south point of Crete

Keep south – two days, two nights,

Until the waves move backwards

Wait where the blue blooms bright

Then greet the lady of the sea

and give proper sacrifice.

Then go towards the holy lands

Where Hades met his Queen.

Sail between the great rock gap,

to froth and foam of certain death.

Where you must test your mettle first,

Or sink beneath the sea.

Go south around the white-walled land Poseidon does not shake.

Shield your ears from the siren’s song,

or you’ll be theirs to take.

The secrets they might share with you are simply hidden truths

To listen there is to give up the innocence of youth.

Then to the island of the one

who deals in deadly herbs

Shield your heart from Circe’s charm,

but listen to her words.

She understands the world of change,

Of shifting thresholds, loss, and gain.

You cannot step through life and death

Without knowledge of the same.

The servants of Hephaestus

stand guard before the doors.

Remember there a golden rule.

Consider theirs and yours.

And when you are close enough

You will know the doors

for they will call out to your soul.

A tempting, forceful lure.

Follow the call, but do not cross

Between this world and that

For if you succumb to their pull.

Your spirit they’ll entrap.

The 7th month, the 7th day

When Helios returns to sleep

To pass the gates you first must pay

A tithe here for gods of the deep

Or else your thread will be unfurled

So spill your blood for love and keep

A tether to this mortal world.

Then the doors will open wide

For those of us who’ve not yet died

And Hades he will trade a boon

For knowledge that he can consume.

Annabeth read the poem through once, and again. She checked the calendar on the far wall. The seventh day of the seventh month was six weeks away.

Six weeks.

Without her consent, the scream that had lodged itself in her throat so many, many years ago wrenched itself free.

Immediately, someone began pounding on the door.

“Priestess!”

She knew that voice. She hated that voice. But she just didn’t know if she had the energy to direct her anger towards it at the moment.

“If you don’t unlock the door in the next five seconds I’ll assume you’re hurt and break it down.”

Annabeth gathered what scraps of ire she had left before pulling herself up and sliding the deadbolt back.

The door swung open to reveal her captor, who looked almost as tired as she felt.

“Have you been sitting out there this whole time?” She croaked, somewhat taken aback by his appearance. A flicker of spiteful pleasure warmed her chest when she noted the bags under his eyes.

Instead of answering, he asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No. I assume that hurting myself would count as sabotaging the quest. ”

“It would.”

“Right. So no, I didn’t hurt myself.”

His eyes roamed over her, assessing. She didn’t like the way this man looked at her— like he saw her. Like he noticed her and wanted to understand her.

“That’s not entirely true,” he said. “You haven’t eaten in two days. Obviously you haven’t slept, either, or—“ he broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence.

“Or what?” Annabeth felt blood rushing to her face. She had a horrible suspicion he was about to say washed , and it made her feel suddenly, disarmingly, self-conscious.

“Nothing. What made you scream?”

She debated whether or not to tell him.

This was now her secret; she wanted to cradle it to her chest and keep it safely tucked away in the recesses of her mind.

She also had to consider what her captor hoped to gain from this knowledge.

What would he ask of Hades, if they found him? Maybe for some undefeatable weapon, or a power that would grant him dominion over the seas.

If she went along with all this, would the end result put more people in danger, rather than less?

Then again, there was a very high chance that he would die— that they would all die— before they even reached the Doors of Death. Or that there was nothing left to find.

She tried to be as objective as possible as she weighed three variables against one another: her own desperate desire to find the doors, her responsibility to keep this knowledge from people who would abuse it, and her loyalty to the contents of the Scholar City.

Get off the ship. Get someone to send an armada after the Argo. Then maybe the Athena will let you look for the Doors after you return the journal to her.

“I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I deciphered the journal.”

His whole body seemed to straighten, and his eyes grew bright with excitement.

“What, in two days?” He flashed her a broad, unselfconscious smile. “I knew you’d do it. See? Brightest and best of all the Scholar Priestesses— I had a feeling. Show me?”

“No.”

His sudden onset of joy sputtered out like a candle in a rainstorm, and his eyes darkened once again.

“Priestess,” he sighed irritably. “I don’t swear on the Styx lightly.”

“I should hope not, since you’ve sworn to burn thousands of years of hard-won knowledge to the ground if I don’t do as you say.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it won’t work. I’ve got no loyalty to your greedy queen’s trove of stolen books and looted artifacts. They have no flesh and blood.”

“That’s deeply ironic, coming from a pirate.”

“It takes one to know one, Priestess.”

She wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“Did you consider – even for a moment – that those of us who are sworn to defend that knowledge with our lives – ”

She flung out her hand.

“--- would all be bound to try and save as many of those books as possible, and most likely die in your fire? That I –”

That same hand hit her chest with a loud smack.

“---- would be forced to throw myself into the flames, over and over again? That I would have no choice?”

He flinched like she had slapped him.

Curious.

She waited for him to speak, but he was silent.

“I assume that doesn’t negate your threat?”

“No… it doesn’t. What’s sworn can’t be taken back.”

He sounded like the admission left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Oh? And not because you have no regard for right and wrong.”

His lips twisted into some wry approximation of a smile.

“If it helps, I’m really not doing this for personal gain. Well, not entirely, anyway.”

That did not help. But she would take whatever insight, whatever leverage she could get.

“Then what are you doing this for?”

He was silent for a moment; his eyes roamed over her face, searching and thoughtful and conflicted. Like he was deciding whether or not to trust her with whatever he was about to say.

“My mother.”

Annabeth had been ready to scoff at whatever answer he gave, but her contempt got caught in her throat.

“Your mother?”

She’d damned his mother to the pits of Tartarus, then. It was no wonder he’d been so enraged.

Then again, he could be lying. He could be trying to break through her defenses.

Except there was something sincere in his expression and his tone when he said it that made Annabeth want to believe him. And if anyone could understand how someone’s love for their mother might drive them to do desperate things, it was her.

Of course, that didn’t mean she trusted him.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Annabeth began, with much more confidence than she actually felt. “The first part of your journey begins at the southernmost point of Crete. You will leave me in Kythira, and in return, I will give you all of Odysseus’s instructions.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“You might very well be sending us off into a trap. Or you might give us something useless, or incorrect.”

“I can explain how the code works before I go. Then you can check my work yourself. And if I’ve lied, you can always… I don’t know, kidnap me again.”

He deliberated for several long moments.

“We would keep the journal.”

“I won’t—"

“We would keep the journal, Priestess. As insurance. If you send us to our watery graves, the journal will sink with us.”

Annabeth felt that same jolt of physical pain again but shoved it down and nodded.

She would warn the temple sisters in Kythira of the Argo II and its contents, and they could send an armada from Crete after the book.

She’d like to watch him try to worm his way out of that.

Then he cleared his throat and continued.

“We’ll get you to Kythira if you’ll give us the map.”

“Safely? Without any physical harm?”

“Of course.”

“Swear it on your mother’s soul.”

His face turned gravely serious, but he didn’t cower from her challenge.

“Neither I, nor any member of my crew, will intentionally cause you physical harm. We will give you safe passage to Kythira in return for Odysseus’s instructions. I swear it on my mother’s soul.”

“Very well.” She wondered what her soul was worth to him. Hopefully more than his own. “And you’ll give me enough drachma to get back to the Scholar City.”

He pressed his lips together, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Deal?” She prompted, not bothering to hide her impatience.

He stuck out his right hand.

Annabeth eyed his tattooed appendage with disdain.

“Deal,” he rasped.

She gripped his hand in hers. It was warm and dry, rough with calluses, and firm. She felt heat spread through her at the simple touch and quickly yanked her hand back.

“Thank you. I’ll let the crew know our new bearings. We’re close enough to Kythira already that we can arrive by the evening.”

She expected him to leave. He didn’t. So they stood in a stiff and uncomfortable silence for a few moments until he said:

“For my sake, if not for yours, could you please start eating again? Will, Piper, and Grover haven’t stopped yelling at me since you locked yourself away.”

He waited for her to nod before leaving.

Once he was gone, she finally made use of the narrow shower in the private bathroom attached to her cell. It was clean and made of brass and glass, and although the water didn’t get as warm as she was used to, the pressure was wonderful.

When she was clean and dressed, she washed her dirty chiton and hung it to dry in the shower.

Then she cleaned up the strewn piles of paper and the ink spills, she burned her word lists in the bathroom sink, and tucked her paper with the decoded instructions into her well-worn book of children’s poems.

Just in case someone came looking for it.

Oh I wish to go on a voyage

To take my ship out on the sea

To sail off right into tomorrow

With my Annabeth right beside me

West ‘til we reach the world’s edges

then east cross the ocean so blue

Up each river, then down. To each city and town.

With my Annabeth, lovely and true.

She didn’t have to read the poem to know every word of it.  Just as she didn’t have to look at the inscription on the title page to know exactly what it said.

She closed the cover without a second look and put it back with her other belongings. Then she made her way topside, taking in lungfuls of clean ocean air as she did so.

As the captain had predicted, they reached Kythira in the space of a few hours.

She spent most of that time trying to explain Odysseus’s code to him, to almost no avail. Ultimately, It was the mechanist, Leo, who understood it best.

So, by the time they anchored near Kythira, her reluctant services were no longer needed.

Will looked at her with big, mournful eyes as she and her kidnapper were lowered in the dinghy that would take her to shore.

She hadn’t told anyone of her deal with the man, and it seemed that neither had he. So when he’d instructed the crew to weigh anchor and ordered her aboard the dinghy, everyone but Leo had been taken by surprise.

She didn’t bother to say goodbye— why should she?

These people were neither her friends nor her allies; she didn’t owe any of them a farewell, not even Will.

She and the captain rowed to shore in silence,  Annabeth keeping her eyes carefully averted from the sight of him as he pulled on the oars.

She didn’t even so much as glance at the way the muscles in his upper arms and shoulder bunched and then released beneath his shirt as he kept up his steady pace.

And she certainly didn’t notice the way his fingers looked wrapped around the handles. Or the fact that his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing his forearms. Or the way his brows furrowed and jaw clenched in concentration. Or the sweat that dripped along his neck.

Because that would have been absurd.

What she did notice was the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that grew stronger and stronger with each stroke of the oars.

A whirl of warring thoughts in her mind threatened to pull her apart at the seams.

You’ll be able to save yourself and your city.

Stroke

You’ll never be able to get the journal back, get it to the Scholar City, and then get to the Doors of Death in six weeks.

Stroke.

The Athena is finally going to have to acknowledge you.

Stroke.

She isn’t going to listen to you. She knows you’re right. She’s always known. It doesn’t matter.

Stroke

Maybe she’ll have worried about me. Maybe she’ll regret the ways she treated me.

Stroke

She didn’t care before, and she won’t care now.

When they made it to shore, she handed over the page of Odysseus’ instructions to the captain. She ignored the arm he offered and scrambled out of the boat under her own power, thank you very much. Unfortunately, the satchel that held her belongings was a bit cumbersome, so she didn’t accomplish it with quite as much dignity as she’d hoped.

Once she was on dry land again, Annabeth took one step forward.

It was like trying to walk through quicksand—

Like trying to pull against some unimaginably heavy object that she’d somehow been tethered to without realizing it.

Because behind her, still sitting on the Argo II, was the journal.

And they were going to find the Doors of Death.

And she was going to… what?

Go beg for scraps.

They probably weren’t actually going to find anything at all, except maybe for some crumbling old buildings that formed the basis of the myth.

Their quest was futile.

Even if the Doors of Death had existed at one point thousands of years ago, they surely were gone by now. Hades was surely gone, too. Just as all the other gods had left after the Usurpation. So even if they found the doors, they would gain nothing from it.

Nothing.

She took another step.

And then she thought of the nearly translucent pages of the journal—— how easily they might be damaged by rough, overeager hands or exposure to salt water.

She thought of how it was her responsibility to ensure its safe return to the Scholar City, where it could be properly preserved.

She took another step.

She considered how, even if the journey proved fruitless, as it most likely would, it should nevertheless be documented for posterity.

Documented by a professional historian, who could draw the right kinds of conclusions, frame it within its larger historical and cultural context, and disseminate the knowledge to the right people.

If she could get proof of the Doors and what lay beyond them …  the other priestesses, the Athena, wouldn’t be able to ignore her any longer.

Annabeth turned around.

The captain hadn’t moved, not even to untie the dinghy from the dock. He sat quite still, his posture relaxed —- forearms resting on his splayed thighs.

And he was watching her intently.

How did she go about doing this?

I’ve changed my mind, actually. Can I come back with you?

Annabeth was made up of two equal, warring camps: pride and desire— stuck still and unable to move one way or the other.

“You know, Priestess,” he murmured. “We really would be much better off if you were willing to stay with us.”

Annabeth felt her cheeks heat. Her pride had a clawed grip around her heart, and it was squeezing tightly.

She took a step towards the boat.

“I’m not usually one to beg,” he continued, “but I’m not above asking you to reconsider. It would be a kindness on your part, really.”

Oh gods— that voice shot straight through her. It brushed the back of her neck and then down along her spine before settling in to tug at her navel.

She took another step towards him.

“You’re free to leave, of course. But it would be a shame to lose you. So, please, Priestess?”

She stood at the edge of the boat once more— brought there almost instantaneously by the tug and her previously uncooperative feet.

“I could,” she muttered. “As a favor, maybe… because someone needs to be responsible for the journal’s safekeeping.”

He nodded. Not taking his eyes off her.

“Just for the rest of the quest, though. And then … then you’ll take me back to the Scholar City.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It was. She would be back in her room. Back to her work – her duties, her purpose. Back to the world she knew, even if it wasn’t a world she loved. Safe in her library, among her books, behind her walls. It was what she wanted.

It was.

There was no trace of humor in his face; no teasing or amusement at her expense.  If there had been, she would not have been able to get back into the dinghy.  But there wasn’t. So when he extended his hand to help her back into the little boat, she took it.

And when Will whooped with joy upon seeing her climb over the gunwale, she didn’t bother to fight back her small smile.

“You’re back!” He crowed, pulling her into an embrace that was so tight she couldn’t quite breathe.

(Not that she minded. No one had ever been this happy to see her since … since she didn’t know when.)

“Not for forever, though, Will. Just until we find the doors.”

He beamed down at her; the wattage of his smile didn’t dim even one iota at her statement.

“You say that now,” he chirped. “But just you wait, Annabeth. You’ll be one of us in no time.”

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Thank you all ever so much for your comments and kudos! And thank you to everyone who just reads and enjoys!

It took Annabeth a few tries before she was able to leave her room the next day. When she finally made her way to the deck, it was mid-morning , and the braking ecosystem of the ship had begun anew and was well underway.

She had missed breakfast, it seemed.

Annabeth cursed the anxious indecision that had plagued her all morning.

“Annabeth!”

A mop of golden hair came bounding towards her.

“Hazel, Frank, and I are mending the sails. Come join?”

She looked over his shoulder at the dark-skinned girl with golden eyes and the large man beside her.

“I don’t think—”

“The priestess needs to eat first. She’ll join you layabouts in a minute,” said a voice to her left. “Grover’s busy, so you’ll have to put up with my cooking.”

She glanced over at the captain, who was holding out a tin plate to her. It was piled high with food —pita bread slathered in hummus, mounds of olives, and even some sardines. Subsistence food, but she wouldn’t complain. She’d made herself the same thing many times in her life. She took the offering with a grateful, if somewhat forced smile.

“She can eat while she learns, Percy,” Will pointed out. “I’ve missed her company, and you’re not going to keep her from me any longer.”

The captain rubbed at his stubbled jaw for a moment before he nodded.

“I suppose it’s time she started earning her keep.”

He whistled over at Frank and Hazel, and the two of them looked up sharply at him, ready for whatever orders he might give.

“Show her the ropes, will you?” He called out.

They nodded, and he turned back to Annabeth.

“Alright then Priestess, you’re to do exactly as they say, understood?" His voice was serious, but a good-natured smile was crinkling the edges of his eyes. "No whining or whinging. I won’t have you playing the brat on my ship; everyone pitches in, no matter how soft their hands.”

She was about to remind him that first of all, he had no right to make assumptions about how hard she was willing to work, and, second of all, wasn’t her help with the journal already enough of a contribution?

When he pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket and tucked them into the crook of her elbow.

“There, that will keep the blisters at bay.”

Then, to Will, he said, “Share your sun balm with her.”

Before he returned to his usual perch by the wheel, once again leaving her with nothing to say.

Will looked from the plate, to the gloves in her elbow, to her face and then winked at her.

“The captain likes your soft hands and pretty face then, huh?”

He must have seen the way her face paled at the idea because he immediately began to backpedal.

“Sorry! It doesn’t mean anything, honest. Just teasing you a bit.”

“I don’t find the attentions of men I don’t trust funny, William.”

He sucked his teeth and gave her a sympathetic look, then shook his head.

“He always looks out for the new ones just a bit extra. Everyone’s gotta wear my sun balm— heatstroke and sun blisters are a real bitch out here. And he’s not wrong about the gloves, either, your hands will be bleeding by the end of the day without them.”

Annabeth felt slightly mollified, and she followed Will to where his crewmates sat hunched beneath one of the sails, tying some kind of harness and filling a bucket with supplies.

Hazel looked up at her as they stopped beside her and flashed her a half-smile.

“Right,” said the girl. “How much do ya know about ships?”

“I’ve read a few seafaring manuals,” Annabeth said through a mouth full of pita and hummus. A few was a bit of an understatement, but she didn't want to set their expectations too high.  She looked up, chewing thoughtfully, and studied the sails that billowed above their heads. “Looks like there’s a rip in the fore-and-aft? Is that what we’re fixing?”

“Got it in one, Priestess. Frank’s rigging up the harness and pulley that’s gonna help take me up there. He’ll keep hold as I climb, and I’ll patch it back together.”

“And Will?”

“Is here in case I fall.”

“That makes sense,” she tried to say around a full mouth as she scarfed down the final bites of her meal.

The gentle giant offered her his water skein, and she took it gladly.

“Can you tie a reef knot?” He asked once she had drunk her fill.

“In theory?”

“Let’s see then.”

She tried, and failed, and tried again, and failed again.

She gritted her teeth and battled against the flush of heat in her cheeks. Annabeth had always prided herself on being a fast learner and a generally competent person. That some rope was getting the best of her … well, it stung.

Eventually, Frank took pity on her and took the tangled mess from her fingers.

“Watch me do it, then try again,” he said.

Frank was a patient teacher; he coached her through the process of tying a reef knot, then a clove hitch, then a double figure eight.

He showed her how to help Hazel climb up into the rigging with steady, even movements, and how to use her body weight to hold Hazel in place as she mended the sail.

“Don’t drop my girl now, okay?” He muttered to Annabeth as Hazel reached the top of her ascent. His eyes flashed between Annabeth’s grip on the rope and Hazel’s balancing act above. With her two hands busy mending the sails, the golden-eyed girl was almost entirely dependent on Annabeth, Frank, and the ropes to keep from falling.

The level of trust it required — from both of them — unsettled her.

Was it normal for them? Or was this just the way most people who weren’t temple scholars interacted with one another?

Or maybe they were all well-versed in how to weaken their hostages’ defenses.

The rope bit into every patch of her exposed skin, and Annabeth was begrudgingly grateful for the soft gloves the captain had given her.  Frank eyed her as she shifted uncomfortably, trying to lessen the bite of the rope into her side while also shifting her shoulders into a patch of shade.

“You’re gonna need to get yourself some different clothes. That chiton isn’t suited to life at sea.”

Then he called up to Hazel: “Love! You got any spare clothes for the priestess?”

“Piper’s a closer match than me!” She hollered down. Then: “Hey Pipes!”

The woman in question looked up from where she was swabbing the deck and made her way over to them.

“Yeah?” She huffed, wiping sweat from her forehead. Even sweaty and grime-covered, Piper was beautiful in a way most women only ever dreamed of being.

“The priestess needs some clothes,” Frank said. “She’ll get burned alive in that temple getup.” He pointed to Annabeth’s chiton with his chin.

Piper’s gaze traveled over Annabeth, and she clicked her tongue.

“I think I’m about your size. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll come by tonight with some choices.”

Then she went back to her chores.

Annabeth blinked.  There hadn’t been any demand for groveling or payment. No negotiations or trades.

She thought back to her first few months in the scholar city, where, as a girl of only 7 summers, she had been forced to fend for herself from day one.

“We prove ourselves worthy through independence and self-sufficiency, Annabeth,” Tutor Hypatia had said after Annabeth complained that no one helped her when she got lost.

“You must learn to provide for yourself in this world. That is the only way to attain true knowledge— not through the generosity of others, but by overcoming your own failures.”

Annabeth shook her head to clear away the memory.

“Thank you,” she mumbled – too late and too low for anyone to hear.

That night, just as she had promised, Piper brought Annabeth an array of loose-fitting long-sleeved shirts and comfortable pants.

“The heat can be brutal, but the sun is always worse. You’ve gotta keep yourself covered, even if it’s hot out. Especially if it’s hot out.”

“Thank you,” Annabeth said, this time so that Piper could actually hear her, and put the two shirts and two pants she had chosen alongside her other belongings on the desk.

“No problem. I remember what it was like my first few weeks. It's always good to have a little help adjusting.”

“How long have you been…”

“Part of the crew? Maybe six years.”

“And you just gave up your life for this? To become a pirate? To follow him on some dangerous quest to the end of the world?”

Piper leveled her with a steady gaze. She looked like she was measuring Annabeth against some invisible internal standard, and Annabeth felt a little like a bug under a microscope.

“You haven’t seen it yet, but you will.”

“Seen what?”

“The reason. The reason why we would all do just about anything for Percy.”

She spoke with such clarity and certainty that Annabeth couldn’t help but believe her. Just a little bit.

So this was why she was the diplomat, then— not because she beguiled you or twisted your thoughts with honey-sweet lies, but because when she spoke, you felt the truth of her words.

Piper seemed to realize Annabeth needed time to digest what she had said and abruptly changed the subject.

“Go ask Leo for a hat. You’ll need one. He’s got about eight of them, and he’s always designing new ones with all number of ridiculous contraptions attached to them.”

The next few days passed by more slowly than Annabeth would have liked.  The wind was practically nonexistent, so they moved along at a snail's pace – even with the help of the solar engines.

When she had expressed frustration at their lack of momentum and asked why they didn’t just install something stronger and forgo the sails altogether, Hazel had raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Do you know how many engines there are that are powerful enough to take this ship across the ocean without sails?”

“Not off the top of my head, no.”

“Two. Two in the whole world. Both of which are kept behind lock and key in your Scholar City. And what’s worse? They’re too big to steal. So we make do with what we have.”

She didn’t complain again.

Instead, she learned to keep busy.  Annabeth worked alongside the crew, ate alongside the crew, and tried her best to avoid their captain at all costs. It was easier than she’d thought it would be. He seemed more than willing to give her a wide berth.

Except, every once in a while, he had an odd habit of appearing suddenly from out of nowhere to ask her the strangest questions.

(“Priestess, do you know if trees talk to one another?”

“… in a manner of speaking.”

“Hah! Good one. No, but really. How?”)

(“Priestess, what was the deal with Pythagoras and his beans?”

“He was a vegetarian.”

“But that can’t be the only explanation. Right?”)

She was waiting for him to kick her out of his quarters. Knew it must be coming at any moment; i t was only a matter of time, she was sure. But he never even hinted at it.

Leo taught her how to take apart, clean, and reassemble an assortment of weapons— ranging from traditional guns and semi-automatic crossbows to electro-magnetic cannons.

She taught him a new chemical formula for gunpowder, and in return, he gave her a wide-brimmed hat with four secret compartments. She did not use them to smuggle out any of the gunpowder, although she was tempted.

She spent a lovely afternoon in the kitchen with Grover, who extolled the importance of a Pythagorean diet. He showed her his vertical hydroponic garden, and practically shone with delight as she fawned over the miracle of his growing plants in the middle of the ocean.

And, over cups of tea with honey (how long had it been since she had last had honey? Grover had given her a spoonful to eat when he saw the greedy look in her eyes), they bonded over their shared fascination with the migration habits of blue swallowtail sea serpents.

And of course, after dinner, she and Will would disappear into his office to work together on his ongoing experiments.

For her daily chores, because the captain insisted she partake in daily chores, she took over mending the sails. Of all the jobs aboard the ship, it was, surprisingly, the one to which she was best suited.

The sails of the Argo II needed to be mended with particular care. They were made of a fabric that Leo himself had designed, which was interspersed with lightweight micro-solar cells. They were a work of true genius — the sort of invention that the Athena would take for herself if she ever learned of their existence.

They used the power from those cells to run the engine and provide the ship with basic electricity. A sloppy patch job would mean not only having to re-mend the sails, but might also delay their journey and cause an issue with the little luxuries they all relied on — like the heated running water in the bathrooms, Grover’s hydroponic garden, the refrigerator, and the electric stove.

As a priestess of the Athena, she had been trained from a young age in all of the fiber arts. She could weave the most beautiful rug you’ve ever seen with her eyes closed. She could embroider delicate patterns with both hands tied behind her back. (A slight exaggeration, maybe, but only just).

It soon became obvious to everyone that she could patch up a sail with twice the precision and in half the time as anyone else onboard. Not to mention, she was far more confident up in the air than anyone had expected.

She had no idea why – except maybe that it reminded her of climbing up the tall trees that grew around her childhood home.

“You belong in the trees, Little Owl,” her father used to say to her.

It scared Will to no end, the way she scampered up the rigging and along the masts. She could practically hear his gasp every time she so much as wobbled, but Annabeth felt secure in the knowledge that Frank was holding her steady with his overly large biceps and tree-trunk legs.

Sometimes she let her foot slip. Just for fun. Will would put his hand to his forehead and groan, and sometimes, sometimes , she’d hear a laugh from the direction of the wheel.

But no amount of melodramatic moans from Will could keep her from her perch in the air. Not when it allowed her to see everything for miles around—- pods of whales breaching far out in the distance, vast schools of shimmering fish, dolphins playing in the ship's wake, and even the occasional sea turtle, just a small splotch in the pale blue expanse below.

The others never teased her for the way she would gasp and run to find the best view of whatever new phenomenon she was witnessing, regardless of what she’d been doing a moment before. And for that, she was grateful.

The world had never been so beautiful as it was from up in the sails of the Argo II. Because from all the way up there, all of it was hers to study – both outside and inside of the ship.

Alongside the abundant marine life, she was also able to observe the habits and interactions of her…

She didn’t know how to refer to them. Her former kidnappers? Her temporary allies?

Regardless of what she called them, they were nevertheless interesting to watch. From her bird's eye view, the way they moved around one another looked almost like dancing.

A twist here. A spin there. A gentle, unselfconscious touch of a hand against a back or elbow or shoulder. A playful poke or a sly trip – the kind of trick siblings might play on one another.

She made note of every interaction she saw, keeping careful track of who avoided whom (it seemed to her that Nico avoided everyone, but especially Will.)  Who gravitated towards whom (Will gravitated towards everyone, but especially Nico.)

She watched the way everyone seemed to orbit around the captain. He played with his crewmates, laughed with his crewmates, and worked alongside them. There was never a job too low for him; when someone was too tired to swab the deck, he would take over; when no one wanted to scrub the latrines, he would do it.

It made her feel a small twinge of admiration and envy every time she witnessed it -- so vastly different from the rigid hierarchies of her own world.

Today, everything around her seemed especially calm and quiet, which was why she was so surprised when Frank called her back from the mainsail, only a few minutes after she had gotten up there.

“I’m just getting started! What’s the issue?” She yelled down to him.

“Captain says a storm’s coming in! Time to batten down!”

“What? What’s he talking about!” She looked over her shoulder. There were a few clouds darkening the distant horizon, but they were miles away.

“No arguing, Priestess,” called up another voice. “Get your two feet back on the deck, or I’ll come up there and drag you down myself.”

She glanced down at the scowling face and bright green eyes below her, then back to the crystal clear waters ahead.

She would come down, and then when it didn't so much as rain, she would throw it in his face.

“Fine!”

She leaned back into the rope harness and pressed the flat of her feet against the mast, walking down it step by step as Frank slowly lowered her to the ground.

When she had disentangled herself, she turned to the tiresome man behind her and said, “Those clouds are too far away—“

“It’s not your place to question me in this, oh wise one. You might be more educated than me, but I know the seas better than you. Now get inside.”

He’s not wrong, Annabeth reluctantly reminded herself as she bit back another retort.

So, instead of saying what she wanted to say, she just muttered a sarcastic, “Yes, Captain,” and walked over to the deck doors.

Just as she reached them, the wind picked up, the sky darkened, and a boom of thunder sent shockwaves through the ship.

The captain didn’t even bother with an ‘I told you so.’

The crew was moving quickly, each to their own responsibilities. But they were calm, as only people who had been through many a storm before could be.

“Jason! Where to safe haven?”

“Nothing close enough, Captain! And we can't ride it out of here, either. Storm’s coming in fast off the port bow.”

The captain swore.

“Bare poles!” He bellowed over the sound of the incoming storm. “Bow end-on to the waves!”

The energy on the deck intensified tenfold at his command, becoming almost frantic. And then the sky opened above them.

“Weigh anchor!” The captain ordered as he hauled the ropes that controlled the sails, hand over hand, steady and strong.

Frank ran to follow his command.

What could she do? What could she do? She couldn’t just hide.

But when Annabeth searched her memories for what needed to be done on a ship during a storm, she came up blank.

Panic and indecision were freezing her in place.

“Will!” She could hear Nico shouting over the howling winds. “William Solace! Get inside!”

“Almost done!” Will yelled back – he was securing one of the cannons to the railing.

And Annabeth felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach; she had a sense of what was about to happen just before it did.

“Will!” Annabeth screamed. Or rather tried to – what came out of her was more of a breathless gasp.

Then the boat pitched and rolled as it crested a wave, and Will tumbled backwards over the gunnel into the waves below.

A bell rang out from the quarterdeck, harsh and sharp, and the captain’s head jerked up as Jason sounded the alarm.

“Man overboard! Starboard bow!”

The captain moved quick as the lightning that flashed just above their heads — sprinting to the starboard bow, tying a rope around his waist, and diving into the water without a second's hesitation.

Frank was there a heartbeat later, gathering up the other end of the rope in his hands and wrapping it around his waist before dropping to the ground and bracing his legs against the edge of the ship.

The force of the waves below was stronger even than him, though, and Annabeth knew that the rope would be slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to cling to it.

He wasn’t alone for long, however  –  Nico suddenly appeared and situated himself alongside his crewmate, lending his own strength to what seemed like an impossible task.

Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by the crack of thunder.

Another wave hit the ship, plunging down onto Nico and Frank, and sending its contents flooding onto the deck.

For a moment, Annabeth wished the gods were still among them – at least they could have been reasoned with where nature could not.

With Nico and Frank both struggling to hold on to their captain’s lifeline, Hazel was left to secure the rigging herself. She cursed the sky and the seas and everything in between as she fought tooth and nail against the elements of nature and gravity to keep the ship from being pulled deeper into the storm.

Move! Annabeth screamed at herself.  Help her! You useless, spineless, worthless coward. What use is your mind if you can’t use it to help them when they need you?

But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t make her legs move. Something primal in the back of her mind absolutely refused to obey her. The boat rolled again beneath her feet, and she leaned heavily against the door to the deck, clinging to the rails with shaking, clawed fingers.

“Piper!” Jason hollered out, and Annabeth watched as the diplomat skittered unhesitatingly across the swaying ship to take the wheel from Jason’s hands. Annabeth felt a brief flash of admiration – Piper would have to be strong, incredibly strong, to handle the helm in a storm like this.

“Hold her steady!” He ordered, before sprinting to join the two other men at the prow. How he managed to move like he was on solid ground was beyond Annabeth’s comprehension.

He dropped down beside Frank and Nico, and his help seemed to be the final piece they needed. With him there, the three of them gained better control over the rope, letting it loose inch by inch, slowly and carefully.

Grover rushed to the edge of the ship, leaning precariously over the edge himself to keep an eye on the frothing waters below, and Annabeth’s heart leapt as his hooves scrabbled for purchase against the slick wood.

Time passed both too slowly and too quickly, and Annabeth, glued to the spot, could only watch and hope.

Percy had jumped into the water without even glancing over his shoulder to see if his crewmates would get to the rope in time.

Because he was reckless?

Because he trusted them?

Or because he knew every second he wasted brought Will closer to death?

“He’s up!” Grover yelled. “Heave!”

“Heave!” Jason’s voice chimed in with Grover.

“Heave!” Nico’s voice now, too, and Frank’s.

“Heave!”

As quickly as it came on, the storm was beginning to recede. The rain was slowing, and the pitching of the ship beneath her feet was lessening.

“Heave!”

“Heave!”

Then they were there, Will hanging onto Percy’s shoulders, and the two of them stumbled, coughing onto the deck.

“Inside! Get everybody inside!” Percy ordered, gasping, from where he knelt over her friend. Frank bent and scooped Will up into his arms, and Jason helped his captain back onto his feet.

They moved swiftly back towards the quarter-deck, Frank, still holding Will while also shepherding Hazel along with his body— blocking the wind and rain as much as he could with his own form.

When they drew close enough that Annabeth could see their faces, could see the rise and fall of Will’s chest, she felt her own breathing finally relax.

The ship's shadow looked more shaken than she had ever seen a man look before.

Percy’s eyes roved over the ship and sparked with fury when they caught on her, but they didn’t linger. Instead, he lifted his gaze to the wheel.

“Give me the helm, Piper, and go get warm. I’ll hold her through the rest of it,” he said to the woman above.

“Captain, let me –” Jason began, but Percy shook his head.

“Worst is over, Jason. I’ve got her. Just get Will into a bed. The priestess can take over from here.”

Then he flicked his bright eyes in Annabeth’s direction and narrowed them at her. He pointed a finger behind her and mouthed, “Inside.”

She didn’t argue this time.

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Finally able to do something helpful, Annabeth told Frank to put Will in her bedroom and ordered the rest of the crew out.

“I need space to work. Grover, make him something warm and sweet to drink. Mint tea with a lot of honey, if you can. And get me some ice packs.”

All but one person did just as she said.

Nico, shadow that he was, refused to leave Will’s side. He stood against the door, eyes tight with worry and suspicion as she stripped Will of his soaked clothes and wrapped him in layer after layer of blankets.

“He’s shaking,” Nico’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Why is he shaking so much?”

“He’s in shock. I’ll grab him a nerve tonic. Come here.”

Though he had insisted on staying behind, the man suddenly looked apprehensive as he made his way to the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be right back with some supplies. Don’t let him fall asleep and keep him warm.”

This time, her legs obeyed her as she ran down the hall to Will’s office.

Using the hem of her shirt as a makeshift basket, Annabeth grabbed everything she could get her hands on — antiseptic and gauze, nerve tonic, bruise balm, splint supplies, pain control medication, and one of Will’s newer inventions that would slow any internal bleeding.

Then she ran back to her room.

When she arrived, she saw that Nico had sat beside Will on the bed and pulled him into the curve of his side; he was murmuring something she couldn’t hear into Will’s damp hair.

The sight was so tender that Annabeth’s breath caught in her throat.

Nico loves him, she realized.

So why weren’t they together? Like Frank and Hazel, or Piper and Jason?

“I said don’t let him fall asleep,” she chastised, not unkindly, as she strode across the room.

“He’s not asleep,” Nico replied without looking at her.

Annabeth knelt beside the bed and her eyes caught on Will’s, which were indeed open. But his eyelids were dropping and his pupils were blown wide.

“He’s got a concussion at the very least,” she muttered – it was habit to think aloud during a medical diagnosis. “Shock, most definitely. Can you hear me, Will? William, look at me.”

His eyes focused on her face for a moment.

“ ‘m awake,” Will mumbled, and his gaze then drifted again.

“Hearing is intact.”

She began to run her hands along his body, pressing and poking to assess each tender spot.

“Sprained wrist, bruised ribs, but not broken thank the gods. Roll him over.”

Nico did as she said, causing Will to let out a small whimper of pain.

“Shh, I know,” Annabeth murmured. “It’s okay. I just need to finish checking you out and then we’ll get you all fixed up.”

Nico cradled Will’s head in the crook of his arm.

She ran careful fingers from the base of his skull down to his tailbone, along each and every ridge in his spine. Then pressed them gently into the flesh of his lower back.

“Spine is intact, and no tenderness in the kidneys.”

The tension that had been keeping her shoulders by her ears eased out of her. There would have been nothing she could do if his spine had been seriously injured.

But everything seemed manageable— healable. Of course, they wouldn’t know for a while yet if there were issues she couldn’t find with only a preliminary exam.

She was desperate for the medical resources of the scholar city — the imaging machines that could look into a human body, the expert surgeons who could mend just about any injury and pull even the most terrible cases back from the brink of death.

But since the Athena and her priestesses hoarded that particular knowledge like jealous dragons, there wouldn’t be any nearby medical centers with the technology she needed.

Just then, Grover came back into the room, a cup of tea in one hand and two ice packs in another.

She took the cup and poured in the nerve tonic, along with the pain medication and the syrup that would slow any internal bleeding.

She held the cup out to Nico.

“Help him up and have him drink this. It won’t taste great, but he needs to drink every drop.”

He obeyed.

As Nico coaxed the drink down Will’s throat, she took hold of his fractured wrist and carefully fashioned a splint around it.

Then she secured one ice pack on his wrist, wrapped his ribs, and tucked the other ice pack into the wrap.

“Okay, set him back down. There we go.”

She dabbed bruise paste on the contusions forming along his arms and abdomen, then slathered a generous amount of antiseptic on every cut she could see.

She tilted Will’s chin and examined his eyes again. His pupils were still too wide, but he was able to focus on her face now.

“Now we wait. No sleeping, William. We need to make sure you haven’t got a cerebral hemorrhage, okay?”

“Okay,” he croaked, and Annabeth noted with relief that his shaking had stopped.

“How will we know if there’s a hemorrhage?”

Percy’s voice startled her so badly that she jumped. She twisted to look at the man in the doorway— soaking wet, bleeding from a gash in his arm, and entirely unconcerned about his own state.

“We watch his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. If we see any blood, he’s most likely hemorrhaging.”

“And what do we do if that happens?”

“I relieve the pressure as best I can by drilling cranial holes -”

Nico flinched.

“ - and we take him to the closest hospital.”

Percy nodded; then he leaned against the doorframe and sank to the floor.

It was only then that Annabeth noticed the ship’s rocking was significantly less forceful than it had been just a few minutes ago.

“The storm?”

“Mostly passed. This kind of tempest isn’t uncommon during the summer months – they come and go quickly, but violently. It should stay quiet long enough for us to tend our wounds before we get the Argo II moving again. You mind seeing to a few other patients?”

Annabeth looked over at Nico, who was studying the side of Will’s face with so much intensity, she didn’t think he even blinked.

“Nico,” she prompted, and the man glanced up at her. “Change into dry clothes before you soak through the blankets.”

He nodded and stood to do as she ordered, though he moved slowly and kept his eyes trained on Will.

Reassured that her friend would be well cared for, Annabeth unfolded herself from the edge of the bed, collected her supplies into a nearby basket, and made her way over to Percy.

“Let’s see, then,” she said, crouching down and holding out her hand for his forearm. Despite the fact that he was soaked through to the bone, he somehow still radiated warmth. Annabeth felt a twinge of worry that her constantly cold fingers would somehow irritate him.

“I didn’t mean me, Priestess. I just need a moment's rest and a change of clothes. Go take a look at Frank, Hazel, and Jason. Their hands are all cut up.”

She tsked and ignored his protestations — reaching out for his bleeding arm and bringing it up to take a closer look.

Her eyes snagged for a moment on the tattoos painted across his flesh—- a trident, a Pegasus, a blue swirling pattern, a jellyfish.

She wondered if they had hurt.

“You need stitches, and you’re lucky this cut wasn’t any further down your arm, or else you might have bled to death in that water. Let me take care of you first, then I’ll find Frank.”

Percy was clearly displeased with the idea.

“I’ve had worse,” he grumbled.

She squared her shoulders and tried her best to channel the terrifying Tutor Mikaela as she leveled him with the most commanding look she could manage.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to let you bleed to death just because you have a savior complex and seaweed for brains.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an exhausted half-smile, which she took as a signal of his acquiescence.

She turned to look at Grover.

“Get me a needle and thread and a bottle of your strongest alcohol.”

“What kind of alcohol?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever can strip the paint off the deck.”

He ran to do as she asked, and she bent to clean the captain’s wound with Will’s antiseptic, her mind swirling with everything she wanted to say but refused to let slip past her lips.

You jumped in after him.

You jumped in after him.

You could have died in that water.

He would have died in that water.

But you jumped in after him.

She now understood what Piper had meant about seeing the reason they all followed him. Because here it was, right in front of her: he would gladly risk his life for his crew.

And the ease with which he had gone after Will gave Annabeth the sense that he had taken similar risks a few times before.

The thought caused a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Here,” she said, holding out the bottle of pain medicine to him. “Have some of this before Grover gets back. Stitches aren’t just something you can just grit your teeth through.”

He accepted the bottle with reluctance, taking only a tiny sip when she narrowed her eyes at him. When she was satisfied, she took the bottle back and returned her attention to his injury.

“While I have you here, Priestess,” he murmured after a long moment of tense silence, “you and I need to have a little chat about following orders.”

A tingling sensation made its way from the top of Annabeth’s head, down her spine, and into her toes. She didn’t pay it any mind.  Instead, she kept her gaze on his arm and fought fruitlessly against the rush of blood that she knew was staining her cheeks. Her embarrassment was silly; she hadn’t been the reason why Will fell overboard, after all.

But, a small voice in the back of her mind said, your stubbornness wasted precious seconds.

Her unwillingness to follow his every command wasn’t illogical, though. It wasn’t as if she had been given any reasons to trust him or his judgment.

Until now.

Annabeth could admit that what he had done for Will might have changed her perspective on him an infinitesimal amount, but she would continue to be resolutely stubborn in the face of his authoritarianism.

“Look at me, Wise Girl.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

Where she expected to see irritation or disappointment, there was none; instead, he looked at her beseechingly.  He wasn’t angry with her, and she wasn’t relieved about that in the least. Because she sought neither his approval nor the loyalty and care he showed his crewmates.

“I understand why you don’t trust me. But out here, your safety and the safety of my crew depend on my orders being followed without question. Is that understood?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded — one sharp jerk of her head. Then she hurriedly dropped her gaze back down to where her hands were cleaning his still bleeding bicep.

She braced herself for him to keep pressing the matter, the way her tutors would have.

( ‘Explain to me what you did wrong, Annabeth.’

‘Your hubris will be your downfall, impudent girl.’

‘You’re a waste of space, you snotty little know-nothing.’)

And she was simultaneously relieved and unsettled when he didn’t.

When Grover returned with the supplies she needed, Annabeth worked as quickly and efficiently as she could – desperate to create space between herself and the man before her. With well-practiced hands, she sterilized the needle and thread.

Then, just for good measure and certainly not because she wanted to make him wince in some feeble attempt to take back her sense of power, she poured a healthy dose of spirits over the gash in his arm. But he didn’t flinch away or complain.

She could feel his breathing grow more and more shallow as she sewed the skin closed. With each increasingly rapid exhale, his breath brushed against her neck.

When she was through with her work, she gathered up her supplies once again, scrambled to her feet, and fled from the room without so much as another word.

She needed to leave behind the smell and the warmth of him, the feeling of his eyes on her face. They had been trained on her the entire time.

Frank and Hazel were easier patients by far. If only because they didn’t make Annabeth feel unsettled in the way Percy did.

They sat together on the floor of the bunk room. Hazel was nestled between Frank's legs, her head lolling back on his shoulder, his chin resting atop her head.

They were the picture of comfort. Or, they would have been, were it not for the injuries they were nursing.

Both of them had severe rope burns across their hands and forearms; Hazel from hauling up the sails and Frank from holding on to Percy. The rope burns on his palms were particularly brutal, jagged things – testaments to just how hard he had fought to save his friends.

What is wrong with these people? Annabeth thought venomously, she tended to Frank’s wounds. Dousing them in spirits, then dabbing on antiseptic and wrapping them in gauze.

They throw themselves into raging seas. They let their hands be shred to ribbons. They …

A quick succession of images flashed in her mind’s eye:

Nico’s face as he watched over Will.

Frank, holding his friend in his arms, yet still shielding Hazel from the winds.

Grover leaning out over the ocean just to catch a glimpse of his captain’s reemerging form.

The way Jason looked at Piper with painfully soft eyes. The way he gave her half his meal when she was particularly hungry.

The way Grover beamed with joy as he fed each and every one of them.

The way Leo and Percy roughhoused like wolf pups when their chores were done.

The way Hazel and Piper leaned against one another in the shade of the sails when they were worn out from the sun’s rays.

They're a family.

The thought was a dull knife to her gut. Annabeth tried to clamp down on the envy that rose up in her throat, but it was no use. A deep, dark, bitter longing echoed through her bones.

So for the second time in the space of an hour, Annabeth fled.

She ended up in an isolated corner of the kitchen, tucked safely away between Grover’s garden and the pantry.

And, for a while, she was alone.

Blissfully, mercifully alone.

Horribly, cruelly alone.

She tried to do what her tutors had taught her when she was a child:

Examine each thought and feeling, catalog it, understand the cause, and then put it away someplace in her mind where it wouldn’t ever bother her again.  That way, she could maintain control over herself.

Controlled, calm, clever. Controlled, calm, clever.

She was able to do the first two steps, but never quite made it to the third and fourth.

It went something like this:

I am anxious because …

I’m sad because …

I’m feeling guilty because…

I’m homesick because …

Only she didn’t want to think about why she was anxious, sad, guilty, and homesick.

She didn’t want to step back and think about each feeling objectively.

She just wanted…

Someone, anyone, to tell her it was okay to feel this way. That she wasn’t alone, despite the fact that she hadn’t felt so lonely in years— decades.

Or maybe she had just grown numb to it, so used to the feeling that she had forgotten it was there. And now that she had noticed it again, it was impossible to put back on the shelf. The pain wouldn’t ebb, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

So when Grover eventually stumbled upon her, it was no wonder he sounded so concerned.

“Annabeth?”

His voice was soft as he moved towards her –  kind of like how one would approach a wounded animal.  She supposed that made sense.

“Annabeth, are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Should I go get Percy?”

“No!”  She couldn’t stop the immediate panic that coursed through her at the suggestion.

“Okay, I won’t. It’s okay, Annabeth. Everyone is okay.”

She let out a bitter, watery laugh.

“Do you mind if I come sit with you?”

Did she? She wasn’t sure.

She shook her head again.

“Okay. I’m coming over. Let me know if I get too close.”

He took a few steps forward, then a few more, until he was standing right next to her in her hiding spot.

Slowly, he lowered himself down until he was sitting beside her.

“What’s got you so upset?”

Annabeth didn’t answer right away. She barely understood what was going on in her mind. How could she possibly explain it to someone else? And, if she did explain it, how would he react?

Would he tell her she was being selfish? Call her childish, like her tutors and temple sisters used to do? Reprimand her for crying in a corner when others needed her help and were hurt worse than she was?

Here was a ledge. Here was a precipice.

She could hide or she could leap. And Annabeth was so, so tired of hiding. So she took a great, hiccuping breath, and she tried.

“I just—"

She tried again.

“I just—"

One last time.

“I want my father!”

Her most terrible secret came out in a pathetic little gasp. And although she could barely believe she had actually said it, Annabeth nevertheless felt slightly unburdened.

And then, miracle of all miracles, Grover didn’t push her for a better explanation or curl his lip in disgust. Instead, he nodded, his eyes warm with a kind of understanding that made Annabeth’s tears flow even faster.

His arm came around her shoulder, and, at an utter loss for what the appropriate thing to do in this moment was, she dropped her head against his chest and sobbed.

She sobbed for the little girl who had woken up, kicking and screaming, as the Athena’s collectors took her from all she had ever known.

For the girl who had begged her father not to let them take her.

For the girl who had been cold and alone for the past 16 years.

For the girl who didn’t exist anymore – buried as she was under layer after calcified layer of anger and grief and resentment. He stayed with her until her tears lessened, and then dried entirely. And he didn’t complain even once that she was soaking through his shirt.

As her tears abated, so did her grief. And eventually, Annabeth was able to right herself and wipe her eyes with her sleeves.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she shifted to put space between herself and Grover.

“You don’t have to apologize, Annabeth. Today was awful. Actually, I’m pretty sure this whole experience has been awful for you.”

Annabeth couldn’t stop the scoff that tore itself from her throat.

“I’m sorry for what we did to you, and I know I’m not the only one. We just,” he took a deep breath. “We didn't have any other choice. Taking you was a last resort.”

Annabeth couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to say to that. It’s fine? No problem?

Neither of those would be true.

“I promise we won’t let anything bad happen to you though, okay? We'll look out for you, Annabeth.”

Oh gods, she was going to start crying again.

He couldn’t keep that promise, because no one could.

Not him.

Not her father.

Not even herself.

But instead of admitting any of that, she just said, “Thanks, Grover.”

He studied her face for a little while, then asked, “Do you want to help me make dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

Later that evening, after Annabeth had eaten her fill and while the others ate dinner up on the deck, she returned to her room.

Will was still wrapped up in the blue silk blanket, and Nico still kept watch over him, although he had moved to a plush armchair beside the bed.

“You should go eat,” she whispered.

His voice was cold and curt when he responded.

“I’m fine here.”

“I’ll look after him. You need to take care of yourself, just for a little while.”

“I said I’m fine, Priestess.”

Annabeth sighed. She had seen this many times before — family members at the bedside of their loved ones, coiled tight like a spring.  They almost always needed to step away. They also almost always refused to even consider the idea.

“If you refuse to get anything for yourself, at least go get a plate of food for Will.”

For a long moment, Nico didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken. Then he slowly stood and moved towards the door behind her.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the man on the bed before slipping out into the hallway.

“What happened?” Will murmured as Annabeth slid into the chair Nico had just vacated.

“Nothing.”

Her golden-haired friend let out an irritated growl.

“You’re just as bad as Nico! Honestly, the two of you are more repressed than…”

“Than what?”

“Well, I was going to say an Athenian Scholar Priestess, but…”

For the first time in years, Annabeth threw her head back and laughed a real, true laugh. Will grinned at her, but then his expression darkened.

“So are you going to tell me who made you cry, or do I have to figure it out for myself?”

She sighed.

“No one made me cry, Will. It’s just been a difficult day is all. I’m fine.”

He looked at her skeptically.

“I mean it! I was sad, then I cried, and now I’m okay. That’s how catharsis works.”

Then she changed the subject with all the subtlety of an Archaic monument to Zeus.

“How’s your head?”

He raised an eyebrow but allowed the question.

“A little sore, and it hurts to focus on any one thing for too long. But I’m mostly alright, I think.”

“Your wrist? Ribs?”

“Sore, but manageable.”

“Throat?”

“Stings like a bitch. But it’s nothing that won’t heal.”

They were both quiet for a moment.

“My heart, on the other hand,” Will hedged.

“Your heart!” Annabeth’s hands flew to the pulse point on his wrist. “What’s wrong with your heat? Are you having palpitations?”

She counted each flutter of his skin; his pulse was normal beneath her fingertips. She began counting again, just in case she missed something the first time.

“No palpitations. Just an ache.”

“An ache? What do you mean— oh. I see. An ache.”

Will gazed at her with big, doleful eyes.

“Do you think he loves me?”

“Yes.”

Will let out a shuddering breath.

“Me too.”

“So why doesn’t he—“

“Remember how I told you some people had it worse?”

“Oh.”

Will gave her a sad little smile, and Annabeth’s heart broke for him. For both of them.

“I love him too, though, so it’s okay. I can wait as long as he needs, and when he’s ready, I’ll be there.”

Will’s easy and honest declaration left Annabeth speechless. Only someone far, far braver than she could ever be, would say something like that.

“I hope he’s ready soon,” was all she could think of to say.

“Oh skies, you have no idea,” he groaned. Then he looked at her and grinned. “Actually, maybe you do.”

“If you’re about to make fun of me for being a 23-year-old virgin, just know that I’ll have no issues with throwing you overboard again.”

That made him laugh, and his happiness, infectious as it was, sent a wave of warmth through her. He clasped her hand in his and squeezed it tight. It was a gesture of connection, solidarity, and companionship all rolled into one.

Just then, a sudden, terrible, wonderful thought occurred to Annabeth:

This was what she had always imagined friendship would feel like.

It was an earth-shattering thought—- a terrifying possibility. All her previous attempts at friendship, back when she had first joined the temple, had never ended well for Annabeth. She had learned the hard way that it only ever made you more vulnerable. Left you open to all number of betrayals and disappointments.

Still, she couldn’t quite force this feeling back into the Pandora’s jar it sprang from.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Will,” she murmured.

And it was the truth.

Chapter End Notes

Ah, the ice begins to melt.

Fun fact, Pandora's box is a mistranslation of the original Greek, which is better translated as Pandora's jar. Just in case anyone was worried or wondering! Also the title of an interesting book by Natalie Haynes.

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

Thank you all, as always!!

(I've recently realized I need to up the chapter count. Turns out, it's super fun to smut scenes, and so I would like to dedicate more space to that in this fic. It will be a little while, but they're on the horizon, fair sailors.)

They had to stay anchored all the next day to repair some minor damage to the ship. Annabeth spent the day alternating between resecuring the ropes of the mainsail and mizzenmast, and tending to Will. Every once in a while, she would catch the captain watching her, and pretend not to notice.

The day passed quickly— the crew of the Argo II made for good company, it seemed, once she stopped planning how to kill them.

Late that night, despite her exhaustion, she found herself up on the top deck once again. Nico had returned to the room, even more surly for having been kicked out earlier, and Annabeth had quickly made herself scarce.

It was her first time seeing the full night sky from the prow of the ship, and if she had thought the view during daylight was beautiful…

Well, it paled in comparison.

Without the interference of electric lights, she could see every star that hung above her. And the sea was so calm and clear that it reflected the Milky Way with almost perfect clarity. The effect was more than magical, it was life-affirming.

In this moment, she was no longer tethered to the mortal world; instead, she was sailing through the vast expanse of space.

She looked over her shoulder, up into the rigging and mast of the fore-and-aft. It would be stupid to climb up it without anyone here to catch her, but the thought was so, so tempting.

There were footsteps behind her, and from the corner of her eye, she saw scruffy black hair atop a long, lean silhouette.

“Don’t even think about it, Priestess.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she retorted, trying to keep the guilt of being caught considering it from her tone.

He let out a disbelieving hum.

“I know what that look on a woman’s face means,” he drawled.

“And what does it mean, exactly?”

“Means you’re about to make a very bad decision.”

“And women often look at you like that, do they?”

He grinned at her, and there was a gleam in his eyes that she did not want to try and interpret.

“Never mind,” she muttered and quickly turned back to face the water.

He came up behind her, and she could feel the warmth that radiated from his chest against the back of her neck.

He moved so that they stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out across the sea of stars ahead. She didn’t look at him, but she felt his eyes on her.

“How old is the oldest star?”

“Billions of years, they say.”

“ Billions?”

“Billions.”

He let out a low whistle and reached out like he wanted to run his fingers through the sky.

“Do you think they talk to each other? Y’know, like trees do?”

She hummed, a little enchanted by the idea.

“I’m not sure.”

For a moment, Annabeth was caught up in the image of stars, reaching out tendrils of light across the vast expanses of space to…

To feel a little less alone in their corner of the universe.

“Why did you do it?”

Annabeth hadn’t realized she was going to ask the question until it was already out of her mouth.

“Do what?”

“Jump in after him.”

Percy leaned with his forearms against the railings, one hand crossed over the other. Annabeth kept her eyes trained on the waters below.

He smelled like sweat and the sea. For whatever reason, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Will is part of my crew,” he said, as if that was explanation enough.

“That’s not a real answer.”

“Sure it is,” he replied, his voice soft. “You just don’t understand what I mean.”

How did he always make her feel so frustrated all the time? Usually, Annabeth could keep an even temper — even her most malicious temple sisters had failed to get a rise out of her.

But he did it so easily.

“So you’re insulting me, then?”

“No— I’m saying you don’t know what my crew means to me.”

That made Annabeth hold her tongue.

Fine. She would give him this chance to speak, and whatever he said would decide what she did next.

“The people on this ship don’t just work for me, Wise Girl.”

His voice was quiet and thoughtful as he spoke.

“We’re all here because there isn’t a place for us out in the world. So we’ve found a home with each other. They’re my family. My responsibility. And I would die before I let any harm come to them.”

There they were again— her new companions: the ache, the envy, and the loneliness.

In the back of her mind, she remembered her initial conversation with him.

“See? I knew I needed you in my crew.”

Did his loyalties extend to her, too, then?

Annabeth took in a deep breath; it got caught somewhere on the jagged edges of her heart.

She turned to face him, and gods, his eyes were almost as bright as the stars.

“In my experience,” she whispered, “people usually choose their own best interests, regardless of the promises they’ll break or who they might hurt.”

They descended into silence again. The waves lapped against the hull of the ship.  A soft hush… hush … hush… like a mother soothing her baby.

Maybe Percy was thinking the same thing.

“My mom always told me that when we die, our souls are carried across the River Styx by Hades’ boatman.”

“Charon.”

“Right. Charon”

“Your mother believes this still happens? It’s been thousands of years since the gods left us.”

There was a fair amount of debate among the scholars about what had happened to the afterlife in the millennia since the Usurpation, when human progress and the sciences had rendered the gods all but useless.

Some believed it still existed – just a fragment of its former glory. An eternal, crumbling, holding pen without anyone left to maintain it.

Others argued that it was long gone – that their souls simply slipped into the aether, becoming part of the world and its most base components.

Still others maintained that it, and the soul, had never truly existed in the first place; they believed that the gods had used the idea of an immortal soul as a tool of oppression.

Annabeth wasn’t sure what she believed.

“She believes that Hades never left.”

That was a surprise.

“Why?”

“Of all the things we’ve gained mastery over, Annabeth – electricity, the healing arts, the seas, and the skies, knowledge of the very essence of life and the universe — death has never, and most likely will never be one of them. Hades and his kind were never usurped, Wise Girl. So why would they be gone?”

“Because– because all the gods were — exiled.”

That’s just how it was. It was like asking why water was wet. The gods were gone. Had been gone for as long as anyone could remember.

And now, in their place, were the empire's modern gods. The Sky King who ruled the Hellas Empire from Mount Olympus, those with whom he knowingly shared his power (the Athena, the Ares, and the Apollo), and those against whom he fought to maintain his power.

Percy shrugged.

“Are we engaging in an existential debate or am I telling you a children’s story?”

She huffed but motioned impatiently for him to continue.

“So magnanimous. Thank you, Priestess. Now there’s not a whole lot that can keep you from crossing that river— not murder or stealing, not arson or fraud. The only thing that can keep you from crossing is your broken promises.”

“That’s not in any of the original myths.”

“Well, it’s in my mom’s myths, so hush. She said that, for every broken promise we left behind in life, the boat would get heavier and heavier. If someone breaks too many promises, or breaks a promise of the soul—“

“A promise of the soul?”

“You’re gonna interrupt me through the whole story then, Wise Girl?”

There was a laugh in his question, and she leveled him with her most cutting glare. One that hinted at all forms of horrible retribution.

“Alright, alright. You vicious priestess. A promise of the soul is the kind of promise that binds one person’s soul to another’s.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I love you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll come back for you.”

Annabeth’s knees stopped cooperating, and for several long seconds, she had to lean heavily into the railing.

“Oh.”

A little monster sat on her shoulder and began to whisper terrible things in her ear. Terrible, awful things about the man beside her, like how good it would feel to have him make those promises to her in earnest.

“As I was saying, if someone breaks too many promises, or breaks a promise of the soul, the boat gets too weighed down to carry them across. So they’re left behind to wander this world without rest, or hope of redemption, forever.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I think it’s justified,” Percy said, darkly. He chewed on his thumbnail for a moment, and a cloud of anger swirled across his features for a moment. “Nothing worse than being disloyal.”

There was an undercurrent of violence in his voice — a promise, a desire. Someone had betrayed him, badly. And by the look on his face, Annabeth could guess that he either had or was going to seek his revenge.

Betrayal was a sore spot for him, then. And he was raised by a woman who had told him stories about how broken promises merited some of the worst punishments of all.

It explained some things.

“Is that why you killed my guard?”

He stiffened beside her, and Annabeth could have sworn she saw his fingers clench, just briefly.

“That fucker was tasked with looking after you, and he sold you out for what, a couple of rubies and a handful of gold?”

It was tempting to give in to the soft sensation that grew from being defended by another person, even if that other person was the source of her current predicament. He hadn’t known her when he’d taken her and hadn’t owed her any of his loyalty, but he had expected the people who did to remain loyal to her.

Something sharp and insistent in her ribcage wondered what if would feel like to have earned his loyalty. What would it be like to have someone who you knew would jump into a raging storm for you?  Who would kill for you? Who you could follow into the unknown without fear or uncertainty?

Annabeth shook the thoughts out of her head. She was stronger than that, and she knew better than to trust those emotions.

“So you admit it. You did kill him.”

Percy shuffled from foot to foot for a moment. Then, decision seemingly made, he sucked on his teeth and shrugged.

“There’s a chance he’s still alive.”

“And what would your mother have to say about all this lying and violence?”

That question cleared the cloud from his features, replacing the anger with a wide, brilliant, mischievous smile.

“Who do you think taught me how to do it?”

The pride and affection in his voice made the little monster’s whispers grow more insistent. Perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she thought—— the possibility had a sobering effect. She needed to distance herself from this conversation.

So with that, Annabeth turned to go. She would sleep in her room tonight, Nico be damned. She would lock the door and keep far, far away from this man.

“Hey, Priestess?”

Percy’s hand brushed against her shoulder, bringing her to a halt. She tilted her head towards him without fully turning to look.

“Will you do something for me?”

“No.”

His sharp little laugh echoed off the water.

“Alright then, consider this an order, not a favor. Tomorrow, I need you to stay inside your room with Will.”

Now she did turn around—- struggling to keep her anger in control. Calm. Cool. Clever. Collected. Calm. Cool. Clever. Collected. Calm. Cool. Clever. Collected. If she let too much emotion show, if he let him see the hurt he’d made her feel, she would be vulnerable– exposed.

“So you are planning to punish me for what happened today.”

Her voice was strong and clear, if a little accusatory. Good. She was in control.

“Salt of the seas! Would you stop assuming the worst of me?” He snapped, clearly exasperated.

She huffed in disbelief and crossed her arms. The message, she hoped, was clear: not likely.

“We’ll be crossing into unfriendly waters tomorrow.  Chances of a conflict are high, and since you’ve refused all my offers to teach you how to fight—”

She would have to remedy that lapse in judgment. But maybe Hazel could teach her instead? That felt safer.

“—I don’t want you on deck if something does go down. I won’t be able to take care of my crew if I’m too busy worrying about your safety.”

She mulled his words over her head. Either he had some ulterior motive that Annabeth couldn’t put her finger on at the moment, or he was actually, genuinely… worried — for her .

Which of the two situations would be worse? Annabeth wasn’t sure, and she didn’t share any of her thoughts with the man beside her.

Instead, she left him with a whispered, “Yes, Captain.”

It was more uncomfortable than usual in her quarters the next day.

She and Will were confined below, and Nico, true to form, insisted on staying wherever Will was. Nico also didn’t seem to care much for Annabeth, and Annabeth wasn’t sure if that was because of her, or because he was just a generally misanthropic little cactus.

“Don’t mind him,” Will mock-whispered to her after he’d shot her a particularly prickly look. “He’s really a big softy— just looks mean on the outside.”

Nico growled something under his breath and got up to pace in front of the door.

Will looked at Annabeth with the kind of expression one accomplice might give another in the middle of their crime, and Annabeth tried not to make her smile too obvious.

“So why are we going into unfriendly waters, then?” She asked, unable to quell her curiosity any longer. “Did you all steal from a rival gang of pirates? Piss of a brothel madam in Knossos or a pit boss in Zakros?”

Nico glanced her way, a look of carefully cultivated bland annoyance on his pale and delicate features.

“Wrong direction, Priestess,” he intoned, and Annabeth let out a sardonic chuckle.

Nico raised an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

“Wrong direction?” She rolled her eyes at him. “Nice try, but it —”

Annabeth glanced out the window. Then back to Nico. Then out the window again.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized he wasn’t lying or trying to trick her — they really weren’t going around the eastern edge of Crete. They were —

Oh, by all the gods and their many bastard children.

With more strength and speed than she realized she possessed, Annabeth sprang from her chair, pushed past a very startled Nico, and sprinted up onto the top deck.

“You idiots!” She shouted as she burst out into the open air. “Utter morons! Don’t you keep up to date with inter-empirical politics?”

She spun, searching for that obnoxiously roguish face. There, behind the helm. Of course, he would be the one taking them in this direction.

He looked to be recovering from his surprise at her sudden appearance, and now his eyes were narrowing in a way that was starting to become very familiar to Annabeth. So what if she had disobeyed his orders again? She didn’t obey idiots.

“Turn this ship around!” She demanded, trying to fill her voice with every ounce of urgency and certainty she could.

Percy leaned nonchalantly over the wheel and cocked his head at her.

“No,” was all he said.

“No? No! Don’t you know anything? You’re steering us right into a —”

Ah.

She was too late.

Because there it was: the Aenean sub-surface contingent.

And it had the Argo II surrounded.

“ —trap,” she finished, too late.

Percy’s eyes flicked out onto the seemingly open ocean, following the direction of gaze until he saw what it was she was looking at: three periscopes, painted to match the ocean’s bright blue hues. And attached to each periscope, invisible and just below the waves, Annabeth knew there would be a sub-surface ship, compliments of the Athena herself.

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

Content Warning: This chapter has some sexually predatory behavior in it. If you want to skip to the end to read a summary, I'm posting one in a note at the bottom.

Also - oh my gosh, thank you for all the comments! I was feeling a little silly for posting so many chapters in such quick succession and was worried it would bother folks, but I'm glad you all like it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Annabeth supposed it could have been worse; although, at the moment, she couldn’t quite think of how.

The crew of the Argo II and her captain practically vibrated with tense anticipation as one of the ships began to surface, and they waited to be boarded.

A gangplank hit the deck with a sharp thwack and Annabeth flinched.

With one look from Percy, Jason and Frank came to stand directly in front of her, keeping her from the prying eyes of the encroaching officers, but also completely obstructing her view. She glanced around Jason’s shoulder as Piper and Percy moved towards the heavily armed Aeneans – presumably for some diplomatic maneuvering.

Jason elbowed her back behind him, and Annabeth grumbled at his back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leo slip away through the galley doors.

There was the steady ta-tap ta-tap ta-tap, of several pairs of heeled boots walking across the gangplank. Then a round of thumps as whoever had crossed onto the Argo II stepped down onto the deck.

Annabeth couldn’t decide if her heart was in her throat or in her stomach. Either way, it had migrated somewhere it was not supposed to be, and it was keeping her from being able to breathe properly.

In her limited dealings with Aeneans. She had never found them to be – well, accommodating? Sympathetic? Level headed?

Any of the above.

Although to be fair, she’d only ever actually dealt with one Aenean, and it was unlikely that he would be —-

Her hopes were interrupted by a familiar voice. “Oh, my,” cooed Praetor Octavian. “What do we have here?”

Annabeth could feel her breathing get faster and faster, but it was as if she had no control over it. Her lungs refused to listen to her demands that they slow their pace.

Calm.

Cold.

Clever.

Collected.

You will survive this.

Keep in control.

Frank seemed to sense her panic and reached his hand behind his back to grasp hers.

“It will all be alright, Annabeth. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this,” he breathed.

But clearly, they’d never encountered Octavian before.

He was a disturbed man – the kind of disturbed man whose brand of cruelty was shaped by years of unchecked, egotistical power. He was far, far more clever than most people gave him credit for, and he was obsessed with things he wanted, but couldn’t have.

Things like Annabeth.

“And I’m sure that’s all very well and good, Madam,” he was saying to Piper, “but you can’t expect me just to trust you on your word. You see, we’ve been dealing with Spartan aggressors for two months now, and these things must be handled with the utmost caution.”

Annabeth couldn’t feel her legs.

“So we will conduct a thorough inspection of the ship –”

She thought of those Arachnian silk sheets, of the stolen paintings, and Leo’s cache of illegal weapons.

“-- inspect the papers of everyone on board —”

How many of them even had proper papers? None. Decidedly none.

“--- and then we will decide how to proceed.”

Annabeth recognized the lilt in his voice that meant he was excited about the prospect of disemboweling someone, or burning something, or both.

She knew what needed to be done. If any of them were to live at all, she would have to make her presence known before the search began.

She took a fortifying breath and stepped out from around her human shields.

Then, with as much cool confidence as she could muster, she called to the licentious demagogue across the length of the ship.

“Hello, Octavian.”

His head snapped towards the sound of her voice – and the sheer glee that spread across his face sent shivers down her spine.

“You can tell your men to stand down – we’re on official business for the Athena.”

“Annabeth!” he exclaimed, and then he was moving towards her. The officers who’d come aboard with him lowered their weapons and relaxed their stances.

He crossed the floor in a few long strides, and without asking, pulled her into a too-tight hug. She saw the crew of the Argo II stiffen at the contact. Percy’s hand went to the sword at his hip, but she caught his eye and shook her head – infinitesimally.

Percy didn’t pull the sword, but he didn’t move his hand away from it, either.

When the commander finally pulled back, she forced a stoic mask onto her face.

He held her at arm's length and studied her from crown to toe – digging his fingers into her shoulders with far too much force, and Annabeth tried not to squirm like a bug pinned beneath a microscope.

His gaze lingered too long on her chest, as it almost always did.

“If you’re finished, Octavian,” she snapped, “we’ve got places to go.”

Gods, she hated this man. She hated being at his mercy even more.

“I’ve never known a Scholar Priestess to wear anything but her chiton and veil, Annabeth. So excuse me for finding the sight of you in such … plebeian clothes a little bit exciting.”

He smiled at her discomfort, digging his fingers deeper into her skin for half a heartbeat before he released his grip on her shoulders. Annabeth took a small, stiff step backwards – his eyes catalogued it, and brightened even further.

“How does a servant of the Athena find herself aboard a ship like this? Tell me, is your virtue still intact?”

Annabeth thought she might be sick.

“Or did you let one of these men take it? I bet you did – I’ve always known that deep down you were a filthy little thing. But, oh, I’m sure it was painful. Did you whimper on their cocks? C’mon, I want to hear every sordid detail.”

Being sick was no longer a just possibility – Annabeth felt the bile rising in the back of her throat.

“If you want to keep your head, you’ll reconsider the way you speak to her aboard my ship.”

She hadn’t noticed Percy come across the deck to them, but now he was standing just beside Octavian. He stepped forward, angling his shoulder between her and the grinning ghoul from her nightmares. There was murder glowing in Percy’s green eyes as he trained them on the praetor’s face.

His presence cut through the fear that had begun clouding her mind, giving her the strength she needed to regain some clarity.

Calm. Cool. Collected. Clever.

How do I get us out of this?

Before Octavian could react to Percy’s threat, something she knew would only add fuel to the fire of his sick delight, Annabeth cut in.

“I can’t really function as a spy for the Athena in my temple clothes, now can I?”

“A spy! Oh, that sounds like fun!” He clapped his hands, but his eyes remained hungry and cold, unchanged by his show of faux-congeniality.  “But why would she need a spy in my territory, hmm? And why, of all her servants, would she send you ? Her greatest disappointment, I’m told.”

Annabeth kept her face neutral, though inside, she wondered how lovely it would feel to have his blood coating her fingertips.

She saw Percy’s fingers twitch.

“Yes, well,” Annabeth didn’t have to feign the shame she felt. “I’m out of the way here. Now no one has to be reminded of my presence, and there are no foreign dignitaries for me to embarrass her in front of.”

“I suppose — but she could have just sent you aboard one of my ships. I’ve been asking her for years, you know. And I had hoped she would relent after that little slip-up you had with your thesis.”

“She always thought you were too clever to need one of her priestesses aboard your ships, Octavian. You’ve never needed our advice to win battles.”

“I never wanted you for your advice , Annabeth. You know that.”

The silence that reverberated across the deck in the wake of his implication was deafening.

She glanced at Percy, and there was a cold, calculating expression on his face. His eyes skimmed over Octavian as if he was searching for something. When his gaze shifted to Annabeth, she had a feeling he’d been deciding exactly which parts of Octavious to cut off first.

Don’t be stupid –  she tried to communicate the plea without words. He didn’t so much as blink.

Then she flashed her eyes back to Octavian, who had no doubt been watching the brief exchange.

“I am a priestess of the Athena. I will only ever share my mind with others, and nothing else. You know that.”

She cleared her throat.

“There have been reports of pirates in these seas; have you heard anything of it?”  She tried to make the question as dispassionate and brusque as possible.

“Nothing comes to mind.”

“Nothing about the Pirate King Poseidon expanding his territories? No rumors of the sons of the seven?”  Annabeth plucked the terms right from her memories of naval strategy books— terms she knew would leave any praetor at least a little unsettled.

“The seas have been quiet, dear Annabeth. Except for the Spartans and their pathetic attempts at naval expansion.”

“Then perhaps we were misled,” she muttered, trying to imbue the statement with a mix of confusion and frustration, rather than the panic she truly felt.

Piper, catching on quickly to what Annabeth was trying to accomplish, came to stand beside them. She turned the full force of her persuasive powers onto the man who held their fate in his deeply unstable hands.

“They were gathering in the ruins of Antikythera,” Piper began, all the confidence and strength of a military commander in her words. “How often do you travel those waters?”

Octavian’s face grew thoughtful.

“Not often,” he responded, with some reluctance.

Piper made a little, contemptuous sound.

“Now they’ve begun moving around the eastern side of Crete – we were told they’re looking to establish footholds in Karpathos, Rhodes, and Zakros. We were hoping, ” there was a note of imperial indignation and authoritative impatience in her voice now, “to beat them to Zakros by taking the westerly route, rather than trying to trail behind and risk being seen. But if you keep us here much longer, that won’t be possible.”

She was so convincing that even Annabeth almost believed her.

Octavian was silent as he considered them both.

“Very well,” he finally said. But Annabeth didn’t allow herself to relax. There was a glint in his eye – and Annabeth had a sudden memory of a story her father once told her, about the fox who invited the rabbit to dinner.

“You all may leave in peace, under one condition.”

Annabeth fought to keep herself steady as Octavian’s eyes landed on her. She knew exactly what his condition would be.

“You leave Annabeth with me. She’s quite valuable, you know. Worth her weight in gold. Even if she has been… devalued, somewhat.”

Oh, sometimes Annabeth hated being right.

She looked down at her feet and began to think. Think think think.

Escape routes?

The dinghy, maybe.

Not viable. She couldn’t row it through these waters on her own. Not quickly enough to escape, anyway.

She could try to run. Lock herself away in her room. But then, where would that leave her? Trapped in a new location. And it would be too easy for them to break down that door.

She would have to kill him, then. Luke’s dagger was tucked into her belt. And though she longed to, she didn’t reach to feel its now familiar weight. She would have to take Octavian by surprise. Maybe when they were on the gangplank? She would most likely be arrested by his officers and taken into custody – maybe put to death. But at least he wouldn’t be able to get his claws into her.

She refused to consider the possibility of pleading for someone else to intervene.

“Don’t let them take me, Papa! Please!”

She gritted her teeth against the memory.

Depending on others had never gotten her anywhere. She wouldn’t reduce herself to begging for anyone else’s help ever again.

Annabeth took a centering breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

Except, instead of stepping aside, Percy moved to stand fully between her and Octavian. Annabeth took a step back and watched in utter disbelief as the tip of Percy’s sword pressed viciously into Octavian’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

There was movement in her periphery as Octavian’s officers began to rush towards them, some brandishing guns, most raising swords, but—-

“Move, and I’ll slit his throat,” Percy warned in a low rasp. His body was coiled and ready for violence. He was the embodiment of calm before the storm.

One of the men took another step forward, drawing his blade. But he stopped abruptly when Percy’s sword sank all the more deeply into their commander’s pale skin, and Octavian let out a small whimper of pain.

The sound sent feral satisfaction scorching through Annabeth’s veins. In this moment, he was helpless, and she reveled in the sensation.

“I warned you what would happen if you spoke to our priestess like that. She’s not yours to take. And you’ll not show her such disrespect aboard my ship and live.”

Octavian’s fear dissipated, and Annabeth felt her momentary victory slip from her fingers as glee returned to his eyes.

“You must be the one who got her first, then.” He cocked his head, and his too-wide smile was a thing of malice. “No matter. I’ll have her last. You forget that my company can take out your ship in the blink of an eye. We’ve just gotten some new weapons from the Athena, and I’ve been dying to try them out.”

Percy tsked.

“With you and your officers already onboard? I doubt it. Besides, we don’t need more weapons than you to take out your ships. We just needed a little bit of time.”

Then he yelled over his shoulder —  “Now, Leo!”

There was a high-pitched sound — an electric sort of whine — and Annabeth realized it was the sound of Leo’s electromagnetic cannon. The sub-surface ships might be technological marvels, prime examples of Athenian ingenuity, but their complete reliance on electricity also made them the perfect victims for Leo’s newest invention.

“Your weapons will be of no use to you at the bottom of the sea,” the captain purred.

Annabeth’s breath caught in her throat – all of the people still inside those ships would be doomed to an agonizing, drawn-out death. Trapped below the water with no way out – slowly running out of air. She supposed when it was kill or be killed, there was little room for mercy. But still, it seemed like far too much blood spilled on her behalf.

Percy was stone-faced, however — entirely unbothered and utterly unrepentant.

Octavian’s entire demeanor changed the moment he realized he’d lost his upper hand. He made for his own sword, but was stopped by Frank, who trapped Octavian's arms against him with alarming ease.

“You’re still outnumbered,” he spat as he struggled fruitlessly against Frank’s hold. “I have more men aboard your boat than you have in your entire crew,”

“Do you?” Percy looked over Octavian’s shoulder, and asked, “Does he, Nico?”

Annabeth sucked in a breath — because there was Nico, standing just behind Octavian, and wiping blood from his sword with a look of near boredom on his face. As always, he seemed to come from out of nowhere – like he’d been formed out of the very shadows of the ship.

“Not anymore, Captain,” Nico replied dryly.

Annabeth moved to peer around Percy’s shoulder. All of the officers who’d once been holding guns now lay sprawled on the deck – their necks silently slit from ear to ear. She’d been so caught up in her own fear that she hadn’t even noticed her crewmate quietly disposing of Octavian’s officers, one by one, while they’d been distracted by their commander’s plight and their slowly sinking ships.

Not far off, Piper and Jason were making short work of the few remaining stragglers.

The sound of satisfaction that came out of Percy then did not belong to a human man.

A tall, lanky, boyish-looking officer with a sword tried to rush at Frank from the side – an act of utter desperation; Frank barely spared him a glance as he brought his fist up to meet the man’s face, sending him crumpling to the floor with a bone-rattling crack. The man’s body seized once and then didn’t move again.

“Right, then. Octavian, former commander of a now sunken armada. Excuse me while I leave you for a moment in the capable hands of my crew.”

Then he lowered his sword and stepped to the side, letting Hazel take his place.

“Don’t kill him until I get back,” he ordered, and Hazel – her golden eyes as sharp and deadly as the blade in her grasp, nodded.

Then he turned to Annabeth. “Come with me, Wise Girl?”

He held out his hand to her, and she took it, letting him pull her away from the stench of death that was beginning to form a thick cloud over the Argo's deck.

Octavian started to yell after her.

“Annabeth! Annabeth! You can’t just leave me here!” He howled.

Annabeth paused and looked over her shoulder at him.

She thought about how she had felt when she’d first met him as a girl. How she’d tried for days to wash off the feeling of his eyes on her.

The leering, the whispers, the ways he would accidentally brush a hand against her.

All the ways he had tried and failed to get her alone in some abandoned corner of the temple.

How her tutors had lectured her about the ways she “encouraged” his behavior by just existing . The ways they had made excuses for him – excuses they wouldn’t have ever thought to make if he’d been targeting any other priestess besides her.

But predators always know how to spot a lone sheep.

It had all gone on long enough, she decided. Whatever would happen to him now was well deserved.

So she said, with a voice that sounded much calmer than she truly felt:

“Actually, Octavian? I can.”

And she allowed herself to be led away from his echoing screams of fury.

Chapter End Notes

Our not-so-heroes encounter Octavian, commander of the sub-surface contingent and world renowned creep whose been obsessed with Annabeth for years.

He wants Annabeth, and offers to let the crew go in exchange for her. Annabeth expects them to hand her over --- an expectation that is rooted in her childhood trauma and memories of her father's abandonment. But, much to her surprise, instead of just letting Octavian take her so that they can escape, Percy refuses Octavian and steps in.

There is... much bloodshed.

________________________

For anyone wondering why Aenean, rather than Roman. Here are my thoughts:

Would Rome exist in this Greek-ruled world? Maybe not. But did Troy fall, and did Aeneas escape to found a new nation? Yes. So we don't have the great empire of Rome, and instead, we have Aeneans -- who are a part of the Hellas Empire.

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

You're all such darlings <3 Thank you and thank you and thank you!

The moment Annabeth stepped into her quarters, she was accosted by an indignant whirlwind of blond hair.

“You left! You just left! And then Nico left, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to you all and the captain told you to stay! But did you listen? No! Of course you didn’t. Because you never listen, and I love you for it but honestly, Annabeth, you’ll drive me insane one day.”

It was almost more overwhelming than the entire interaction she had just had with Octavian.

“She’s fine, Will. Everyone’s fine, thanks to her. We’ll need your expertise upstairs, though. Got some bodies to dispose of.”

Will’s face paled, and his eyes bounced back and forth between Annabeth and Percy, no doubt checking them for injuries. Then, one strangled word escaped his mouth:

“Nico?”

“Is probably going to be in a mood for the rest of the day. Might need some company,” Percy hedged.

Will didn’t have to be told twice.

“I’ll go get my bone saw,” he muttered and swept out the door.

She was alone with Percy again, and it seemed both of them were at a loss for words, because for a long moment, neither one of them spoke.

Annabeth made her way towards the desk and sank down into the chair behind it. There, she thought. A little bit of a barrier.

“That man –” he finally began, but Annabeth interrupted him.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

Percy nodded and let out a soft “alright,” but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity as they moved questioningly across her face.

Under the warmth of his gaze, all of the false bravado she’d wrapped around herself up above suddenly drained out of Annabeth; she slumped over the desk and cradled her head in the palms of her hands.

It was too much.

“I would like to be alone, Percy,” she whispered.

“Can I say a few things first? Then I’ll leave.”

Annabeth nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Thank you for what you did. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to warn us.”

Hubris gets the better of us all, sometimes, she thought. But she didn’t say anything.

“When you’re feeling up to it, I want to go over the course we've charted with you. So that we can avoid this kind of thing in the future.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

She was holding on by a thread. She needed him gone.

“I also want you to start your training tonight. Doesn’t have to be with me, but I’ll not have you unable to defend yourself anymore.”

A tear dripped from her nose onto a sheaf of papers below. It splattered against the ink, turning what was once the word beginning into an incomprehensible mess.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She was once again, as always, an inconvenience.

“Don’t–” he took a step closer, and she flinched. He stilled. “Annabeth –”

There was a sharp intake of breath. Her own? His? She wasn’t sure. Her name on his lips was revelatory.

“Don’t apologize. You’re a member of my crew now, and we take care of our own. That’s never something you need to apologize for. You just… also deserve to be able to defend yourself, too.”

Another tear. This time it splattered against the word impossible.

“Annabeth, look at me?”

Just like the last time, her eyes obeyed him without waiting for her say-so. There was a question in the furrowed lines of his brow and a promise in the ferocity of his expression.

She quickly wiped away her tears, a combination of rage and embarrassment over her display of weakness filling her in a sudden, violent wave.

I will take the justice I am owed.

“I want you to kill him, Percy. And I want him to suffer.” Her voice was a cold shard of metal -- brittle and sharp.

His eyes widened, just briefly, and then a pleased smile curled at the corners of his mouth, and he dipped his chin.

“Do you want to watch?” He asked – just like that. No qualms; no questions. She wanted justice, and he would see it done.

Did she want to watch? She wasn’t sure. On the one hand, it would feel so, so good. Revenge would be sweet on her tongue, wouldn’t it?

On the other … she didn’t want to have to listen to him anymore, not even if it was to his screams of pain. Didn’t want to have to see him anymore, even if he was writhing in agony.

She shook her head. She would trust her captain to take vengeance on her behalf.

“Alright. He’s going to face the end of my blade when I get back up there,” his voice was calm, reassuring. “And by the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be more sorry for what he’s done to you than anything else he’s ever done in his life.”

She jerked her head – one quick nod. Relief and gratitude coursed through her at his easy acceptance of her request, soothing both the sting of her shame and the fury that had accompanied it.

“Thank you.”

The hand at his side clenched, then released, then clenched again. He looked for a moment like he was debating whether or not to say anything else. Then he squared his shoulders.

“So long as you’re mine to look after, I will never let anyone or anything hurt you like that ever again.”

Her heart snagged on the word “mine” as it slipped out from between his lips.

He means that in the sense that you’re part of his crew, she tried to tell that thumping, traitorous muscle in her chest.

But the stupid thing didn’t believe her.

In the cool haze of dusk, Hazel and Piper began to work her through some basics of hand-to-hand combat and fighting with daggers.

The deck had been cleaned of almost all traces of blood, and the bodies of Octavian and his crew had been thoroughly disposed of.

It was almost as if their unfortunate encounter hadn’t even happened. And Annabeth allowed herself to tuck the ordeal into the far corner of her mind. To be dealt with… later. At some point. Just not now.

She was surprised to find that she enjoyed training, especially considering how brutal and exacting her two teachers were. By the end of the hour, she was run ragged – more exhausted than she had ever been before – but she was also happy.

As the three of them sat to guzzle from the water skein, hunched and panting and dripping with sweat, Annabeth felt both a sense of accomplishment and a sense of belonging.

“You’re a natural!” Hazel praised, beaming at her. “You’ll be formidable in no time, Annabeth.”

“It’s like you were born to fight with that dagger,” Piper added.

Silently, internally, Annabeth agreed. They hadn’t let her try using it against them (for good reason), but it felt right as she’d slashed and stabbed at her imaginary opponents – like an extension of her arm.

“I’m surprised that you all don’t learn how to fight as part of your priestess training,” Piper continued – her tone thoughtful. “Wasn’t Athena the goddess of wisdom and warcraft?”

Annabeth grimaced.

“They used to,” she acknowledged. “It went out of fashion about a hundred and fifteen years ago, though.”

Her audience waited in anticipatory silence for her to continue.

“There was a rebellion among the sisters. After the instigators were caught, and anyone even tangentially associated with the movement was disposed of, and they phased out the practice of combat training. It’s much easier to subdue people who don’t know how to fight.”

“Yikes,” Hazel mumbled. “And I thought we were brutal.”

Piper studied Annabeth in that unnervingly sharp-eyed way she had of looking at people. Annabeth glanced away from her too-perceptive gaze.

“How old were you when you chose to join?” She finally asked.

Piper’s question cut to the quick of things.

How much should she tell them? How much would she be brave enough to share?

She looked at the two women – at their open and caring expressions –  and decided she would be honest. Let herself be vulnerable. Just a little bit.

She trained her eyes on her fingers.

“I didn’t … choose. I was surrendered over to them the night of my seventh birthday. Against my will.”

Her confession was met with silence. When she looked up again, Hazel and Piper both wore horrified expressions on their faces.

“Is that – I mean, is that customary?” Hazel asked, and the question was tinged with revulsion.

“No. Most don’t join until they’re about twelve or so. That’s when our schooling starts, anyways. And it’s usually at least somewhat consensual. ”

“So the priestesses raised you?”

“Yes. It was a difficult upbringing.”  To put it mildly.

She watched as the implication behind her words sunk in for both of them.

“Did you ever try to leave?” Piper asked. There was no trace of judgment in her tone – just genuine curiosity.

Annabeth could hardly explain to them what she had never been able to explain to herself. This was a wound that never healed correctly – was still throbbing and itching beneath the surface of her skin.

She thought about how, with an improperly healed injury, it was sometimes necessary to reopen the infected area in order to clean it thoroughly. Only then could it begin to mend itself in earnest.

She took a deep breath.

“I tried a few times. The punishments eventually got so bad that I stopped trying, though. And then — then I thought maybe if I proved how good I could be, they would be kinder to me, and I wouldn’t have to try running away anymore. Eventually … I don’t know. You live in something for so long, it becomes what you’re used to. You forget that there is another way to be – you begin to believe everything they tell you about yourself. You lose — you lose the ability to see yourself as anything else besides the thing they made you to be. As someone capable of living outside those walls.”

It took Annabeth a moment to register the fact that there were tears running freely down her cheeks.

Gods, it had been decades since she’d last cried – and now, in the space of less than two weeks, she’d done it at least four times.

You’re reopening the wound, a little voice in the back of her mind said. Something was bound to come out.

A hand reached out and took hold of one of hers – then a second hand grasped the other. Piper held her left hand and Hazel her right, and Annabeth squeezed their fingers tightly in her own.

Their warm touch communicated what none of them needed to say aloud:

You are not alone.

Later that night, She sat in the starlight, under the flickering glow of the little sun-powered lamps, with Jason and Percy.

It had all the trappings of a peaceful evening. Or, rather, it would have, if she and Percy could only agree on a single thing.

“— have you ever even met a Sardinian? No. No, absolutely not.”

“Look, it’s the only place that it could be. He says —“

“I know what he says, Annabeth. But his instructions make no sense. Why send us so far south only to make us travel northwest immediately after, and then send us right back south again?”

“All I know is that when it comes to quests, the order in which things happen matters. Quests are not about how fast you can get to where you’re going, they’re about proving yourself worthy of the destination.”

“I don’t think —”

“Which one of us here is the historian and mythology specialist, Seaweed Brain?”

“...”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

“ You are. There. Happy now?”

“Very.”

“Do you two need to be left alone for a minute?” Jason sounded entirely too amused for Annabeth’s liking.

She huffed and crossed her arms defensively, refusing to so much as look at the irritating little smirk she just knew was pulling at the corner of Percy’s lips.

Still not looking at them, she said, “Listen, I know the stories of Odysseus like I know my own mind. I’ve studied every debunked theory and analyzed every failed expedition ever written about the path to the doors of death. And you know what they all have in common? They all tried to take the most direct route, or the easiest route, instead of the correct route. So both of you are just going to have to accept the fact that I’m right about this, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Jason replied.

Percy was silent for a beat too long, and Annabeth raised her chin to glare at him with the appropriate amount of scorn.

But he didn’t look like he wanted to argue with her – there was admiration in the way he smiled at her.

“What?” she snapped.

His smile grew wider.

“Nothing, oh wise one. We’ll do as you command.”

She scoffed.

“Then I command you to stop being such a—- such a — a — an ass all the time, and just gods damn listen to me when I tell you to do things.”

Jason began to chuckle, and Percy quickly joined in. Their laughter spiraled out of control until the two of them were bent double, both breathless and wiping tears from under their eyes.

“Oh my gods, she sounds just like –”

“I know, she’s exactly –”

Annabeth didn’t know who they were talking about or what could possibly have been so funny, but something in the way they grinned at one another told her it wasn’t something to get overly upset about.

It took a moment for them to regain their composure.

“Oh, man,” Jason said to her, still chuckling. “His mom is going to love you.”

She turned to look at the man seated next to her – realizing, as she did, just how close they were to one another. She could see the hints of blue in his mostly green eyes. She could see the smattering of freckles along his tanned cheeks. The lines at the corners of his eyes – a testament to all the time he spent smiling under the sea-bright sunlight. The inky-black strands of soft hair that swept along his jaw.

She could count all the piercings in the cartilage of his ears – alternating silver and gold rings – three on the left and four on the right.

“I don’t do well with mothers,” she muttered, stupidly, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.

There was something soft in the lines of his face, something tender in his gaze, something warm in the curve of his lips as he looked at her.

“Don’t worry, Wise Girl. She’ll love you,” he murmured, tilting his head to the side as he studied her through half-lidded eyes. “How could she not?”

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the lack of updates this weekend! I'm in the process of moving and was sans internet for a few days. You're all so lovely and wonderful <3 <3

They reached the southern tip of Crete the next afternoon and weighed anchor off the coast a secluded bay. Annabeth, Percy, Piper, and Grover left to gather (steal) supplies before the journey. Annabeth had initially protested -- why did she need to be included in their piracy? But Percy had insisted that they needed a few “trustworthy looking folks,” to be able to successfully get away with “acquiring” supplies.

And she felt that maybe she owed them -- for not handing her over to Octavian, for defending her, for delivering justice on her behalf. So she had loaned Piper one of her chitons and had gotten into the dinghy beside the three of them without any more complaints.

Once again, Annabeth was forced to watch as Percy rowed them all to shore, the muscles of his chest and arms shifting as he worked.

And what was worse? This time Piper was there to witness the blood that rushed to Annabeth's cheeks, the way she struggled to drag her eyes away from the sight of Percy straining against the pull of the oars.

Piper’s eyes met Annabeth’s and she grinned, making Annabeth tip over the edge of flustered and into the deep waters of abject humiliation.

When they pulled ashore, Annabeth and Grover went to find dry provisions, Percy went to find new tools for Leo, and Piper went to procure “the good stuff.”

Grover was excellent company, and, much to Annabeth’s surprise, very good at thievery. She supposed she had fallen for his general demeanor of kindness and wide-eyed innocence. Beneath that though, it turned out he was just as devious as the rest of them.

And she was so fascinated by this newfound part of his character that she didn’t even think to protest as he outlined the plan to her.

As it just so happens, the easiest way to steal several sacks of dried goods from a grocer?

Overrun his store with stray dogs and cats, and then, when he begins to have a meltdown because " they won’t stop coming" and " how are they still getting in ," simply take what you want and slip out the back with no one the wiser.

They repeated the process at two different stores. It took them a total of 10 minutes to get everything they needed and more.

“Who taught you how to do that?”

Annabeth asked Grover as they hauled sacks of rice, dried beans, and salt back to the dinghy.

“I’ve always been good with animals. All Satyrs are. But Percy’s mom, Sally, taught me the value of a good diversion when I was just a kid.”

Oh.

“So you’ve known each other for a long time?”

“Mmm. Since we were twelve. Sally and Percy found me on the streets. I was looking for the lost god Pan—-“

“Pan? Why?”

“Because I believed— believe— he’s out there somewhere. But I didn’t realize how hard finding him was going to be when I ran away from home.”

Annabeth doubted it, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

“Then they found you?”

“Yep. Took me aboard the Blue Lady, taught me just about everything I know.”

The Blue Lady – Annabeth thought of the tattoos on Percy’s fingers.

“And the others? Did Percy and Sally rescue them, too?”

Grover chuckled and then shrugged.

“Just about, yes. There’s a reason why we’d all travel to the ends of the earth for Percy and Sally.”

So all of them had been rescued by Percy and his mother? And then something had happened to her. Something bad enough that it warranted a trip to the Doors of Death.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the wanted sign with her face on it.

Almost.

“Grover…” she began, a note of fear in her voice. “Look at this.”

He came and stood beside her, peering at the corkboard covered in posters and signs of various sizes, shapes, colors, and purposes.  There – at the center of it all – was her face.

“Wanted in connection to a theft from the 18th Athena. Scholar Priestess Annabeth of Athens. Must be kept alive for questioning. Reward: 10,000 Drachma.”

They were both silent for a minute. Trying to understand.

“Holy Hades,” Annabeth breathed.

“Get back to the dingy,” Grover commanded, clearly beginning to panic.

“Grover, the supplies –”

“I’ll take care of the supplies. You get back to the dinghy and hide. Go, Annabeth!”

She didn’t have to be told twice. She dropped the bag of rice in her arms and sprinted as fast as she could, weaving through the crowd with the same light-footed deftness that allowed her to scamper along the Argo’s masts.

Is this what Octavian had meant when he’d said she was worth her weight in gold? But then, he must have known from the moment he saw her that she wasn’t working for the Athena. Had he just been… toying with them?

She reached the dinghy in just a few minutes, and she slid across the sand to duck behind the side of it – where she would be hidden from view.

There she waited – her chest squeezing and her heart pounding. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes.

She kept imagining scenarios where Grover was dragged away and tortured for information about her; worse were the ones where the three of them decided she wasn’t worth the trouble, but that turning her in was worth the drachma.

With each passing second, it became harder to breathe.

Until finally, she heard Percy’s voice drawing near.

She peeked her head up over the dinghy, and was hit by a wave of relief when she saw all three of her friends hurrying towards her  – and no Cretian officials in sight.

Percy got to her first, dropping down by her side, letting his acquisitions fall into the sand, and reaching out both hands to cup her face.

“Are you alright? Annabeth? Are you okay?”

Her stomach swooped at the concern in his gaze. At the sound of her name on his lips.

“F-fine.”

“No one saw you?”

“I’m not sure –”

“Where’s your knife? Do you have it on you?”

“Y-yes, I always –”

“Good girl. You should be keeping it on you at all times, okay?”

Annabeth couldn't have responded if she'd wanted to, because those two little words were reverberating through her entire body.

Oh, gods. Oh, gods.

What was that feeling?

What was happening to her?

His hand repeatedly brushed her hair away from her face, and the rough calluses of his fingers brushed circles against her temples.

She felt as if she might melt beneath his touch.

Actually, there was no might about it. She was falling into the bright green of his eyes, and for several heartbeats, he let her.

Then he pushed himself up and held out a hand to help her to her feet.

“C’mon, up you get,” he said, hauling her to her feet before nudging her into the dinghy. “Now I want you to lie down–”

He pressed his palm against her shoulder, and she sank to her knees under the pressure of his touch.

“ – there, just like that. That’s a good girl.”

Was he doing this to her on purpose ?

And why did she want to hear him say that again?

“Just keep your head low for me while I get us back to the Argo II.”

Annabeth had never felt so simultaneously helpless and hopeful in her entire existence. It was a dichotomy that she neither understood nor wanted.

While Percy rowed them all back to the safety of their ship, Annabeth kept her eyes shut tight and her fists clenched at her sides. She maintained her focus on her own breathing and did not — did not — listen to the sounds Percy made as he rowed with such force that they made it back to the ship in half the time it had taken them to reach the shore.

And, above all else, she absolutely, resolutely, utterly refused to make any eye contact with Piper.

Once back on the Argo, Percy turned to her, his eyes full of concern.

“Are you alright, Annabeth?”

Was she alright? No. Not really. She wanted to go hide away from his bright green gaze and pretend it didn’t have any effect on her.

“I’m fine—-.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Sorry? For what? For not turning her in? For being loyal to her? Concerned for her?  For flustering her to no end with all his, his … everything?

“—I’m sure you’ll be able to get back into the Scholar City—“

Oh.

That’s what he was sorry for. Because the wanted poster meant she couldn’t go home anymore. Meant she was a fugitive from her own home.

“They think I stole the journal because it disappeared the same night you took me.”

Her voice came out breathy and detached.

“Looking back,” Percy began, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. “The lack of ransom note might have been a bad idea.”

“Don’t forget about where you left the guard’s body—" Percy shut Leo up with an elbow to the ribs.

“The Athena thinks I stole from her.”

Annabeth couldn’t feel her fingers. Where were her fingers?  She sat down heavily on the deck.

“When we get to the doors, Hades will be able to help you set things right. Okay?” Percy was crouched in front of her— panic, guilt, and concern all swirling in his expression. “It can be your favor from him. You’ll be able to go back.”

She couldn't fully register what he was saying, though. Couldn't think of anything beyond the fact that she was now most likely considered an enemy of the Athena.

“Oh gods, I’m a fugitive. I’m — I'm a wanted fugitive.”

Suddenly Hazel was sitting beside her, taking Annabeth’s hands in hers.

(There were her fingers. Still where they’d always been.)

“You know what that means, Priestess?” Hazel asked, decidedly too excited for Annabeth’s current state.

“No.”

“That means it’s time for a drink.”

Annabeth had never had alcohol before. Even the most watery wines were considered a forbidden indulgence for all but the highest-ranking Scholar Priestesses.

What had Socrates said? Something about how wine “lulls the cares of the mind to rest" and "revives our joys."

If I’m already in the pit, might as well make it a party, she thought.

“Alright. Give me something sweet, please.”

Hazel beamed at her, and Percy blinked. Piper pulled some bottles of rum and honey wine from her bag, and Grover ran to grab tin cups from the galley, unwilling to let them drink from the bottle "like those pasty northern barbarians."

When Grover returned, Jason and Frank filled up everyone’s cups, bringing one of each to Annabeth for her to try.

She took one sip of the rum and immediately regretted it; coughing and spluttering, she handed the cursed stuff over to Hazel, who took it happily.

The honey wine, however, was lovely—sweet and spiced.

“Oh, this is nice. Thank you.”

“You’re really one of us now, Annabeth.”

Hazel sounded happy about the prospect. And, as Annabeth looked around at the crew surrounding her, she wondered if maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Twenty minutes (and two generous helpings of honey wine) later, Annabeth found that she really was feeling much better about the whole situation.

It helped that the alcohol made her— made the whole world—- feel soft and warm. That, paired with a low buzz of happy, inebriated conversations, was enough to give Annabeth a sense of peace.

Grover began playing a set of pan flutes— a celebratory, up-tempo reel, and Frank immediately came to pull Hazel into a dance.

The golden-eyed girl feigned reluctance for a brief moment, before tossing her head back and laughing as her partner spun her around and around.

Annabeth watched them hungrily, full to bursting with envy for the easy affection between them. The physical touch. The intimate smiles. The soft kisses Frank peppered along Hazel’s cheeks.

When Percy took Hazel’s spot next to her, the envy only intensified.

“Would you like a bit more wine?”

She nodded and held out her tin cup to him. He uncorked a new bottle with his teeth — why did that make her stomach clench? — and filled her cup to the top.

She had to take three large sips before she was able to look over at him; when she did, she found his bright green eyes trained intently on her face.

“What do you think it’s like?” She asked.

“What do I think what’s like?” His voice was low and raspy. It sent shivers down her spine.

“That.”

She pointed towards Hazel and Frank with her chin.

“Love?” The word sounded so foreign to her ears. It was something holy, something far away and untouchable.

“Yes.”

“When it’s mutual… I imagine it’s a little bit like breathing fresh air. Or maybe sitting in a warm chair by a fire. Or like seeing the stars for the first time.”

“And when it’s not?”

“Pretty much the same, but your lungs hurt, and the fire is behind a window you can’t open, and the stars are only just barely visible through all the light pollution. Still beautiful, just… out of reach.”

There was something mournful in his tone that made her want to cry.

Who was he pining for, then? Some brave and daring rival pirate, most likely. An enemy, perhaps. Annabeth was sure they would be wry and quick and confident. She could picture their dark hair billowing in the wind as they steered their ship out into the unknown.

In other words? They were most likely everything Annabeth was not.

She took several more sips of the wine. It was disappearing too quickly; she’d need more soon.

“I think I’d like to be in love one day.”

Never mind. She did not need more wine. Her tongue was getting too loose already.

“I thought Scholar Priestesses weren’t allowed?”

“They’re not.”

He hummed — a soft, contemplative sound. Then Percy stood abruptly and wiped his hands on his thighs before holding out a palm to her.

“C’mon, Wise Girl. Dance with me.”

She shook her head vigorously— real and true panic taking hold of her.

“I’ve never danced! I might be awful at it.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t worry. You can’t be any worse than me,” he chuckled.

“He’s not lying!” Will called over to them. “It’s literally not humanly possible to be worse than Percy is at dancing.”

He shot a glare over his shoulder and sent Will a vulgar gesture that he returned with great enthusiasm and a broad grin, making her laugh.

Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was Percy’s utter lack of self-consciousness, but something brave and giddy took hold of Annabeth, and she reached for his palm.

He pulled her first to her feet, then into the circle of his arms. So broad and strong and warm and safe. She pressed her nose to his collar and inhaled (very discreetly, she was sure). The hum of satisfaction he made probably had nothing to do with the way her cheek nuzzled against him as she did so.

Probably.

“That’s right,” he murmured into her ear. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

She might have sighed in contentment. Just a little.

But it was a bit of a blur.

As it turned out, Will hadn’t been lying about Percy's lack of skill. He probably couldn’t have found the rhythm even if it smacked him between the eyes.  And by the end of their dance, her poor toes were sore from the abuse of his two left feet. But oh gods, she was as happy as she had ever been— her cheeks hurt from smiling and her ribs hurt from laughing.

Then Will stole her away, insisting he would “save her poor feet from the bad, bad pirate.”

Then she danced with Hazel and Piper, then Leo, and then Will again. And then, when Grover insisted he only had one more song left in him, Percy pulled her into his arms again for one last stumble around the deck.

“Annabeth?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do we know exactly how time works?”

“Not really. We think that it's relative. We know it passes. Mostly we just have some theories, but nothing concrete.”

“Why?”

“Because…well, I think it’s just one of those things that’s inherently unknowable. Nothing we can really do but experience it.”

He looked at her with dark and unreadable eyes. But before he could say anything else, a huge, heavy raindrop hit the side of her face. Followed by another. Then another.

Percy frowned up at the sky.

“Is it—?” Panic rose in her gut at the memory of the last storm they’d faced.

“Nah, honey. Just a little rain. The winds are still low, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t bother arguing. Especially because a part of her wanted to stay up here with him a little longer.

Later, after she’d showered and gotten ready for bed, there was a knock at her door. When she opened it, the hallway was empty, save for a book left just outside.

A note attached to it read:

“ A favorite of mine for your curious mind. — Piper ”

The cover was relatively plain — a dark, cloth-bound hardcover. The title, however, caught her eye: The Pirate King’s Lover.

Annabeth read the whole thing in one night.

And in the early hours of the morning, even as she cursed her stupidity and her lack of self-control, Annabeth slipped her hands down her body and bit at her lower lip to try and keep quiet, thinking of the way Percy’s voice sounded as it wrapped around the word “honey.”

Chapter 10

Chapter Summary

Begin at the south point of Crete.

Keep south – two days, two nights,

Until the waves move backwards

Wait where the blue blooms bright

Then greet the lady of the sea

and give her proper sacrifice.

In the day since they’d left the south of Crete, Annabeth kept herself as busy as possible. She spent every second of her time either training with Piper and Hazel, or working in the kitchen with Grover, or making medicines with Will.

And, once again, she took to avoiding Percy like the plague. But even as she tried her hardest to ignore his presence, her body was constantly hyper-aware of exactly where he was. It didn’t help matters that some undeniable part of her wanted to be wherever he was.

It was too much. It was all too much.

And Annabeth couldn’t decide whether she was furious or relieved that he seemed utterly unaware of the effect he had on her.

She was busy keeping a lookout in the bird's nest and pretending not to watch Percy, when she saw it – an aberration in the waves.

“Stop! Stop the ship!” She called down – nearly bursting out of her skin with excitement. “We’re here!”

“Weigh anchor!” Percy ordered.

The ship began to slow, then finally came to a stop, and Annabeth scrambled down the rigging like a spider in a web.

She ran to the prow – climbing up onto the bowsprit, one hand on the jib to keep herself from falling – and stared.

“There!” she exclaimed and pointed to the spot where the aberration was. “See it?”

She turned to find Will hovering like a worried mother hen just behind her. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes at him.

“Look!” She demanded, and he did.

“What exactly is it that we’re looking for, Annabeth?” Frank asked, from where he was trimming the mainsail.

“See how the waves in that one spot don’t match?”

“I see it, Wise Girl,” Percy said, climbing out to join her out on the bowsprit. She felt a tug at her waistband and glanced down to see that he’d tucked two fingers into one of her belt loops, as if to secure her to his side.

She quickly pretended not to have noticed it at all.

“Now what do we do?” Frank asked as he leaned over the gunwale to get a closer look. He was soon joined by Hazel and Nico.

“Now we wait,” Annabeth replied.

“For what?”

“No idea. Something. ”

They waited. And waited some more. And waited some more. Minutes passed, then hours, and soon Annabeth and Percy were the only ones left waiting and watching.

For the second time, she found herself alone with him under the hazy, pearlescent light of the moon, and she had to fight the urge to lean into the warmth of his body the same way she had while they were dancing. She could smell him. Sea air and clean leather.

She wondered what it would feel like to rub her fingers against the stubble of his jaw.

She wondered if the honeysuckle tattoo along the ridge of his collar tasted as sweet as it looked.

“Right! Well, I suppose this was a fluke, then. Not much to see. So I’ll just—“

“Look,” he said softly, interrupting whatever pathetic excuse for running away she was about to stumble through.

And Annabeth went stock still —  because there, where the light of the moon hit the waves, the ocean was beginning to glow… and then bubble. The water parted as something rose out from its depths — the ruins of some ancient temple.

The moonlight was bright enough that Annabeth could read the inscription carved into the stone slab across its roof:

The Temple of Brizo, Our Lady of the Sea

For a moment, Annabeth forgot where she was sitting, and, in her hurry to get closer nearly fell off the bowsprit. She would have, too, had it not been for Percy’s hold on her.

“Slow down, Wise Girl. Or else I’ll end up having to go in after you.”

She ignored him (mostly), and scrambled over his lap to get back onto the prow. His hands went to her hips as she climbed over him – steadying her with gentle pressure. The little monster on her shoulder wanted her to move more slowly so she could savor the feel of it.

She also ignored the little monster and all but tumbled onto the deck, Percy landing gracefully beside her.

“Get them all up here! Now!” She huffed, trying to sound irritated and impatient rather than flustered.

“Yes, Priestess.”

There was something indulgent in the way he was looking at her. She hastily turned away from his gaze.

Moments later, the entire crew of the Argo II was leaning over the gunwale alongside Annabeth to get a better look at the temple.

“Alright everyone, I don’t know how long the temple will stay above the water, so we need to do this quickly. Odysseus says we need to make sacrifices –”

Grover let out a little whimper.

“-- not animal sacrifices, Grover. Just offerings. My theory is that we need to offer Brizo something personal, something important to us. Bring something that will be difficult to part with.”

A few members of the crew looked doubtful, even outright reluctant.

“I… don’t know, Annabeth,” Will said. “The gods are long gone, and I’ve never even heard of a goddess named Brizo. What good will it do us to give up something of value before we even get to the Doors?”

Annabeth stood at her full height, put her hands on her hips, and allowed every ounce of indignation she felt to make itself known.

“Are we or are we not going on a quest to find the Doors of Death?”

There were a few half-hearted mumbles.

“Our priestess asked you a question, you louts!” Percy snapped.

Now there was a chorus of clear and emphatic yeses.

“Thank you. If we’re doing this, then we’re doing this. You either believe or you don’t. There’s no halfway with mythology. Now if you want to make it to the Doors, you all had best go get something of personal value and get back here before that temple disappears again, or so help me I’ll make you regret it.”

Speech made, she stalked towards the captain’s quarters to retrieve her sacrifice.

“And somebody bring a lighter!” She threw the command over her shoulder as she disappeared below deck.

It wasn’t long before she found herself studiously ignoring Percy as he sat at the oars of the dinghy once more. Beside them, Frank rowed the second smaller lifeboat, which carried Will, Nico, Hazel, and Grover.

She’d been ready to clamber into the second dinghy when Percy had taken her by the elbow and steered her alongside him, and Annabeth had found herself becoming pliant under the silent order in his touch.

When they reached the temple, Annabeth was the first to disembark. She hurried ahead, so enthralled by the temple that she was entirely uncaring of whether or not her crewmates followed behind. She took in the architecture – the style of the roof suggested early Minoan Age, but the pillars were pure Archaic Period. Unfortunately, much of it seemed to be crumbling from age, wear, and neglect.

She ran her hands along the carvings that littered the slightly slimy stone walls. Images of ships, of fishermen, of storms — stories told through images, and the occasional name or phrase.

Blessed goddess…

The Aurelia was…

Pray for our…

Protect us from…

The further inside she traveled, the harder the images were to decipher, until finally, she reached a section where the walls were entirely smooth – devoid of any carvings whatsoever — whatever had been carved into these stones had long ago been smoothed away by the currents of the sea.

She was brought to a halt by a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Percy’s half-amused, half-disapproving expression as he gazed down at her.

“In the future, Wise Girl, please don’t go sprinting off into mysterious temples without the rest of us.”

Annabeth gave him an apologetic look but then shrugged. She didn’t actually feel an iota of guilt over diving headfirst into this treasure trove of historical information. She tried to make herself sound much more confident than she felt when she said, “Next time, you should just try harder to keep up.”

From behind them, there was the sound of several people trying – and failing – to smother their laughter.  She grinned and then continued to forge ahead.

“How old is this place?”

“Few thousand years, maybe? But look. See? It’s been repaired several times.”

“How is it still…“ his voice trailed off.

“Old magic. Old, long-forgotten, magic.”

There was an awed sort of hush that traveled through her companions at the prospect.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a vial to collect samples with. But … the idea of taking something from these walls felt strangely sacrilegious.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the central altar – situated just below a statue of a woman who she assumed was supposed to be the goddess Brizo. But the minor details of the statue were so worn away that she could only just make out the shape of her body, her neck, her head, and her hair.

Annabeth felt a little awkward as she stepped forward to the altar. She’d read about the process of a proper sacrifice many times, but reading about it and doing it were two entirely different things.

She sought out Percy in the dim, bluish light of the temple; when her anxious eyes found his reassuring gaze, he gave her a soft, encouraging smile, and brought up his chin as if to say “go on.”

Annabeth took in a breath and tilted her head up to look into what had once been the face of the statue.

“Lady Brizo,” she said, trying to project a combination of certainty and humility as she spoke. “Goddess of –”

She faltered for a moment, considered the carvings on the walls, then made an educated guess.

“Goddess of mariners, seafarers, and safe passage through the ocean, we come to you bearing sacrifices—”

Did she seem like a fraud to everyone else? Or was it just her?

“To ask for your blessing and protection as we embark on our quest to find the Doors of Death.”

An ocean breeze brushed against her cheek, and Annabeth could swear she heard the whisper of a woman’s voice. Goosebumps rose on her arms and the back of her neck.

She took a step towards the altar and reverently placed her book of poetry on top.

“Goddess, in return for your blessing, I sacrifice to you this book, which contains within it a piece of my childhood and my father’s love.”

The breeze returned, warm and comforting as it caressed her cheeks, her hair, her arms. Annabeth figured that whatever spirit remained in this temple, whether it was really the last remnants of Brizo or not, had approved of her gift.

She stepped back, faced her companions, and jerked her head towards the altar to indicate it was their turn.

Percy stepped forward next, confident and unhesitating.

“Goddess, in return for your blessing, I sacrifice to you my last jar of blue candy.”

Had his voice not been so serious, Annabeth might have lost her temper at the offering. But something about the reluctance with which he placed the jar on the altar, and the expressions of shock on everyone’s faces, told her to remain quiet.

He stepped back, and Grover moved to his side, putting a hand on Percy’s shoulder.

“It won’t be the last jar forever, Percy,” Grover whispered, and their captain nodded.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Then, one by one, each member of their crew stepped forward to place their sacrifices on the altar.

“Goddess, in return for your blessing, I sacrifice to you my most treasured copy of the Medika Corpus –”

“ – my mother’s wrench –”

“ — my lucky firewood —”

“ — my mother’s golden locket — ”

“ — my best pan pipes —”

“ — my eagle feather —”

“ — my father’s sigil —”

Annabeth felt her heart stutter when she noticed the symbol on Jason’s sacrifice – a lightning bolt. The symbol of…

She shuddered.

So that’s how Percy had stolen all those paintings.

“ – my sister’s ring –”

After each item was placed on the altar, the wind flowing through the temple grew a bit warmer – a bit stronger. The smell of salt sea air carried away the dank and humid scent of wet decay that had permeated the temple when they’d first entered.

Annabeth moved to the altar again, and began to wreath the sacrifices in dried hay and sweet herbs, singing softly as she did so, a song her father had taught her as a child.

May I return home to my love, oh my love

Just let me return to her arms.

Her crewmates were silent as she worked, carefully arranging the rest of their offerings so that they reflected the reverence a goddess might have expected in the days before the Usurpation.

When she was finished, she turned and held out her palm.

“A lighter, please?” she murmured. Nico gently placed a silver object into her hands. “Thank you.”

She turned and brought a flicker of flames to the dried hay – it caught quickly, in spite of the damp air and wet altar. The fire blazed, and a familiar hand curled around Annabeth’s waist and pulled her back against a warm, solid chest.

The offerings began to catch, and all of them, even the ones made of metal and glass, went up in flames.

The smoke that filled the space smelled unexpectedly sweet. It didn’t burn her eyes or her throat the way wood fires usually did. There was a sound like laughter, intermingled with the crackling of flames — laughter that was joyful and effervescent. And, in the bright light that filled the once-dark temple, Annabeth could have sworn she saw a smile appear on the faceless marble statue that loomed above them. And the tears —

She couldn’t possibly be imagining the tears that were streaming down from where the statue’s eyes should be.

They stayed until there was nothing left on the altar but ash and embers, and Annabeth brought the ritual to a close with a final prayer.

“Thank you, Goddess, Lady of the Sea, for accepting our gifts. May your generosity always be remembered and your name long revered.”

Then she bowed low before the statue and waited for her friends to do the same before she began the walk back to their boats.

Just in time , she thought, as she noticed water beginning to puddle in the corners of the hallway that led to the entrance. It wouldn’t be long until this temple disappeared back beneath the waves.  They hurried down the hallway and out the doors, stepping carefully into the boats just as the soles of their shoes started to dampen with salt water.

The trip back to the boat was hushed; there was a general sense of awe and incredulity that wrapped itself around all ten of them. In a world without magic, what the crew of the Argo II had just experienced felt like a miracle.

They were silent as they hauled themselves back onto the ship, silent as they watched the temple slip back beneath the waves, and silent as everyone but Percy and Annabeth retreated to their quarters.

He stood beside her at the prow of the ship, one hand reaching out to take hold of her trembling fingers.

A part of her – a very large part of her – hadn’t truly believed anything would happen. She’d been expecting the fire to peter out before it so much as touched their offerings. Maybe it would be accurate to say that a small part of her had even been hoping that nothing would happen.

She hadn’t wanted to look through her book before she’d put it on the altar, and now she never would again.

“Five years ago,” Percy said, “through some twist of fate or maybe just a bit of luck, I happened to be in the Parthenon on the day of your thesis presentation. I didn’t realize what was happening, had just been swept in by the crowd. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stick around.”

Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath. He had told her some of this already – but this time it hurt more to know that he had been there to witness the second worst day of her entire life.

“I’d almost left, you know, by the time it was your turn. All of the presentations before yours had been so unimaginably boring that I was about a second away from starting a fire under someone’s chiton just to make things a little more interesting.”

The image of Percy – in his weather-worn clothes and his glinting earrings, his devilish tattoos and even more devilish smile – bored to tears amidst all the pomp and stiffness of the Parthenon made her laugh.

“But then you stepped forward, and you talked about your theory that the Doors of Death were real, and you explained that all you needed to do was find Odysseus’s lost journal.”

It had all been going so well up until that point, too. She hadn’t stumbled over her words or forgotten to say anything important; her voice had been clear and calm; she’d felt good.

“You were beautiful up there – fierce, and fiery, and intimidatingly brilliant. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And there was something about you that reminded me of my mother.”

Warmth spread from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes; Annabeth felt light – buoyant – in a way she’d never felt before.

“And I was already making plans for how I would find ways to talk to you. You would go on your tour of the empire with the rest of your cohort, and I would use that to find a way to … I don’t know, beg for your attention.”

“I wouldn’t have paid you any notice, Seaweed Brain.”

“Yeah, right. You keep telling yourself that, Wise Girl.”

He flipped over her hand and began tracing the veins on her wrist with his index finger.

Goosebumps rose along her arm.

“Then that woman had the audacity to just wave you away. And all that fire drained out of you right before my eyes.”

Annabeth closed her eyes against the memory. She tried to focus on the feeling of his fingers rather than the flood of anxiety.

“That night, I stole your book –”

So that’s where it had disappeared to.

“— and I read it. I mean, I hate reading. I’ve hated it my whole life, but I read it. Actually, I read it three times, because it was brilliant. You’re brilliant.”

A whimper escaped from her throat – propelled by some twisted combination of grief and wanting.  He turned his face towards her at the sound, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

“I keep seeing flashes of that fire, Wise Girl,” he murmured, his eyes not leaving hers. “I see it when you scramble along the masts. I see it when you yell at me, or scold my crew, or train with Hazel and Piper. I saw it tonight. And I just think… maybe it’s a sign that you belong with – with us . ”

“Percy, I–”

“Just think about it, alright? When this is all over. When we’ve found the Doors and gotten what we need… you could stay. If you wanted. For however long you want.”

She nodded, looking away from the bright green gems that made it impossible for her to think.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

She couldn’t stand to stay next to him, but she couldn’t make herself leave either.

Just a little longer, the monster on her shoulder begged. Just let us stay out here with him for a little while longer.

She was overcome with a desperate desire to be close to him – not physically close, necessarily, although there was that, too – but emotionally and intellectually.

She had been given crumbs, just slivers of his life, but she was greedy enough to want the whole of him.  And she was weak enough to ask for it.

So she kept her eyes pointed down towards the sea as she said, “What was your sacrifice?”

“The candies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well it was either them or Riptide, and I figure we need Riptide a bit more.”

She lifted her eyes for a moment to give him a brief, quizzical look.

“Riptide is the name of my sword. All good blades need a name. Once you make your first real cut, we’ll give yours a name too.”

Her first real cut? Percy had much more faith in her ability to actually use her dagger than she did.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He rubbed his knuckles against the edge of his jaw for a moment before he spoke.

“The candies were gifts from my mother.” There was a beat of silence as he considered his next words. “She and I used to leave them for one another when one of us was having a hard time. They were our little secret code – a reminder that life could be sweet, so long as we had each other.”

“Why all blue?”

He huffed out an affectionate laugh.

“Blue was— is her favorite color – and mine, too. For so much of our lives, we weren’t allowed to do whatever we wanted. And then, when we were finally free and safe, suddenly, everything was always blue. Blue food, blue clothes, blue candy. Even her ship.”

“Her ship ? She painted her ship blue?”

Percy grinned and shook his head.

“Nah, that would’ve been a waste of good paint. But she did name her ship the Blue Lady.”

He flexed his fingers, drawing Annabeth’s attention to the letters tattooed across his knuckles: Blue Lady.

Annabeth wanted to ask about where she was and what had happened to her – to the Blue Lady, but she refrained. It seemed like too much of an intrusion, even for someone as greedy as she was.

“What about you?” Percy asked, after a beat of silence. “What was the book?”

See? Here was the danger of wanting to know more about him: he wanted more of her in return. And, what was worse, she wanted him to know her, too.

“A book of poems – it belonged to my father when he was a child. It has - had -  all kinds of annotations from him; things he wrote when he was a kid, notes he left for me the day I was born. He named me after a poem from that book, used to read it to me over and over again when I was little.”

“How does it go?”

Annabeth debated for a moment before she recited it to him. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face the whole time.

“You miss him.”

She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks.

“Very much.”

“But?”

“But I haven’t forgiven him for sending me away, and I doubt I ever will.”

She could see the inscription he had written on the front cover of the book as if it was still right there in front of her:

To my little owl,

I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise, but now we can both have a better life.

It will be easier this way.

Dream big. Learn everything. Make your mother proud.

All my love,

Papa

Percy threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed; she squeezed his right back.

“You don’t have to forgive the people who hurt you, Annabeth,” he whispered. There was something mournful in the slant of his lips.

“Like you?”

He winced, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret saying the words.

“Like me, Wise Girl.”

“I didn’t – I mean I don’t —”

She stared down at their joined fingers and tried to parse through what she was hoping to convey to him.

“I don’t feel quite so hurt anymore.”

“I’m sorry, though – that I hurt you. That I scared you. It was selfish of me, and wrong. And I tried to justify it with all of my excuses to myself about how you would be safe with us. How you deserved an adventure, deserved to find your dreams. And how I deserved to find my mother. But those excuses were just a way to give myself leeway to do the wrong thing. And I’m so, so sorry Annabeth.”

“Okay.” She believed him, and she appreciated his apology. “Thank you.”

She didn’t say I forgive you, though, and he noticed.

His eyes searched her face for a moment, and then he gave her a small, approving smile.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and a thrill shot through Annabeth’s whole body. She bit her lip to keep from making a horribly embarrassing sound.

A light sparked in his gaze, and the smile on his face turned roguish – it was the same expression she’d seen the other night when they’d discussed bad ideas.

Oh, he knew.

He knew what that did to her.

And she knew that he knew.

And maybe he knew that she knew that he knew.

Gods, what a mess.

“Go get some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Annabeth didn’t need to be told twice; she took the escape route he’d offered and fled without a backwards glance. Except, when she got back to her room, she didn’t fall asleep.

No. Instead, she reread The Pirate King’s Lover.

Twice.

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

1. CW for an anxiety attack

2. I hope you all know how much your comments make me smile, even when I'm too busy to reply because I'm trying to figure out my shit. You're all the best and the most funny and the most lovely readers anyone could ever wish for.

She was late to breakfast the next morning. When she finally emerged, bleary-eyed and unkempt, she found herself interrupting the tail end of a story.

“— and if it wasn’t that god's damned princeling—“ Percy was saying.

“I resent that!” Jason interrupted.

“—paintings in hand, panting like a puppy dog, and stumbling like a frightened deckhand during his first storm.”

They laughed, Piper patted and embarrassed Jason on his back, while the man in question groaned and dropped his head in his hands.

His crew’s reaction was that of an audience who had heard the story before but had nevertheless asked to hear it again.

And because somehow he always knew when she was nearby, Percy’s eyes found her the moment she stepped out onto the deck. He beckoned her over, and her feet moved towards him before she could make any kind of conscious decision.

She took a seat beside Grover, who handed her a tin plate piled high with breakfast.

“What did I miss?” She asked, half anxious, half curious.

Hazel beamed at her, and Annabeth realized that this might be the first time since she came aboard that she’d actively tried to involve herself in the crew’s mealtime conversations. Usually, she just scampered up the rigging with her mouth full of bread.

“We’re sharing our most cut-throat moments!”

“—you mean our most embarrassing moments,” Jason interrupted with a groan.

“She means our most impressive moments!” Will piped up. “Do you want to hear mine? It involves almost having to amputate Percy’s arm.”

He looked so excited that Annabeth couldn’t help but nod enthusiastically. She loved a bit of good medical drama as much as the next person— maybe more.

“We’ve heard that one a few times already, Will,” said Percy, still not taking his eyes off of Annabeth. He leaned on his forearms, tilting his whole torso towards her. “What about you, Wise Girl? Got a story for us?”

His eyes were curious and intense – and the warmth of his attention made her long to tell every one of her secrets just to keep his focus for a little while longer.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, giving in to temptation, she thought to herself. But then she promptly smothered the thought beneath several layers of don’t be an idiot, and tore her eyes from his.

“We’re going to need a plan for Scylla and Charybdis.”

A smooth transition, truly. Well done, Annabeth.

Jason let out a snort. “Right, Annabeth. Very funny.”

She looked at him without a trace of humor on her face. “I’m not kidding, Jason.”

He narrowed his gaze at her. “I thought our whole plan was to avoid Scylla and Charybdis.”

At no point in their myriad discussions had Annabeth ever said anything about avoiding Scylla and Charybdis. In fact, she’d said exactly the opposite – multiple times.

“Did you not listen to a word I said the other night?”

“I thought you were being facetious. Nobody sails through Scylla and Charybdis, Annabeth! Nobody!”

Piper jumped in before Annabeth could respond with an appropriately scathing retort. Because had he learned nothing from her recent monologues on the nature of quests? Odysseus’s instructions specifically stated that they needed to test their mettle against Scylla and Charybdis, so that is what they would have to do.

Honestly, you would think these pirates had never seen a sea monster before.

(Maybe she was being unfair. There were no sea monsters quite like the six-headed, canine-festooned, heart-stoppingly huge Scylla and her even more terrifying, giant gaping mouth of a neighbor.)

“Why don’t we just do whatever Odysseus did?”

It took Annabeth a moment to respond. She looked around at the circle of faces, waiting for someone, anyone to explain why that was a bad idea. Finally, sorely disappointed, she told Piper, “That’s not going to cut it, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Annabeth leveled them all with a look that she hoped spoke volumes about their embarrassing lack of knowledge.

“Because Odysseus let half of his men get eaten by Scylla in order to get past them.” She let her tone convey the unsaid: obviously.

There was a moment of deafening silence. Then Percy let out a low hiss.

“What?” His question cracked like a whip through the air.

Annabeth threw up her hands in frustration. “You all should know this already! It’s not in the sanitized versions of the story that we tell kids, but yes. Odysseus distracted the monsters by making lowest ranking members of his crew bait.”

“That’s… horrible,” Frank whispered, looking a little bit like he might be sick.

“I mean… yes? Odysseus was kind of a horrible person. He murdered a lot of his enemies, usually in really brutal ways. He was just as clever as he was cruel, though. Why do you think Athena liked him so much?”

Annabeth knew she sounded like an annoying little know-it-all at the moment, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could not believe they had kidnapped her so that they could avoid doing a little bit of extra research.

(Again, she was being unfair. But in her defense, this was ridiculous.)

“There’s a huge difference,” Percy growled, a truly terrifying glint in his eyes, “between murdering your enemies and betraying your crew.”

She watched as his hands closed into trembling fists, looking as if he wanted to punch through the very fabric of time and pul Odysseus through it by his hair just so he could throttle the man himself.

Annabeth’s first instinct was to condemn his statement.

Murder is murder, Percy! The most moralistic part of her wanted to snap.

But then again, she supposed she wasn’t really in a position to judge, was she? At least, not anymore. Not after she had asked him to kill Octavian for her.

She was finding that, even though it was a little bit crooked, she actually...

Well, she admired Percy’s moral compass. There was something to be said for the fact that his true north was defined entirely by the people he was loyal to.

Plenty of people in this world were nice. Plenty of them were pleasant. Plenty more were regal or noble or magnanimous. They would hem and haw and hypothesize about how to do the most good for the most needy, or which laws were needed to maintain a strict sense of order  – but they were almost always still driven by a desire to help themselves before others.

Their rot was well hidden beneath all those layers of empty saccharine sweetness and heavy clouds of self-righteousness. And because of that, their rot grew – hidden from the light and air that would stop the spread.

But these pirates? Who stole without a qualm; who murdered without hesitation; who swore and fought and made crude double entendres and read dirty novels?

Well, their flaws were at the surface, weren’t they? Their crimes were carried out under the bright light of day. So the rot couldn’t grow — couldn’t eat at their souls, because they never pretended to be good in ways they were not.

Percy had killed Octavian for her.

More than that, he had been happy to do it. Glad she had asked, even. She’d been prepared to feel ashamed of the request, but to Percy, her crueler instincts weren’t something to be ashamed of. They just were.

It was liberating, to say the least.

“Well,” sighed Annabeth. “Regardless of whatever those differences might be, we still need to have an actual plan.”

“What if we sail by Charybdis? Avoid Scylla?” Asked Piper.

“If she’s dormant, then we might not die. But if she wakes up, there’s absolutely no chance any of us will survive.”

“Fabulous,” Leo grumbled.

All eyes turned to Percy, who seemed to be deep in thought. He looked around the ship; then stood and began to pace— back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually, his pacing slowed and then came to a stop.

“Okay…” He began and then trailed off. He was silent for a few beats.

“Okay, so we’re not risking all our lives by sailing around Charybdis. And we’re not letting half—"

“Six, so more than half.”

“—More than half of my crew get eaten.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We kill Scylla.”

Grover looked aghast. “You can’t kill her! She’s an endangered species! And it’s not her fault she’s a man-eating monster!” He cried, at the same time that Annabeth said:

“You can’t kill her! She’s thousands of years old and an important historical landmark!”

While Nico said: “I’m pretty sure she’s unkillable, Percy, or it would have already been done.”

And Leo said: “That sounds like a good time to me!”

“Okay, okay,” Hazel interrupted the cacophony with a low, soothing tone. “So maybe we can’t kill Scylla, but is she totally invulnerable?”

Everyone turned to look at Annabeth.

“Not invulnerable. She’s been killed before, by Heracles… she just was brought back to life by her father.”

“So we should kill her! She’ll spend a few days in the underworld, and then she’ll come right back,” said Leo, already rubbing his hands together. No doubt he had some brilliant idea for a new, Scylla-killing weapon.

“No! I mean, maybe. As a last resort. But what part of ‘brought back to life by her father’ do you not understand? We don’t know which god he was, but he was definitely a god.”

“Oh," said Hazel. "So if we do kill her, that might be it. No more godly father to bring her back from the dead.”

“Exactly. There goes another important remnant of life before the Usurpation. But I doubt any weapon we have would do serious damage, anyways. Even your harpoon – ”

She jerked her head towards the big metal machine at the prow.

“ –would just be like a splinter.”

“Okay, but what if we aren’t trying to kill her?” Hazel continued, her voice tinged with excitement. “What if we just use her?”

Hazel looked over to Frank and lifted her eyebrows, grinning like a madwoman. The look sent a sense of foreboding crawling down Annabeth’s spine.

“You remember how to play whip-around, my love?”

Frank’s answering smile was a bit too wide, and, much to Annabeth’s concern, quite clearly apprehensive.

She had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to enjoy this plan.

Annabeth definitely wasn’t going to enjoy this plan. And, much to the dismay of her two friends/trainers, it was all she could think about as they ran her through drills.

“Again,” demanded Hazel. “I don’t know where your head is at, Annabeth, but you need to get it back here.”

Her head was currently imagining the game of whip-around. Which was something Hazel and Frank used to play as children, apparently.

It was a game that involved running down a long marble hallway in socks, hooking a hand around a column without slowing down, and using your forward momentum to whip-around the column and send yourself shooting back in the other direction.

And they wanted to use a game of whip-around to get past Scylla and Charybdis, with Scylla playing the part of a sturdy marble column, and Charybdis playing the part of… nope, still a gaping mouth that could suck them all into an eternal vortex of watery death.

In theory, tethering themselves to Scylla with a harpoon would keep them from being sucked into Charybdis, and they could use their momentum to propel the Argo around the curved gap and out the other side.

In theory.

Still, how was she supposed to do anything but think about everything that could possibly go wrong and come up with contingency plans A - Ω?

She struck out at the target again. Left forearm. Right elbow. Blade. Step back. Kick. Duck. Up. Step forward. Elbow. Blade. But it was—

“— sloppy,” Piper growled. “Again.”

The word set off a flare in the back of her mind. It pulled her back – back – to her desk at school. Her handwriting; her weaving; her embroidery; her equations; her sketches – had all, at one point or another, been criticized using that word.

She repeated the combination. Again. And again. And again. But it still didn’t get any better.  Her breathing sped up, and her thoughts finally, finally stopped focusing on the whip-around, only to turn in on herself.

Annabeth bent double, her forearms on her thighs, trying to collect both her breath and her thoughts, to no avail. But the more she tried to real them in, the more they began to spiral out of control.

Stupid.

Failure.

Know-nothing.

Disappointment.

Can’t even do a single thing right, can you?

You’ll be lucky if they don’t decide to just leave you in Sicily.

Suddenly there was a warm hand on her back, rubbing in soft, soothing circles. Percy was crouched beside her, his eyes crinkled with worry and trained on her face.

His lips were moving.

He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

She watched as his gaze flicked over towards Piper and Hazel and he said something to them – an order, most likely, given the set of his jaw.

A moment later, there was a water pouch being pressed into his hand, just below her face. The hand on her back stopped rubbing and began to tug at the hem of her shirt.

“Down,” his lips were saying. “Sit down.”

She obeyed – sloppily, again. Everything she did today was sloppy.

He pressed the pouch to her lips, and Annabeth took a small sip. The water was cool and clean. It tasted a little of leather, but that was a flavor she’d gotten used to over these past few weeks. She focused on the feel and the taste of it on her tongue, on the smell and feel of the ropes hanging by her head, on the sea breeze cooling her cheeks.

The pounding in her ears began to grow fainter.

“— that’s it, sweetheart,” Percy was murmuring. “Just do as I say; that’s right. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.”

Something about the tenor of his commands made the pounding start right back up again. But this time it didn’t drown out his voice, only heightened it. Annabeth wondered if that made things better or worse.

“Good girl –”

Worse, definitely worse.

“- doing so well –”

Except she was able to breathe again, wasn’t she? His words were loosening something in her chest.  Her thoughts were still biting at the edges of her mind, but they were less sharp, now. It was as if he’d wrapped her consciousness in a soft blanket, effectively muffling those horrible howling, feral things.

There was a hand rubbing the back of her neck – providing firm pressure against her aching muscles – and Annabeth found herself melting into the touch. There was something about it that made her feel secure – tethered – her edges stopped fraying, held place by her captain’s grip.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, she was able to get control over her breathing again.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

She expected to feel embarrassed, but there was only relief. Shame would come later; something she knew from experience.  When she was alone and trying to fall asleep, the wolves would descend again. For now, though, she would allow herself to relax into the respite his touch provided.

“Anytime. Tell me what’s going on in your body right now, Wise Girl.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, but obeyed nevertheless.

“My lungs feel like they’ve shrunk down. My fingers are tingling. My heart is going too fast. My throat is all tight. Your hand feels good, though.”

That last sentence slipped out without her express permission.

“Yeah?” He gripped a little tighter, and Annabeth melted a little further. “Still good?”

The lump in her chest shrunk, and she nodded.

“Why?”

“Pressure. Feels good.”  It was more than that, but she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the way his hand on her skin made her feel safe. The sort of soft, hazy thrall his voice and his touch put her under.

The hand on the back of her neck left, and Annabeth let out a mournful little noise of protest.

Slowly, cautiously, Percy moved so that he was sitting behind her, his legs splayed out on either side. The insides of his thighs pressed tightly against her hips; his left arm banded around the front of her chest, tucking her into the crook of his elbow and squeezing; his right hand went around the front of her neck and providing just light pressure - barely there, but enough that it maintained the effect.

“Now?”

Annabeth let out a contented sigh and let herself sag into him.

“Words, Annabeth. I asked you a question.”

“Feels good,” she mumbled.

“Okay. Now tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Oh, gods. She did not want to do that. The jumble of her thoughts was much less terrifying now than it had been just a few moments ago, but it was also still an out-and-out mess.

The monster on her shoulder was gleeful – drunk on both Percy’s closeness and the way he was handling her. It had thrown the rational part of her mind overboard. A mutiny of godly proportions.

Annabeth’s head lolled back on Percy’s shoulder, and she took in a deep inhale. She wanted to bask in his smell.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” he rumbled into her ear.

“I’m not sure –”

“Just try your best.”

She huffed, and in response, the hand at her throat tightened, just a little, then released. Her heart lept – something deep in the core of her being was screaming at her to obey.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt such a strong desire to please someone else. Even all the times she had tried to get her tutors’ approval or the Athena’s recognition, it was nothing like this.

With them, the drive was part pride and part survival instinct. With Percy, though, it was a need.

The words came spilling out of her, tumbling, one after the other, like boulders careening down a steep hill.

“I can’t focus on fighting because I need to have our contingency plans figured out for tomorrow. Because I need to have a strategy figured out for anything that might go wrong. If we get caught unawares it will be my fault. And so I’m sloppy, and I’m training poorly because my mind is too stupid to be able to do both things at once. And I’m probably leading us into certain death. And maybe we should just go around, because what if I’m wrong, and the order doesn’t matter? Are we all just hinging our lives on something I said? Why should you all listen to me? I’m a know-nothing, a disappointment -- sloppy. Failure. Stupid. I —”

Her rant cut off as the hand at her neck tightened again, then released. Then tightened, then released. It happened several more times – rhythmic and gentle. Never pressing too hard or for too long.

Annabeth felt the frenzy in her mind subside with each repetition. When Percy stopped, she felt calm again. The panic had receded enough for her to pinpoint what had pushed her over the edge.

“I don’t like the word ‘sloppy,’ I think. Brings back bad memories.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I'll make sure you don't have to hear it again.”

The endearment sent something coursing through Annabeth’s veins. She vaguely remembered he had called her that, earlier, but it hadn’t registered then. Now it did, though, along with the painful tenderness in his voice.  He wasn’t just calling her sweetheart out of some kind of casual habit — he sounded as if he meant it.

Annabeth needed to get out of here; she began to squirm in his grasp, half-heartedly trying to disentangle herself from the emotional quagmire she’d just waded into.

His hold around her tightened, and she let out a noise of frustration.

“Shhh, honey. You’re going to stay right here until I can feel that your pulse is nice and slow and steady under my fingers, and until I’ve said my piece. Is that understood?”

She sank back into him, relieved to have an excuse to stay in the safety of his arms, and nodded.

“First of all, no one is following you into certain death. We’ve made the decision together because we think you’re probably right. Especially considering what we all saw in the temple of Brizo.”

That… made sense. She had been right about Brizo. It stood to reason she would be right about Scylla and Charybdis.

“Second of all, everyone has their off days. Even you. You’ve only just started to learn how to fight with your dagger, and you’ve already blown past all of our expectations. Really. You’re going to be striking fear into the hearts of men and disemboweling your enemies in no time, Wise Girl. Just have patience.”

Warmth spread through Annabeth at his reassurance, and she fought the desire to preen a little bit. Was it odd that the possibility of eviscerating her enemies made her this excited? Maybe. But she knew her crew and captain wouldn’t mind in the least.

“Lastly, and Annabeth look at me when I tell you this –”

She did. His eyes were so bright and so fierce that her breath caught in her throat.

“–you ever call yourself stupid again, and I’ll have you scrubbing out latrines until we reach the Doors of Death.”

The look on his face was so serious that Annabeth knew he meant every word of that (very effective) threat. For whatever reason, though, it didn’t bother her.

Quite the opposite, actually.

“Okay,” she murmured.

“Nuh-uh. I want to hear you say ‘yes, Captain.’”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

There it was again: the thrill. The spark of joy that came when he gave her just a taste of his approval, a smidgen of praise. Did their interactions affect him the same way they affected her? Surely, they must. But maybe this was just how he was with every member of his crew.

The idea made her green with unearned jealousy.

Gods, she was stu—

Pathetic.

She was pathetic.

Apparently satisfied, Percy heaved himself up before reaching out a hand to help Annabeth to her feet. She took it, and then looked around, noticing with equal parts gratitude and embarrassment that the deck was almost completely empty, save for Jason – standing behind the helm and pointedly not looking in their direction.

“I’m going to …” she motioned up towards the bird’s nest. She needed a little bit of space and perspective to help fully clear her mind. Or maybe she just needed to be a little bit far away from everything for a moment, until the flames racing through her bloodstream had time to cool down.

He nodded, understanding flashing across his features. “Keep an eye on the Northwest, would you? That's where the squalls will be coming from — if there are any.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Was that a shiver that just went through him? Maybe.

Stop it. You’re acting like a dog at dinner.

Before she could embarrass herself further, she climbed up to where she could sit with her thoughts – alone.

Yet even in her isolated little perch, high above the ship and the sea, the warmth of Percy’s hands lingered – holding her tight, anchoring her when she felt as if she was coming undone at the seams.

And Annabeth somehow felt less alone than she ever had in her entire life.

Chapter 12

Chapter Summary

Then go towards the holy lands

Where Hades met his Queen.

Sail between the great rock gap,

to froth and foam of certain death.

Where you must test your mettle first,

Or sink beneath the sea.

Chapter Notes

The move is officially done, and I finally have internet again! So we will be back to our regularly scheduled frantic and furious posting pace. As the goblin in my head wills it.

I've written about 24 chapters of this fic so far, so please don't worry that I'll leave it unfinished. I will have to update the chapter count, because the smut has started to really get away from me. Is there such thing as too much smut? I don't think so.

Because you've all been so lovely, I'll probably post two chapters for you tonight.

Three days.

Three days until they’d reach Scylla and Charybdis, and Annabeth was spending every available moment preparing. There was no time to be embarrassed about her display on the deck because she never stopped for long enough to think about it.

She’d calculated the best speed and trajectory for their approach with Jason, built up their stocks of healing supplies with Will, oiled and tuned every available weapon on board with Leo, and spent hours helping Frank and Hazel fortify the weakest parts of the ship.

She wouldn’t let any opportunity to keep herself and her crew safe slip through her fingertips.

And maybe if it kept her traitorous mind from wandering into uncharted waters, that was just an added bonus. Because she wasn’t supposed to be having those thoughts, anyways.

Just because she was no longer in the Scholar City didn’t mean she could forget her vows.

She had sworn herself to the life of a maiden. The Athena had collected Annabeth’s blood in the sacred chalice of the Parthenon, and Annabeth had made an inviolable oath to bind her life to the eternal glory of knowledge and not the fleeting joys of passion. And she had not wavered from that vow even once in the 12 years since she’d made it.

But she couldn’t keep from interacting with him—- not when he was always there . Watching her training sessions. Making sure she’d put on sun balm. Giving her fresh water. Checking her hands for blisters with his calloused, gentle fingers.

Looking after her.

Smiling at her.

And then there were the questions. Always the questions, which always made her forget her plans to avoid him, pulling her into conversations that lasted far longer than they should have.

“Wise girl?” A little tug on her hair to get her attention that made her stomach clench. A sly smile from him as he registered the effect it had. “Could there be a way to design a ship that flies?”

A calloused finger at the soft skin of her inner elbow. Goosebumps that he most definitely noticed. “Do you think there’s life beyond the endless sea?”

For the most part, she’d managed to hold fast against the ridiculous tangle of feelings that twisted and crawled in her chest. But her defenses were momentarily breached when she was accosted by a pair of horrible miscreants with nefarious plans.

“So,” Piper said, her arms crossed and an expectant look painted on her face. “You want the captain.”

Annabeth could only splutter.

“Don’t try to hide it, Annabeth.”  Will was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke. “You’ve got it bad. And by it, I mean raging, pulsating carnal desire.”

“ William!” Annabeth whisper-shrieked, frantically looking around to make sure that nobody else was within earshot. “I don’t it – that would be wrong! I’m not - I can’t – it isn’t allowed!”

She searched desperately for an escape route; if she could just make a run for it…

“Allowed by whom?” Piper asked.

“The temple!”

Will cocked his head at her.

“The temple that’s put a bounty out on your head? That temple?”

Annabeth had no argument against his disbelief. Did her vow mean anything anymore? The punishment for breaking it had long been a source of nightmares for Annabeth. But she was already a fugitive, wasn’t she? What was one more crime against the Athena?

Then again, thieves were never buried alive. And she hadn’t actually stolen anything; they just thought she had. Allowing herself to act on her desires would mean actively forsaking the temple, well and truly turning her back on everything it stood for.

“There’s nothing wrong with physical desire,” Piper’s tone was kind. “You’ve been made to believe that it’s dirty and impure, but it’s not. He lights you up, Annabeth. Everyone can see it. And you light him up, too.”

“I don’t know…” what to do with that information.

“You don’t have to know anything right now,” said Will. “Just, if you decide you need to talk to someone, you can talk to one of us.”

She gave them a stilted, hesitant nod.

“Also, here.” He handed over a small stack of books, which Annabeth took gratefully. Books, she could handle. Yes. Books were good; books were comfortable and didn’t expect you to be able to respond immediately to the questions and ideas they posed.

She looked at the titles.

An Inclusive Introduction to Eros

Sex, Pleasure, and You: A Beautiful Journey of Discovery

There’s Nothing Wrong With You: How to Overcome Society’s Oppressive Attitudes Towards Desire

“And here.”

Piper added two more books to the stack.

The Maiden’s Voyage

Priestess, Pirate, Lover, Spy

Well, then.

She thanked her friends, not able to fully look them in the eye lest they see the hunger in her gaze, and hurried away.

To… study.

Annabeth was sitting at the desk, bent over a mess of maps and equations and trying to rub away the pain gathering behind her eyes,  when there was a knock at her door.

“Mmmmm,” she called, too tired to make any real words.

The door opened, and Percy stepped into the room. Annabeth spared him a brief glance before looking back to the papers in front of her.

“What do you need, Captain?” She asked, not looking up. She wouldn’t look at his face, because that led to thinking about his face. And his mouth. And his tongue.

(She hadn’t realized until she’d started reading Piper’s books just how many things a tongue could do .)

Her careful avoidance of all the things she found distracting about Percy was ruined, however, when he leaned onto the desk—- both of his hands splayed out over her papers. His hands. His fingers . They might even be worse for her peace of mind than his mouth.

Her neck suddenly felt very bare, and too exposed and…maybe in need of a warm touch.

“I need you to take a break,” he replied. “You’re going to be of no use to us tomorrow if you’re too exhausted to think.”

She pursed her lips and did not respond.

“I’m serious, Wise Girl.” One of those damned hands flipped over and curled in a tantalizing invitation. “Please? You’re tired and you’re stressed.”

Her stomach rumbled, and Percy gave her a pointed look.

“When was the last time you ate?”

She’d forgotten to get breakfast that morning. And she’d skipped dinner in favor of going over the charts again…

Annabeth sighed.

“Fine,” she mumbled and put her ink-stained hand into Percy’s waiting one, letting him tug her to her feet.

His hand was warm and dry; she didn’t want to let it go.

She immediately let it go.

“You’re not alone in this, you know,” he said as he opened the door. “And if something goes wrong, it’s on me, not you.”

Annabeth had to make some careful maneuvers so as not to brush up against him as she went out into the hallway.

“Because you’re my captain?” She didn’t try to hide the skepticism in her tone.

The hallway was narrow, and his body was large and close. His smell washed over her—- Annabeth tried to inhale it as discreetly as possible.

“Yes,” he said –  like it was as simple as all that. “Anything that happens on my ship is my responsibility. Anything that happens to my crew is my responsibility.

It must be a heavy burden to bear. She wondered if the weight of it was ever difficult for him to carry.

“That’s… noble of you.”

He snorted as he held open the door to the deck for her.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me noble before.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Their crew was gathered under the mainmast, eating something that smelled divine .

She practically moaned as the scent of butter, honey, and spices wafted over to her. It was a ridiculous noise, but it had slipped out before she could stop it.

“What is that smell? ”

“Honey cakes.”

The oddly strained quality of Percy's voice made her turn and look up into his face, only to find that was watching her as if she was the honey cake.

“Grover makes them when he’s anxious.”

Annabeth didn’t need any convincing to move towards the safety of the assembled crew. Grover offered her two of the small cakes; she took both, eating the first in one bite.

“This is amazing,” she mumbled around the sticky, sweet confection. “The best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Grover’s cheeks pinked, and he swelled with pride, smiling broadly as he watched her shove the second cake into her mouth.

“I’ve got lavender, lemon, and cardamom flavored.”

He held out the plate. She took a third. Cardamom . This must be what ambrosia had tasted like.

Percy handed her a cup filled with some dark liquid. She eyed it warily, then looked up at him.

“It’s a dry red. Not too sweet. Goes nicely with the cakes.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.

“At least, that’s what Will told me to say.”

Annabeth accepted the cup and took a tentative sip, finding that Will was right— the combination was lovely. She licked at her bottom lip, and Percy’s eyes flicked down, watching intently as she caught a stray drop.

She quickly took another, deeper sip, only to feel his hands close around hers and pull the cup from her lips.

“Slow down, sweetheart. You haven’t eaten enough today, which we will talk about later —-“

Warmth flooded through her.

“— But that’ll go right to your head if you drink it too quickly.”

“I don’t think that my eating habits fall under the umbrella of your responsibilities, Captain.”

Annabeth turned and took another large gulp just to spite him, watching from the corner of her eye as he crossed his arms over his chest. Which was just entirely unfair, because the gesture made his muscles look so… prominent .

“Maybe not my responsibilities as your captain, but how about as your friend?”

Oh, why did that send a pang of hurt through her? Being a friend was good. Safe. But friends didn’t do the sorts of things described in Piper’s books.

Did they?

And did she even actually want to do those things? Or did she just want to fantasize about them and then shove all of her feelings into the deepest recesses of her mind?

That second option seemed like the healthiest choice.

“My… friend?”

Oh, come on, Annabeth . Don’t sound so pathetic.

“Sure. You know, I feel like we’ve gotten on friendly terms. I think you’re wonderful, you think I’m sort of tolerable…”

She tried not to smile and had to hide the expression by taking yet another sip of wine.

“Tolerable might be a bit of a stretch,” she teased, which made him laugh.

The sound of it did not make her knees go weak.

At all.

Percy hooked his foot around the leg of a low stool and pulled it to her, then indicated she should sit with a tilt of his head.

She plopped down on it, gratefully and inelegantly, and he folded himself down onto the floor beside her. One leg bent and tucked into the crook of his arm, the other stretched out in front of them.

Gods, he had long legs. Long and lean and muscled, just like the rest of him.

She needed to think about something else. Anything else.

“Does being your friend mean I don’t get to make plans to poison you anymore?”

He gave her a wry look.

“And what exactly do you know about poisoning people, Priestess?”

She grinned.

“Plenty.”

“This sounds suspiciously like the makings of a good story!” Will called from across the circle.

Several pairs of eyes turned to her. And Annabeth hesitated for only as long as it took to gulp down more wine before capitulating.

Oh, Hades. What could it hurt?

It’s not like the crew of the Argo would judge her for the ways she tried to exact justice in an unjust world.

She looked into her nearly empty cup as she spoke.

“When I was young… maybe thirteen? Fourteen? There was this one temple sister of mine whom I loathed —”

“Oh boy! Loathing!” Leo grinned, rubbing his hands together.

“ —She was just a spiteful, cruel girl. She was always getting me in trouble –  pulling my hair to make me yelp during quiet study hours, spreading rumors that turned the rest of our cohort against me —”

“That slimy little — oof!”

Percy had elbowed Leo in the ribs without moving his eyes from her face.

“ — Anyways, it all came to a head near the end of our second year of schooling. We were supposed to present these final projects, you see. The culmination of two years of studying. Either we would move on to the next stage, or we would be sent to remedial tutoring.”

And remedial tutoring meant being unable to progress within the temple system – ever. She would have become a library assistant, damned to a life of fetching books and cleaning up after the others. No prestige. No accolades. No recognition.

“And I was stupid. And lonely. So when she apologized for everything she had done and suddenly started being nice to me, I believed her.”

“Oh, no,” Hazel whispered.

“For weeks, she pretended to be my friend, and we would compare notes for our final projects, or study together in my chambers. Then on the day of our presentations, she went first. And it took me a moment to realize what was happening because everything she was talking about was my work.”

Annabeth clenched her jaw at the memory and had to take a deep, fortifying breath as her vision went momentarily red.

“So when it was my turn, I had to improvise. I passed – just barely. But she was given high honors for her presentation. And that made me… furious.”

Her crewmates were all leaning towards her now, their faces reflecting her own indignation. All except Nico, who was watching Will watch her.

“So I began to poison her.”

Annabeth was relieved to note that none of them looked horrified by the admission – well, Frank did appear mildly concerned. But Percy was grinning – a look of pride spreading across his face, and Will whooped and clapped his hands.

“Nothing lethal, just some dried and powdered Wasting Lilies, given slowly over the course of a few months — enough to make her think she might be dying of a horrible disease. Enough to make her hair fall out. Then her nails. Then to make her develop a pretty terrible rash. ”

Annabeth smiled to herself – remembering the way Sister Olivia had panicked, then begun shutting herself away. She remembered how everyone in their cohort began to avoid her like the plague. Literally. Because as far as they knew, she could have had some kind of terrible, communicable disease.

“I started telling people it looked like she was exhibiting symptoms of Tuberculosis Megalomania. A ‘highly infectious’ illness I’d entirely made up. But everyone in our cohort believed it, and she became a pariah.”

Piper let out a low whistle. “By the gods, Annabeth,” she muttered. “You’re devious.”

Something about the tone in which she said it made Annabeth think it was a compliment.

“I told you,” Percy rasped – his voice thick and dark and warm. “Our priestess is just as cut-throat as we are.”

For a moment, Annabeth felt buoyed by their admiration. Then she sighed.

“But I flew too close to the sun. Once they were able to diagnose her, the tutors did a search of our quarters and found the Wasting Lilies I was growing in my bathroom, and I got shut in the punishment closet for a week.”

It wasn’t the first time that had happened to her, but it had been the first time she’d thought she was going to die in there. She’d had to start rationing her water and was almost completely out of it by the time they opened the door and let her out.

Now imagine being buried alive, a cold, cruel voice whispered in the back of her mind.

“The what? ” There was a low and dangerous promise in Percy’s voice.

Annabeth shook herself.

“The …punishment closet? I mean, really more a cell than a closet but that’s just what we called it. For when they need to punish you for, oh, I don’t know. Trying to run away? Disrespecting your tutors? Things like that.”

The sudden appearance of horrified looks on her crewmates' faces made her uncomfortable. Even Nico was looking at her now, a glint in his eye that she couldn’t quite decipher. She didn’t turn to see the expression on Percy’s face, but she could feel the wrath radiating off of him in waves.

Annabeth choked out an uncomfortable laugh and took another sip of her wine.

“So, um, there you have it. I won’t necessarily kill you if you get on my bad side; I’ll just make you think you’re dying a slow and painful death over the course of several weeks.”

There was a beat of tense silence.

Her attempt at lightening the mood didn’t seem to be working, and Annabeth was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable; she shot a desperate, pleading look over at Percy.

He blinked, and the anger in his eyes cooled marginally. Then he cleared his throat.

“So you weren’t actually planning on outright killing me during your first few nights aboard the Argo II?” Percy sounded skeptical, and a little amused. But it was forced amusement – as if he was trying too hard to keep his tone light in the wake of her heavy admission.

“Oh, no. I was planning to kill you,” she shrugged, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“But there were a few preliminary steps I had to achieve first – steps that I’m still working towards, mind you. Don’t be so sure my plans haven’t changed, Seaweed Brain.”

That seemed to do the trick – the clouds in her captain’s expression cleared, leaving behind a face that was warmed by something she couldn’t quite name.

Friendly affection?

Whatever the emotion was, it stirred up an echoing thrill in the pit of her stomach.

He leaned over and said, in a whisper that was mean only for her ears, “Well I, for one, am glad to have someone as dangerous as you in our corner, Wise Girl."

His voice was too low, too soft for her poor nerves.

"Even if you do ruin the effect a bit by getting honey cake crumbs on your mouth.”

Then his hand drifted up. The edge of his thumb brushed against the corner of her bottom lip. Her breath caught, and she watched his expression darken as he caught her reaction.

She quickly bit into a fourth honey cake, and didn’t look at him again for the rest of the evening.

Chapter 13

Chapter Notes

As promised, two chapters in one night!

Fair warning, I have never -- not even once -- taken a physics class. Just FYI.

The sheer cliffside loomed over them — its edges as terrible and jagged as a monstrous row of teeth. If the monsters at the base of these walls didn’t kill them, the geography might.

She knew the math was right – had checked and rechecked it about two hundred times. But the difference between success and utter destruction was a matter of meters. If they fired the harpoon too soon or released it too late, they’d all become fish food.

They had moved the harpoon from the prow to the center of the port side gunnel and reinforced it with brass and iron beams.

They’d prepared the lifelines – each made of two long ropes, tied together at four different junctures, and secured tightly to the main mast by Frank’s reliable hands.

Lastly, just this morning, they’d redirected all power to the engines. If they weren’t moving fast enough, this wouldn’t work. So their refrigerated food, their running water, and the sun-lights that kept the garden growing would all have to be sacrificed for the cause.

At least for now. If they survived, they could salvage what was salvageable.

Annabeth was aloft, much to her captain’s dismay. He’d tried to talk her into staying in the quarters below, but the look she’d given him in response had shut him up real quick. They both knew she would be needed above deck to make sure the timing was just right.

“Fine,” he had sighed. “But the second – and I mean the second we’re ready to put those barbs into Scylla, I want your two feet back on the deck.”

She’d huffed and rolled her eyes at him, which had only earned her a brief, but sharp, tug at her braid.

His face was serious, but his tone was light and teasing when he said, “That is not how you respond to an order from your captain.”

“How about, ‘If you insist, Sir Seaweed Brain.’”

The look on his face became a little sharper— still teasing, but that gleam suddenly didn’t seem quite so friendly anymore.

“You can do better than that, Wise Girl. Tell me what I want to hear.”

His pupils were wide enough to almost completely swallow his irises, and the sight of it had made Annabeth’s stomach clench.

“Yes, Captain,” she’d whispered, hoping her lie was well hidden.

She knew she needed to be where she could see everything, where she had the best view of all the variables they were facing – not just at the very start, but through the whole ordeal –  in case they needed to improvise.  And she wouldn’t be able to see the field of battle from the deck below.

The strange, electric pull that thrummed between them didn’t change any of that, no matter how badly it made her want to please him. She was smarter than the pull gave her credit for.

So as they neared the narrow gap between the rock faces, as the sound ( the sound, gods) of the raging waters ahead washed over her, she stood firm in her perch.

They were approaching the gap from the south – it was there – just ahead.

“Full speed!” She called down to Percy, who stood at the helm. Momentarily, she found herself considering how it was going to take a significant amount of strength to keep the Argo II on course. The thought sent blood rushing to her cheeks, and Annabeth chastised herself.

Stu–

Silly girl. Silly. Focus, you absolute idiot.

“Aye, Priestess!” He called back; and the Argo II lurched forward, gathering speed until she was moving faster than she ever had before.

“Ready the harpoon!”

“Harpoon at the ready!” Frank’s voice carried easily – as strong and steady as he was.

“Aim 22 degrees, West-Northwest!”

“Aye, Priestess!”

She saw the side of Scylla’s profile, her enormous torso emerging from the water, her heads – all six of them – swaying, openmouthed, and hungry.

They needed her to turn towards them.

“Your job’s done, Wise Girl!” Her captain yelled up to her. “Get down!”

This was her chance. If she moved quickly, she could get down from the nest before they fired the second barb.

He watched her as she pretended to climb over the edge of the nest, and then, maybe because he trusted she would follow his orders, didn’t check to make sure she actually made it all the way down to the deck.

“First shot!” He called.

With an ear-shattering crack, Frank fired the first Harpoon, which was just a barb, untethered to the ship. It did the job it was supposed to do; Scylla screamed, a kind of piercing wail that made Annabeth cringe, and turned to face the Argo II, giving them a clear path to the front of her torso.

Within seconds, Hazel was already helping Frank heft the next barb into the harpoon cannon. This was the one that counted.

“Second shot!”

That crack sounded again, and the harpoon shot forward, straight and true, embedding itself into Scylla’s chest.

Frank and Nico rushed to secure the rope to the iron bands they’d installed along the gunwale, while Hazel reloaded the cannon so quickly that Annabeth almost didn’t see it happen.

“Third shot!”

Scylla screamed again as the next shot flew into her far shoulder. As they had hoped, she twisted away from the source of her discomfort, hauling the Argo along with her as she moved.

There was a forceful yank –  then a sensation as if the Argo II was being pulled out from under their feet. Which, in a way, it was. Annabeth held her breath – this was the first thing that could go wrong; if Scylla severed the rope, or if it snapped of its own accord …  but no, they held fast.

She and Leo and Hazel had woven it together just this morning; three braided ropes, intertwined with copper wire that Leo had stripped from the electrical panels of the Argo. They were just long enough that the Argo II could keep out of Scylla’s grasp, but not so long that Charybdis would be able to swallow them entirely.

“Everyone to your stations!”

Her captain’s head swiveled from side to side and then snapped up to where she still stood in the nest.

"Annabeth ! Get down here!” Percy demanded, and there was a note of fear in his voice – but he was a few moments too late. She’d already missed her window of opportunity. Trying to get down now would be too dangerous.

Their path began to curve, the Argo’s forward momentum warring with the pull of the ropes. The forces pulling on the Argo got stronger, and Annabeth felt herself leaning along with the ship, unable to do anything but bend to the push and pull of it.

Faster, and faster they went – Scylla’s strength, more so than the limited power of the ship’s engines, propelling them forward at terrifying speeds.

But Annabeth’s breathing all but stopped as she had a sudden, horrifying realization: their angle was wrong.

The angle was all wrong, and her captain couldn't see it from down below.

“Percy!” She screamed down. “Hard to port! Hard to port!”

He obeyed, and she let out a breath of relief as the prow of the ship shifted away from certain death and towards the sliver of sky and open ocean just ahead.

I was right to stay aloft, she thought. But her self-congratulation came a moment too soon because there was a sudden sickening sucking sound as Charybdis’s great mouth opened and began to pull them in.

The force of it snapped one of the ropes – or rather, it snapped the harpoon cannon from its mooring, sending it careening toward Scylla. She responded to the offense with an almighty shriek and another forceful twist that yanked on the one remaining rope.

They stayed tethered to Scylla, still just out of her reach, but they were hanging on by the skin of their teeth as Charybdis tried to pull them under.  The resulting dip and bob of the ship was so violent that Annabeth found herself stumbling, tumbling, over the edge of the bird’s nest.

Her lifeline caught her before she could fall too far, but the jolt that went through her as it stopped her plummeting body was agonizing. There was a distinct pop from her left shoulder, and then a searing pain shot through her torso, down her arm, and into her fingertips.

A scream tore itself from between her clenched teeth, the pain worsened by the fact that the ropes were digging into the places where they were secured along her shoulders and waist, burning her skin even through her clothes.

“Annabeth!” Percy’s yell could be heard even above the thundering waves and howling winds stirred up by Charybdis’s vortex.

She was spinning, spinning, spinning uncontrollably, and so only caught flashes of his face – the fear there, the desperation. But he couldn’t let go of the wheel. There was nothing anyone could do as she was left dangling several meters above the deck, except hope and hold on for dear life.

The Argo began to tilt dangerously towards her port side, and Annabeth’s lifeline started to sway – back and forth with movements of the ship – getting closer and closer to within grabbing distance of Scylla with each passing second.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Breathe, Annabeth.

Closer.

Think. What now? What now?

Too close.

Can’t go up, can’t go down.

She pulled out her dagger, praying to long-gone gods that she wouldn’t drop it.

Let me go down fighting.

Let me die with honor and courage.

One of Scylla’s heads saw its chance and snapped towards her — the sight and smell of that stinking maw making her stomach roil.

I will not cower.

Just as one of Scylla’s lolling tongues brushed against the back of Annabeth’s calf, she brandished her knife and stabbed at the tender flesh below the monster’s eyeball, ripping it sideways through her skin before yanking it out.

Scylla yowled and reared back, and Annabeth had the presence of mind to notice the blood that dribbled in thin rivulets beneath her slitted pupil was a bright, beautiful gold. For a split-second, she wished she had something to collect it with.

A piece of the gods.

Then her lifeline swung her backward again – and she was out of Scylla’s reach once more.

“Kill her!” She could hear Percy yelling. “Kill her, now!”

There was a loud bang and a flash of light as one of Leo’s weapons fired, sending a ball of green flames directly into Scylla’s gut. The monster howled again, retreating in on herself as the rabid dogs attached to her waist gnashed their frothing jaws.

“Again!” Percy bellowed, and Annabeth caught a glimpse of Leo taking aim.

“No!” She protested, as loudly as her winded lungs would let her. “Leo, no!”

Before Leo could fire again, however, they were at the gate of the crevasse; just beyond them lay the wide open seas, calm and safe.

“Nico!” She screamed. “Now, Nico! The rope!”

She saw him raise his dark sword, saw him swing, and then they were shooting forward – the force of their release sending them hurtling out from between the rocks and into the ocean. The Argo’s starboard side hit the cliff edge as it passed, sending a jolt through the whole ship, and causing Annabeth’s body to slam against the mast with such force that she could swear she heard every bone in her body crack.

“Annabeth–”

“Priestess–”

“Frank!”

“On it, Captain!”

The Argo began to steady. Then there were pounding feet. A yank – someone was pulling on her lifeline, hauling her up into the nest. There was a pair of arms around her.

She let herself slip into the pain and the dark without too much worry.

Her crewmates had her now; she would be just fine.

She awoke to a pounding headache, a furious captain, and a feeling that she had somehow ceased to be human and instead become one enormous bruise.

“You’re awake!” Said a voice that was far too enthusiastic for her current state. “She’s awake!”

Annabeth closed her eyes again.

“Give us the room, Will.”

Uh oh.

There was an undercurrent in that voice that should have put Annabeth on edge. But instead, it ran across her spine like cool spring water on a hot summer’s day.

“You too, Grover. Thanks for…” he sighed. “Just thanks.”

“Anytime, Percy.”

Annabeth waited for the sound of the door shutting before she blinked her eyes open. Slowly, the fuzzy outline of one very pissed-off Percy gradually came into focus.

“Here.”

He held his water pouch to her lips, and she took several grateful gulps. He watched her carefully, and once he was satisfied she’d had enough, capped it and put it aside.

“You disobeyed me.”

“I –” she began, but he cut her off.

“Not only did you disobey me; you also lied to me and countermanded one of my orders in front of my crew .”

Ouch.

The look of betrayal he gave her hurt worse than the bruises.

“I just – Percy, I needed to have the best possible view of the field  –”

“The best possible view, huh? And when exactly was that? When you were dangling in the air? Spinning like a maple seed in the wind? Or when you were inches away from Scylla’s mouths?”

He stood up and began to pace.

“If you had told me – talked to me about your reasons, then we could have come to a compromise. Or at least rigged your lifeline to keep you in the gods damned nest! But no – you rolled your eyes at me and then you lied to me. ”

Annabeth had no defense for that accusation. An excuse, maybe. But she doubted Percy would want to hear her excuses right now.

“What did I do wrong, Annabeth?”

He…

What?

She watched as he fisted his fingers into his dark hair and yanked, looking lost, and frustrated, and pained. It was so odd, so out of place, to see it. Percy was a man who exuded confidence at all times – even to a fault. But now he just looked so … young.

To say that Annabeth was taken aback would be an understatement. If anyone was in the wrong here, it was clearly her.

“Is it that you didn’t trust me to listen to your opinion? I know, maybe I wasn’t — you didn’t trust me, before. I hadn’t earned it. But I thought— maybe after the other day…”

And Annabeth realized he was just as upset with himself as he was with her, if not more so. Because the fact that she hadn’t followed his orders wasn’t just a reflection on her, but also a reflection on him as a captain.

She had no idea what to say to fix this mess she’d made.

But she had to try.

“I’m not…good at trust,” she whispered, her throat like sandpaper. At the sound of her voice, he stopped his pacing, coming over to hand her his water pouch again. Annabeth took a grateful sip, then continued.

“I don’t know how to do it like other people do. I’ve always been the only person I can trust. And I… I still don’t really know how to, but I know what it looks like, now. Because it looks like you and your crew.”

He didn’t say anything, but the sharp panic was slowly leaving his eyes, making way for understanding.

She took a breath.

“I feel safe around you— around all of you. Safer than I’ve ever felt around anyone since— since before —“

She couldn’t get the words out, so she tried another tactic.

“I trust you as much as I know how, Percy.”

That seemed to be what he needed to hear, because all the remaining tension drained out of his face and shoulders, which rose and fell slowly, once and then again, as he took steadying breaths.

Then he lowered himself back into the chair.

“Okay.”

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and, without meaning to, she found herself leaning into his touch.

“Am I forgiven?” She whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. Could he hear how desperate she was for it? For absolution? For acceptance?

“You don’t have to forgive the people who hurt you ,” he’d said. And she’d obviously hurt him.

“I think I’d forgive you for just about anything,” he murmured, and Annabeth’s heart clenched at how painfully tender his words were. “But I need you to trust me. Okay?”

“I’ll … try.”

He bent low and brushed his lips to her temple, making her shiver imperceptibly.

“Or maybe,” his voice dipped low – shifting from sweet to suggestive. “Maybe I just need to work on how gods damned stubborn you are. Hmmm?”

This time, her shudder was embarrassingly obvious, and Annabeth could feel his lips curl into a smile.

Yes, she wanted to gasp . But instead, she bit her tongue and gave the only indication of acknowledgment that her pride would let her make— an irritated humph.

He laughed quietly – not at her, and not cruelly – but in a way that conveyed both deep satisfaction and warm affection.

As he got up to leave, he turned and said, “Next time, Annabeth, will you promise to tell me what you’re thinking before you put yourself at risk? Please? At least let me know what crazy plans you’ve got cooking in that big brain of yours?”

“I promise, Percy.”

“Thank you,” he sighed. And then he was gone, and she was left to consider the fact that…

Well, that he cared so deeply about whether she lived or died. That he cared about having her trust. That he cared about the risks she took.

That he cared.

Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

This is a particularly long chapter, and I briefly considered breaking into two, but then I thought ... no, they've been so patient.

So here you are, darlings.

They stayed anchored off the coast of Sicily for four days while they made repairs.

She was confined to her quarters for bed rest because of her injuries— a dislocated shoulder, two bruised ribs, several contusions, some internal bleeding, and a concussion. Luckily for her, Will’s various potions and poultices were making quick work of them all. Especially considering the fact that she was a pretty terrible patient.

When Will told her she needed to stay in bed for the next few days, she’d briefly considered mutiny.

“But I’m fine, Will!”

“No, Annabeth, you absolute terror. You’re definitely not fine.”

“I can’t stay cooped up in here for days! I’ll go nuts!”

“You’re already nuts. And if I let you wander around and get hurt worse, Percy will string me from the mizzenmast by my intestines.”

That brought her up short.

Before she could stop herself, a question that had been weighing on her for the past few weeks slipped free of her lips.

“Where does he sleep?”

Annabeth could feel her face turning beet red, but she pretended it wasn’t happening. And Will, being a great and terrible friend, immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he used to sleep here.”

“Yes, I know that.”

Will grinned at her irritation.

“Sometimes he sleeps in one of the bunk rooms. Other times I think he just puts a hammock up on the deck. Percy’s always preferred to sleep under the stars, anyways.”

“Should I — give him his quarters back?”

“Nah.”

“But this room is so much nicer than the others. It might be seen as favoritism.”

“It is favoritism.”

That did not make her feel a rush of happiness, no matter what the little monster on her shoulder whispered. Besides, Annabeth knew that the end result of favoritism was almost always resentment.

“Are people upset by it?”

Will scooped her fingers up in his hands – surprisingly cool to the touch for someone who always emanated so much warmth.

“We’re just glad to see him coming back to life again. Been a while since anything made him happy.”

“A while?”

“About a year.”

She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, but Will beat her to it.

“Not my story to tell, Annabeth.”

Right.  Of course. Just another mystery to put into her growing pile.

She was almost never alone— the crew kept up a rotating shift of people coming down to see her and chat with her.

When Frank came to visit, he brought some scraps of string and fabric. She taught him how to make simple bracelets – he wove a purple one, she wove a gray; she wore his purple one, and he wore her gray.

Hazel brought her collection of precious stones and taught Annabeth how to tell the difference between the real gems and the counterfeits. She asked Annabeth about the Athenian stables and listened to Annabeth’s descriptions of the Athena’s horses with a wistful look on her face.

“Maybe we could steal a horse for you,” she suggested, which made Hazel beam at her.

Piper and Jason visited her together and taught her how to play a card game that required a fair amount of skill at deception. Piper won three times, Annabeth once, and Jason not at all. He was entirely unbothered, however, as she and Piper took every last coin from his pockets.

When Annabeth teased him about it, he’d only smiled and said, “She’s got all of me already, Priestess. What’s a few more coins?”

And Annabeth felt envy settle heavily on her chest.

Leo was no longer allowed to come and visit her after Percy had overheard him agreeing to help her escape her confinement by setting up a ridiculously convoluted set of pulleys and levers out of the window. There was really no need for that kind of contraption, since the door wasn’t locked, and no one was physically forcing her to stay, but it sounded like such a fun idea that Annabeth was ready and willing to go along with it.

“No,” Percy had growled when she asked if they could try it just once to make Leo happy.

“But –”

“No. Don’t try to argue this with me, sweetheart. You’re not going to win.”

She had tried not to let him see the effect his tone had on her body.

(She had failed.)

Every three hours, Will would come in to tend to her injuries. Annabeth was so covered in bruise balm that she worried the smell would permeate into her skin and stay for all eternity.

Grover came to eat with her twice a day. Oftentimes, their conversations turned towards the environmental impact of scientific progress, and, once or twice, to the lost god Pan.

“Because you see,” he’d bleated. “Pan disappeared before the Usurpation! So there’s a chance that he’s still around, since—“

“Since the other gods wouldn’t have been able to take him with them?”

“Exactly!”

It was certainly worth looking into. Maybe, when she returned to the Scholar City—-

When she…

Did she still want to return to the Scholar City? Even if she could? Was that really what she wanted to ask Hades for?

She didn’t know anymore.

In the few hours when everyone was too busy to keep her company, Annabeth read the books Piper and Will had given her.

Several times.

With each reread, she could feel a knot inside her begin to loosen. Her feelings, her reactions… maybe she didn’t have to be so ashamed of them.

Will’s books were especially helpful. They approached everything – from the mundane to the taboo –  in an objective and academic way that was deeply reassuring. She raced through the pages, drinking in every word.

It was like having a new color revealed to her or discovering an entirely new sense she’d not known she had.

Suddenly the vows that she’d been manipulated into taking at such a young age— because that is what it was, she was beginning to realize, manipulation —- started to lose their appeal. No one had explained what she would be giving up when they’d spilled her blood into the sacred chalice and made her repeat the words that would bind her to a maiden’s life.

And even if they had explained it to her, she wouldn’t have understood, not entirely. Not at such a young age.

Then they’d kept this knowledge from her, taken this choice from her.

But maybe she could take that choice back. Maybe… going forward, she could find a way to come to terms with the nature of her newfound desires. Maybe she could make her own decisions about what she did or did not do with her own body.

How utterly, beautifully… terrifying.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in!”

The last person she’d expected to see was Nico, and yet there he was, looking a little bit apprehensive.

Somehow, even though he spent hours out in the sun like all of the others on this ship, his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. He had a delicate face – a sharp shin, high cheekbones — framed by shaggy, black hair. His eyes were dark and shadowed, his lips full. He looked like some tragic child of Hades from the paintings of the Classical Era.

He was a boy made of sorrow, and his body practically rang with it. A mournful chord that resonated deep in Annabeth’s own heart. All this time she’d thought Will was her kindred spirit, but maybe she was more like Nico, with his air cold detachment and eyes that swam with sadness. Maybe that was why she found it so difficult to be around him.

He stood stock still by the door jamb, barely stepping an inch into the room.

“Nico?” She finally asked.

“Hello,” he said, gruffly.

“Hi…”

He took two quick steps forward, then jerked to a stop before scratching at his jaw. She watched, utterly confused, as he ran a hand through his hair and shifted nervously from foot to foot.

When he caught her watching him, he scowled, his usual misanthropic mask falling into place for just a moment before it melted away once again, revealing an anxious expression underneath.

It was then that clarity finally dawned on her: Nico wasn’t brooding or prickly — well, he was, but he had a good reason for it— he was self-conscious .

“Will you come… sit with me?” She asked– a stilted, but earnest invitation. He nodded, shuffled towards her, and sat stiffly on the edge of the chair.

“I wanted to apologize,” he muttered, his eyes flashing up to her face and then back down.

She tried not to let her surprise show on her face, sure that he might bolt at the slightest sign of … well, just about anything but neutrality.

“Why?” She was genuinely curious. There wasn’t anything she could think of for him to apologize for.

He looked her over from head to toe and then jerked his chin in the general direction of her torso.

“Your injuries. They’re my fault.”

“ What? Of course they’re not.”

He hummed and chewed nervously on the inside of his cheek, still not meeting her eyes, and Annabeth felt a surge of protectiveness for this strange, sad man.

“Percy seems to think so.”

“Well, then Percy is being unfair. I’ll have a word with him.”

“Priestess, that’s not why –”

“I got hurt because of my own gods damned hubris, Nico. Percy can’t pin that on you. You can’t pin that on you, either. Okay?”

He nodded, but Annabeth got the feeling that he was still unconvinced.

“I should be the one apologizing.” She tried to suffuse the statement with as much certainty as she possibly could. “I put you in a position where you had to take actions that would hurt me, which wasn’t fair of me. I’m very sorry I did that to you.”

When his eyes finally met hers, they were wide with disbelief. Either he genuinely believed he didn’t deserve her apology, or he wasn’t used to being apologized to. Both possibilities made her surprisingly furious.

“Now would you be so kind as to let your captain know I need to speak with him?”

“Oh, you don’t have to – “

“Yes, I do! I’m not going to let him be pig-headed about this. Especially not if it’s hurting you. You don’t deserve to be punished for something beyond your control, not by Percy and certainly not by yourself.” She met his eyes, hoping that he would consider how her words could apply in other situations as well.

He dipped his chin and stood, clearly in a hurry to leave her overbearing presence as quickly as possible.

“Oh! And Nico? Could you do me a favor before you speak to Percy? Could you go tell Will I need another jar of bruise balm?”

His eyes flicked to her bedside table, where a full jar of bruise balm sat clear as day, then back to Annabeth. She tried to arrange her face into an innocent expression.

Nico eyed her warily.

“He cares about you, you know,” he said.

“Who? Will? Yes, I know.”

“I mean Percy.”

Her heart stuttered.

“You scared him with that stunt you pulled. I’ve never seen him so scared.”

Annabeth bit at her bottom lip, equal tides of pleasure and shame coursing through her.

Then she lifted her chin and said, “Will cares about you, too. He loves you, even.”

Nico nodded.

“I know.”

They were both silent as they considered that information.

“So… what do we do now?” Annabeth asked.

He shrugged.

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. Are people like us even able to care the way other people do?”

“People like us?”

“Broken people.”

He said it so simply, like it was some undeniable truth. They were broken people. He knew it, and so did she. Her newfound confidence and sense of belonging didn’t change that.

Except…

“I don’t think we’re broken, Nico. At least, maybe… not all the way.”

He seemed doubtful but didn’t argue, just sighed and slipped out into the hallway before she could say anything else.

An hour later, Percy poked his head in.

“You summoned?”

She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer and closer until he was sitting beside her. He must have sensed her intentions, because he approached her with the same trepidation one might use when facing a very hungry Cerberus.

“Why,” she began, a threat clear in her tone, “does Nico seem to think my injuries are his fault?”

Percy’s shoulders slumped, then he sighed and pressed his hands to his forehead.

“It was a moment of weakness, Wise Girl. I was upset about something else and it just…slipped out. I’ll apologize to him.”

“Now?”

“In a minute.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright then.”

He gave her a small, rueful smile and moved to sit beside her on the bed. His eyes trailed across her, sending sparks of warmth through her whole body.

Bringing up his left hand, he ghosted a fingertip along the bruises on her shoulder, then the backs of his fingers brushed against her cheek, before finally coming to rest on her forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been telling Will, I’m fine . Honestly, I could have been out of this bed yesterday.”

“Don’t get testy with me, sweetheart. It was a genuine question.”

“I—”

He cares about you.

She wanted him to care about her.

She took a deep breath and considered her answer. What had Will’s books said about honest communication? Something about strong foundations and trust.

“I’m feeling a little bit cooped up.”

The words came out in a rush, and Annabeth’s teeth almost immediately found purchase on her lower lip and began to gnaw.

“Hmmm.”  His fingers traced down her temple and along her jaw. “Will says you should be good to get back up top by tomorrow.”

His thumb pulled her lip out from between her teeth and rubbed along the now-swollen edge. It took Annabeth a few frantic heartbeats to realize what he’d just said.

“He does?”

“He does.”

“And you?”

She didn’t know whether or not she necessarily needed his permission, but she wanted it. She could see in his expression just how much that pleased him.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“If Will says it’s okay, then I won’t argue.”

“Thank you!”

He smiled so tenderly that she almost forgot her own name. Then his eyes flashed down to her other side, and his smile took on its usual sly twist.

“Getting some interesting reading done?” He was teasing her, and there was heat in the question.

Oh, Hades.

She’d forgotten to hide them away.

Her embarrassment worsened when she realized the page her book was open to.

“ In power exchange relationships, one partner often takes on the dominant role while the other takes on a submissive role…”

The text was supplemented with pictures of bound hands and figures on their knees.

Jutting out her chin and ignoring the rising flush in her cheeks, Annabeth did her best and most haughty impression of a Scholar Priestess with a modicum of her dignity still left intact.

“It’s research .”

“Research?”

“Yes. I know almost all there is to know about… well, most things. This is one facet of human experience that the temples lack literature on. So I’m researching.”

Percy pressed his lips together like he was trying to hold in a laugh, but the rest of his expression remained entirely serious.

“I see. But you know, this is really more of a hands-on kind of discipline.”

Her whole body went hot. Why did he have to use that description?

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”

“I’m sure you do, oh wise one.”

“I’ll not suffer your condescension right now. Not about this.”

He winced, then gave her an apologetic look.

“You’re right, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His thumb had moved to her collarbone, and he began stroking rhythmically against the pulse in her neck.

"All I’m trying to say is, if you decide you want to gain some first-hand knowledge, I’ll gladly be your test subject.”

“My test subject.”

Her voice was flat and disbelieving.

“Friends make the best test subjects—-“

Exactly how much evidence did he have to collect over the years in order to prove that claim?

“—And I have a hunch that you and I might share some – ”

He hummed, searching for the right words.

“ – similar tastes. So if you would like to put your research into practice, just let me know.”

Similar tastes.

All she could see were images of the two of them tangled up together like the characters in The Maiden’s Voyage.

“You have designs on my virtue!”

“I’d sure as Hades like to.”

There was that smile – that quick and crooked thing that made her body thrum with need.

“You’re a — a — scoundrel!”

“I am.”

She’d officially reached her limit. This was as much as she could possibly, humanly take at the moment.

“Go!” She thrust out a finger, pointing with all the authority and impatience of an empress. “Stop pestering me and go talk to Nico!”

Percy’s eyes roved over her for a second, taking in the sight of her. She wondered what he saw – messy and unkempt, situated beneath a mountain of blankets and books.

“Your wish is my command, Priestess,” he said, before sliding off the bed, saluting her with a flourish, and sailing jauntily out the door.

And Tartarus take her, even as she tried to fight it, she was smiling -- the widest, most ridiculous, most idiotic smile.

Late into the night, she was woken up by a nightmare  — or rather, a memory —- and she found herself wandering slowly, gingerly up into the fresh air.

It’s past midnight , she thought to herself. So technically, I’m allowed.

Her eyes went immediately up to the quarter-deck, searching instinctively for the figure she wouldn’t admit she longed to see. He stood behind the helm, one hand against the lazily adjusting the wheel of the ship, the other elbow resting against the railing.

Something about the way the light of the stars filtered through the clouds and the balmy ocean breeze played in the tangled strands of her hair gave her the courage to make her way towards him.

He smiled when he saw her.

“Here to boss me around some more, Wise Girl?”

“I was right, and you know it.”

“Of course you were right; you almost always are. Almost. ”

He winked – all rakish and self-effacing charm. If Aphrodite hadn’t been long gone, she would have cursed the goddess for making him so…

So much himself .

She didn’t want to think about all the things she'd been wrong about right then. This moment didn’t feel like the time for that. So she changed the subject.

“When do you even sleep?”  She asked as she took the steps up to the quarterdeck. She tucked herself on the railing beside him, close enough that he could reach out and touch her. Far enough that she could maintain plausible deniability.

“Here and there; in the quiet hours of the afternoon, the earliest hours of the morning – when nobody needs me.”

“You should really get more rest. Recent sleep studies have shown –”

Her voice cut off when his finger caught a tendril of her hair.

“No need to fuss over me, sweetheart. I’m a scoundrel, after all.” She rolled her eyes, and he tsked disapprovingly – the sound made blood rush traitorously to her cheeks.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he murmured.

“I – nightmare. Woke me up.”

“What was it about?”

“Nothing important.”

He took out a rope and tied the wheel into place – Annabeth tried to ignore the way his fingers looked as they deftly wove two simple knots. She failed – utterly and completely, and when he turned to her, a knowing smile dimpled his cheeks as he caught sight of her blatant desire.

He took another step closer to her – and now all of her plausible deniability was gone. She didn’t try to get any of it back.

“Was it about Scylla?”

There was nothing subtle about the way he bent his head to speak into her ear. He was bringing down all her pretenses – brick by brick – with each exhalation of his that fanned against her cheek.

“No.”

“Charybdis?”

“No”

“Then what?”

His hand lifted off of the railing and came to rest at the curve of her waist. His thumb stroked back and forth along a bare patch of skin at her hip from where her shirt had ridden up.

“Octavian,” she admitted.

He stiffened for a moment, a low rumble emitting from his chest, before he pressed himself even closer to her, as if doing so could somehow physically shield her from her nightmares.

“Would you like to know what I did to him?” His voice was a low rasp that traveled right to the juncture of her thighs. “Will you let me tell you why he can never hurt you again?”

Annabeth didn’t want to want that, but she did.

What kind of a sick person was she? The kind who hoped to hear the details of another person’s death, she supposed.

Disgusting. Deviant. Lawless.

And yet...

“Yes or no. Tell me what you want, Annabeth.” The command sent a jolt of heat down through her toes, but it also centered her – pulled her back from that precipice of self-loathing.

“Yes. I’d like to know, please.”

He hummed in approval, and the heat intensified, concentrating in the low pit of her stomach — then lower.

“First I used a dagger to pluck out his eyes.”

His hand skirted up the side of her body, and she hoped he would touch…. but he kept his fingers to the soft spots of her arms instead.

She’d never – she wanted – oh, gods .

Vow or no vow, she was desperate to have his hands on her. It was a truth she could no longer avoid.

“Why?”

“Because of the way he looked at you. Like you were just some object he could possess or take apart. Instead of what you are.”

Annabeth’s breathing began to quicken.

“Which is?”

“Brilliant. A little terrifying. Daring. Deserving. Beautiful.”

How was she supposed to ever recover from this interaction? How was she supposed to act normally around him in the harsh light of day, now that she knew all of this? Now that she felt all of this?

“What next?”

“Next I cut out his tongue.”

His hand went to the side of her neck, and without fully realizing it, Annabeth tilted her head to give him better access. His eyes were wolfish as they lingered on her exposed skin, and it made her breath hitch.  He used a knuckle to stroke, just barely, along the column of her throat. The touch was somehow both too much and utterly insufficient. She wanted more, wanted him to wrap his hand around her neck the way he had done the other day, wanted to feel bound to him again.

“Because?” She gasped, unable to keep the whimper from her voice.

“Of what he said to you. He was a dead man the moment those words left his mouth. I hope you know that.”

The little sigh that left her lips was utterly indecent.

“After that, I sliced off his fingers, one after the other, for the way he touched you.”

Her body and her mind were no longer her own. Never –  never before in her life had someone made her feel both so wild and so safe all at once. He had seen to it that Octavian could never look at her, talk to her, or touch her again.

He had protected her like she was his to protect. Had even said as much. He had seen justice done on her behalf in a world that had, for almost her whole life, felt deeply, painfully unjust.

“And then?”

His hand came to rest just under her collarbone, fitting the base of her throat into the v between his thumb and fingers. Almost giving her what she wanted, but not quite.

Could he feel the way her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird's wings against the heel of his palm?

“And then, when he was a howling mess of blood and piss, I slit him across the gut, and I threw both him and his intestines out into the water for the sharks to finish.”

She shuddered— but it wasn’t from fear, only from relief and maybe...

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“It was my pleasure, Wise Girl.”

His eyes trailed down, down, down, and a smile curved at the edges of his mouth. Annabeth realized with a flush of humiliation and self-loathing that she’d begun rubbing her thighs together.

Disgusting. Deviant. Lawless.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

She shook her head and took a few steps back, but he followed her, step for step.

“Don’t lie to me. You think I don’t already know just how bloodthirsty you are?”

She bared her teeth at him, but she didn’t push him away.

“There she is. That’s my vicious priestess. You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“And what, exactly, am I doing?”

She tried to channel all the authority she’d scolded him with this morning, but under the weight of his touch and the heat of his gaze, all she really wanted was to let herself succumb to the gentle, hazy feelings he inspired in her. To let the world slip away, to let the hard edges of herself soften, to let go of her mind for just once and give herself over to him.

That desire was more terrifying than Scylla and Charybdis combined.

“No one is beautiful when they’re angry. Anger is ugly and unbecoming.” She’d hoped to sound confident, but it just came out forlorn. “I’m not so naive that I’d fall for your empty compliments, Percy.”

His hands stilled, then traveled back to the railing, and Annabeth wasn't sure whether to sob in dismay or relief at the loss of his touch.

It took him a few seconds to respond.

“Annabeth,” he finally said. “Is the sea any less beautiful during a storm?”

“... yes.”

“No. No, she’s not. She takes your breath away, leaves your heart pounding, your knees shaking –”

“She’s gray and foaming and frothing and dark and … and out of control. That is not beautiful.”

“Two things. First, You’re confusing beautiful with pleasant, Wise Girl. And one is infinitely more interesting than the other. You can be beautiful and unpleasant at the same time. In fact, I rather like it when you’re unpleasant.”

“Since when were you a scholar of aesthetics?”

“ Second, what’s so wrong with being out of control?”

Annabeth had too many answers to that question. She also had no answers to that question. Because being out of control meant being vulnerable. It meant not having defenses. It meant … getting hurt.

“Whenever I lose control, bad things happen to me. I’m safer when I have my walls up.”

He tilted his head down at her, considering. His gaze was a heavy and warm, and his expression made it clear that he wasn’t judging her fears, just weighing them.

When he moved, it was slow – he brought his hand back up to her cheek and stroked it gently with the tips of his fingers. In spite of herself, she leaned into his touch and sighed contentedly. She had missed the feel of his hands in just that brief span of time.

“Isn’t losing control just … freedom? Wildness? And you’re a wild one, Annabeth. Putting you behind walls of any sort – tangible or otherwise, is criminal.”

They were quiet for a moment. Percy’s hand shifted from her cheek and began gently carding through the strands of her hair.

It felt so lovely that her eyes briefly fluttered shut, then blinked back open.

“Maybe… I just need to practice.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure what had made her say that – the monster on her shoulder, most likely. Or maybe Will and Piper’s ridiculous books.

“Practice?”

Percy’s eyebrow quirked as he asked the question. There was a smile curling at the corner of his lips – the kind of smile that invited a person to do all kinds of terrible, deviant things in the name of practice.

Annabeth couldn’t pull her eyes away from it, as she said:

“You know, for research purposes only. Practice… giving up control. Maybe to someone I trust.”

Then, because Percy looked entirely too self-satisfied by that statement (all bright eyed and amused, the ass), Annabeth added, “Like Grover.”

He snorted, his face lighting up with a wide, self-deprecating grin.

“Suppose I deserved that. Although his girlfriend might kill you if you do.”

“That does put a wrench in my plans.”

“I know someone else who might be able to help.”

“Hmmmm. Is he good-looking?”

Who was this person speaking through her lips? All low and sultry sounding – teasing, flirting . It couldn’t be her, surely. Because she didn’t know how to flirt.

“Very.”

“Reliable? Loyal?”

“To a fault.”

“Patient?” The word came out in a whisper, all humor gone.

“He’s got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

“Then maybe he would be an acceptable second choice.”

He hummed in agreement, then asked, “You want to give up a little bit of control? Want to let me take care of you?” For the second time in less than a week, her captain sounded uncharacteristically anxious.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking as she admitted her most deviant desire.

“Do you like the way I take control then, Annabeth? It won’t make you uncomfortable if I … ”

She was falling, tumbling into his eyes. She had become a moth, caught in the bright green light of his tender gaze.

“Not uncomfortable. It feels – ” she forced herself to be courageous, to say it  “ – safe.”

Perhaps safe wasn’t exactly the right word, but it was the closest one she had to describe the way he made her feel.

She’d lived so long in a world where no one had ever seemed to care, no one had ever had her best interests at heart, and then here was this man — who wanted to look after her while still admiring her wildness.

And maybe it made her weak, but deep in the darkest depths of her soul, she longed for his particular kind of care.

“You’ll tell me if it stops feeling that way?”

He lowered his head, tracing his nose along the curve of her jaw and down her neck.

“Yes.”

His breath touched her collarbone, then he pulled away.

“Promise?”

His gaze was searching.

“Promise.”

Her breathing started to quicken as he moved, millimeter by tortuous millimeter, until his lips were just a hair's breadth from her own.

She waited for him to initiate a kiss, but he stayed perfectly still. The soft gusts of his exhalations brushed against the sensitive skin of her lips – once, twice, three times – until she just couldn’t take it anymore. Driven by equal parts desperation and impatience, Annabeth rushed up into her tiptoes and pressed a firm, closed-mouth kiss to his lips.

He sighed against her mouth, and it sounded like relief. Like a man finally breathing the fresh air again after having been underwater for too long.

She pulled back after only a few seconds. A little horrified. A little embarrassed. A little proud.

All the embarrassment disappeared as quickly as it came, however, because the look on Percy’s face put the stars to shame.

His voice was hoarse when he asked, “How was that, Wise Girl?”

“It,” she took in a little breath, “it felt good.”

He purred and gently cupped the nape of her neck in his hand, bending down to brush his lips just briefly against hers again, then against her forehead.

“You’re a brave, wild woman, Annabeth,” he murmured, his voice velvety with pride and praise for her. “And I’m a lucky gods damned bastard.”

She let the tentative joy blooming inside her chest show on her face.

Yes. Yes, she felt wild. Yes, she felt brave. And maybe it was a silly thing to feel – the kiss had been so chaste, so innocent, after all. But it still felt like she was beginning to break free of the cage that the Scholar City had put around her heart and mind.

Forget taking down her barriers, she was outright jumping off of the walls she’d built around herself, hoping, trusting, that he would be there to catch her at the bottom.

Chapter 15

Chapter Summary

Go south around the white-walled land Poseidon does not shake.

Shield your ears from sirens' song,

or you’ll be theirs to take.

The secrets they might share with you are simply hidden truths

To listen there is to give up the innocence of youth.

Chapter Notes

1. You are all the best readers anyone could ask for. Your comments are wonderful and make me so, so happy. Thank you thank you and thank you for reading my work at all!

2. I mention a couple of OCs in this chapter. Just in case anyone is wondering why, it's because other than Octavian, there's no one so irredeemable in the PJO series that I would use them for these characters. "Not even Clarisse?" You might ask. No. Especially not Clarisse. She loved Silena with the fire of a thousand suns and that will always make her redeemable in my eyes.

3. I promise the smut is coming, but our poor, flustered Annabeth is not about to go from 0 to 100. She's got to dip her toe into the waters first. Have faith. Have patience. I will not fail you! (I hope.) (This smut had better be good after all the build up ... *gulp*).

Percy had not, as Annabeth feared ( hoped? ) tried to bend her over the railing then and there.

Instead, he’d hummed contentedly against the crown of her head, and asked, “Will the nightmares come back? Do you want to sleep on the deck so I can watch over you?”

Yes. I want that very much.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Her cheek had fallen against his chest as she tried to steady herself against him. But despite her best efforts, her breathing was still coming too quick and too ragged for her liking. And that pulling, insistent want still buzzed just beneath her skin.

If she stayed up with him much longer, she would give him more than a kiss. And a kiss was all she was really ready to give at the moment.

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly.”

He’d pulled her away from his chest to get a better look at her face, but before he could set those dangerous eyes on her again, she had turned tail and run as fast as her injured body would carry her. Which is to say, she’d walked gingerly away.

“Goodnight, Wise Girl,” he’d called after her.

“Goodnight,” she’d squeaked, and then had proceeded to stay awake until dawn— troubled not by nightmares, but rather by the most rampant, horrible, delicious daydreams.

“I want to listen to the sirens’ song.”

Her declaration over breakfast the next morning was met with wide-eyed disbelief from everyone but Percy, who began to rub exhaustedly at the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Her crewmates looked at one another, concerned glances – the kind you might share with people when you were all equally worried about the mental state of one of your friends.

“This is a chance for me to collect almost unprecedented knowledge! And I think it’s most likely important for fulfilling a key component of the spirit of the quest. ”

Still nothing.

“I have a plan, you know! I’m going to have one of you tie me up –”

Percy’s head snapped up, and he fixed a faux-innocent look on his face, cocking his head to the side and gazing up at her with rapt attention. He fluttered his lashes in a way that could only be described as coquettish, and Annabeth felt her face flush; suddenly, this idea didn’t seem quite so foolproof after all.

“T-tie me up,” she repeated, moving her eyes upwards. “And then they won’t be able to get me off the ship, no matter how hard they try.”

She wasn’t looking at Piper. She wasn’t looking at Will. And she wasn’t looking at Percy.

Could everyone tell? Did they all see it, plain as day, the same way those three ridiculous, sexually liberated harpies did?

She and Percy hadn’t discussed what they would tell the rest of the crew. Was there even anything to tell them? Maybe she was reading too much into what had happened last night. Maybe he just … kissed all of the repressed priestesses who ended up on his ship. As a favor. A friendly favor for a pathetic girl.

“I think that sounds like a pretty solid plan. We’ll make sure you’re well secured, and the rest of us can stuff our ears with wax. That’s what Odysseus did, right?”

Oh, thank the gods for Hazel. Truly, she was a gift and a lodestar.

“Yes! Yes, exactly. It’s what Odysseus did. Which is why I want to do it.” Her words sounded forced – stilted. One glance at Percy told her that he still looked like the cat that ate the canary. He was entirely too pleased with himself for anything to go well for her.

“Right, well, I’m going to go over there,” she spun and made her way to the foremast, as far away from all of them as she possibly could without retreating to her cave. Did she have any particular plans for what to do over by the foremast? No. No, she did not. She was just going to go there.

Fortunately – unfortunately!

Unfortunately, it didn’t take very long for the object of both her frustration and desire to catch up with her. He took hold of her right elbow, careful not to jostle her.

“And now where do you think you’re going, Wise Girl?”

She shot him her most forceful glare; he grinned in response.

“Oh, you know,” she waved a hand vaguely up into the sails. “I’m just going to go fling myself off of the foremast.”

He looked at her with a mixture of mischief and disapproval.

“I’ve only just had the smallest taste of you, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You’re not flinging yourself off of anything until I’ve had my fill. Not when I’d bet my ship that the rest of you is just as delicious as your mouth.”

Annabeth squirmed and the thought of him tasting … more of her. Her mind flashed to a particular scene from The Maiden’s Voyage, and she wondered if that was the particular kind of tasting he meant.

Oh gods, she wanted that. She really, really wanted that. And it must have been written plainly across her face because Percy’s smile widened.

“What if –” Annabeth cleared her throat. “What if I’m not… what if I don’t want you to have any more, um, tastes?”

He tilted his head, considering her, and she raised her chin, mustering as much dignity as she could.

“It would be one of the great tragedies of my life,” he said earnestly.

Oh, curse Eros and all his arrows! Annabeth howled internally. How am I supposed to win against that?

She averted her gaze; her fingers twisting around one another, tying each other into sweaty, panicked knots.

“And what if I said that it would be… immoral and – and deviant… to be tasted by you?”

His eyes softened, and he tucked one finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him again.

There was an electric buzzing in the air, and her pulse began to pound in her ears. She felt herself stepping forward, into his arms, and tilting her head back – lifting her lips up to him. He bent towards her – just the tiniest bit – and her breath caught in her throat.

Then Leo called for him from the other end of the ship, and he stepped backwards, but didn’t release his hold on her. He flicked his eyes up to the foremast, and then back down to Annabeth.

“You’re not allowed aloft until Will gives you the all-clear.”

She spluttered with indignation.

He cocked an eyebrow, but his face was entirely serious when he said, “I’ll not have you putting yourself at risk of any more injuries just because you’re impatient. If I see you set so much as one toe on the rigging without my say-so, I’ll confine you to quarters for the rest of the quest.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He gripped her chin tightly in between his thumb and forefinger, and murmured, “Watch me, Wise Girl. You just watch what happens if you disobey me like that again.”

The traitorous heat spread through Annabeth’s stomach, and then lower.

Later that evening, Annabeth found another book outside her door.  She looked to make sure there was no one around, then snatched up The Unbound Bride and brought it greedily to bed with her .

Two days later, they were approaching the southern edge of Sardinia, and Annabeth was gazing enviously up at Hazel, who had taken her place in the bird’s nest.

I’m missing out on the view, she whined to herself, and some of her displeasure must have been obvious, because Percy began to chuckle from behind her. She spun and glared at him with all the genuine fury her pathetic little yearning heart could find.

There had been no more kisses since that night beneath the stars –  just soft brushes of his hands against her cheeks, her hair, and her arms. And sometimes, she thought he was considering it, and her whole body would thrum, but then someone would need him, and the moment would pass.

Was he waiting for her to say something? Maybe she was supposed to tell him when she wanted more kisses?

Annabeth had no earthly idea.

He was gathering loose rope into a neat coil, and it highlighted his forearms in a way that was entirely unfair. It cooled her ire, but fanned those other, more worrying flames.

“You’re really upset not to be up there, aren’t you, Wise Girl?”

“I like being able to see everything. Is that a crime?”

“Maybe I should start calling you Little Bird –”

“ – No.”

The ferocity in her voice took them both by surprise. Percy stopped coiling the rope and blinked at her. She covered her mouth with both hands, uncertain of what to say, but unwilling to apologize.

“I just – it’s –”

“You don't have to explain anything to me. Your boundaries are your boundaries, Annabeth.” He shrugged, giving her an understanding half-smile before going right back to his task.

“Hazel says you’ve made plans to steal some Athenian horses together?” He sucked his teeth and then let out a low whistle.

“We’re going to have to figure out how to get two or three horses on board, though. You’ve opened a real Pandora’s jar here, Wise Girl. Because there’s no way Hazel’s going to stop at just one horse – you and I both know that. And we’ll have to figure out how to break into the stables without any explosives, which will make Leo grumpy, so we’ll have to get him some robots to tinker with. And then Grover’s going to start asking for chickens again .”

There wasn’t even a hint of forced levity in his tone as he changed the subject, and Annabeth felt a flood of gratitude towards him.

It made her want to tell him — she wanted him to know her.

“My father used to call me his little owl,” she blurted out before she could talk herself out of it. Percy paused his movements again and tilted his head towards her.

“He always said it was because I belonged in the trees and because I had big eyes, and because I was always so observant. But now I wonder –”

Her voice broke. Percy dropped the rope and stepped beside her. His palms cupped her elbows – warm and solid and reassuring. She tried again.

“Now I wonder if maybe it was because he knew the whole time. That he would be handing me over to the Athena. Maybe he was trying to warn me, in his own way, that he never really planned on keeping me, and all his promises to the contrary were empty.”

Percy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and his palm lingered comfortingly on her cheek.

“I don’t know if I hate him more, or if I pity him more,” he said quietly. “What a fucking coward, letting you slip through his fingers. And what a loss for him.”

Annabeth raised one shoulder in a half-shrug, and looked away, now uncomfortable with the feelings building inside her chest. She’d said too much— she was sure of it.

“Do you think your father has any horses or chickens we could steal? Now that we’re in the market for them? And maybe I could just have a friendly little chat with him while we’re there. Tell him what happens to people who break their promises.”

Her eyes flew up to his, and there was a wicked little smile on his face that softened her sadness into a laugh.

Before she could respond, however, Hazel let out an ear-splitting whistle.

“We’re coming up on siren territory, Captain!” She yelled. Sure enough, they were gliding right past a set of signs.

The first one read:

Do you have your earplugs with you?

And the next:

Siren songs – not even once!

And the third:

Detour —>

And the fourth:

The sirens made that sign. Do not go towards the detour.

“We need to go towards the detour, Percy,” Annabeth said.

“Of course we do,” he groaned.

“It’s in the spirit of –”

“The spirit of the quest. So you’ve said. Don’t worry, I know better than to question you on this, Wise Girl. And besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Not like your schemes have gotten any of us into trouble so far.”

She huffed and put her hands on her hips, making him laugh. Then he bent her ear, and whispered in that raspy, low voice of his, “Don’t you move a muscle, sweetheart. I’ll be right back to tie you up, good and tight.”

Then he stepped abruptly away, shooting Annabeth one last grin at the sight of her frazzled expression before he swept away from her in a whirlwind of commands for his crew.

A few minutes later, the Argo II was gliding towards a veil of mist that hung, eerie and heavy, along the rocky shore.

As promised, Percy had returned, and, at her continued insistence, had agreed to tie her to the main mast rather than the mizzenmast. He’d outright refused to tie her to the foremast, however, much to her irritation.

“It’s not happening, Wise Girl.”

“But –”

“It’s too close to the edge of the ship. If they somehow get you to slip your bonds, I won’t be able to get to you in time. So no.”

“Percy, for the millionth time, I won’t be able to get a good look at them from the main mast. The scholarly value —”

But then his hand had fisted in her hair, and he’d tugged – softly, but insistently.

“You’re not going to win this one, sweetheart,” he rumbled in that tone he only ever used on her. “I don’t give a shit about scholarly value. So, main mast, mizzenmast, or brig. Those are your options.”

“Fine. Main mast.”

“Now I want to hear you say please.”

“Come on, Percy–”

“Nuh-uh. You can do better than that.”

“Please, Captain?”

“That’s a good girl.”

(And, despite all her irritation, she’d just about dissolved at the heated approval glowing in his green eyes.)

That interaction, paired with the deftness with which he’d tied her to the mast made her almost entirely unable to focus on the task at hand.

The way his calloused fingers had brushed against her skin. The feeling that burned through her as he ran them carefully beneath each knot, checking to make sure they weren’t cutting into her, had robbed her of all logical sense.

So now she stood, her arms secured tightly to in front of her (she had complained about her view being impaired by the mast, he had insisted she’d be more comfortable this way), trying and most likely failing to be subtle about the way she was squeezing her thighs together.

Eventually, though, the fetid stench of the mists –  of rot, dead bodies, and decay – grew strong enough that Annabeth’s mind forgot all notions of eroticism, repulsed as she was.

Her heartbeat tripled, and she looked around at her crewmates. All of them had stuffed their ears with beeswax and put on a pair of the protective, over-the-head ear mufflers that Leo had made just for this occasion.

They would be fine.

They would be safe.

They would be —

All thoughts left Annabeth’s head, because there was room for nothing else but the music. The most beautiful music she’d ever heard — so sweet and yet so sad. It was wordless, but she knew, instinctively, that whoever was singing it needed her help.

She pulled against the ropes. They didn’t budge.

Maybe … maybe if she asked someone to untie her … she could reason with her crewmates. They would understand if she explained.

She called out to her friends, but they couldn’t hear her.

She pulled on the ropes again, and they began to chafe at the skin of her wrists, but the knots held strong.

The smell of the mist changed, becoming homey and familiar. Fresh bread, hay, goats, and trees. Then the music shifted – and there was a voice in it.

A voice she recognized was signing to her in a deep, quiet baritone. The same baritone that had sung her favorite lullabies when she couldn’t fall asleep.

“I never meant to let them take you,” the voice was lamenting. “I never meant to let you go. Come back to me, my darling girl. Fly back to me, I love you so.”

Anything.  She would do anything to get back to that voice.

Two rivers of tears began to flow down her cheeks, making it harder and harder for her to breathe.

Then the voice was gone, and the smell was gone, and Annabeth wailed at the loss of them both.

They were replaced by the smell of a sea breeze, and a new voice, soft and kind and feminine. It was a voice that she had never heard before, and yet somehow she knew instinctively belonged to Percy’s mother.

This voice didn’t so much sing as beg.

“Tell him I’m right here, been here the whole time. Please, oh please, tell that little boy of mine. My son is in pain, and he needs me now. Just get yourself free, and I’ll let you know how. Please– just make him listen, just make him see. Then you both together can come and find me.”

There was a shadow of a figure on the rocky shore. A woman with long hair that billowed in the wind. Was that her ? Only a few dozen meters away – just there – right there.

If she could just get free, then she could help Percy. She could rid him of all his pain, and he would be so happy. He would smile at her – a wide and bright and joyful smile, and he would lift her up and spin her around with a laugh and kiss her with his smiling mouth.

She pulled against the ropes, leaning all of her weight back in the hopes that her wrists might just slip free if she used enough force, to no avail. They wouldn’t budge.

“No!” she cried out, as the figure faded back into the mists. “No! Come back! Please, come back!”

Then the world smelled of old books and clean, marble floors. And a cold, clear contralto called out to her from the shadows  – the voice of her darkest nightmares, the voice of all her sweetest dreams. The voice of the woman whose love she’d long wanted above all else.

This voice cajoled.

“Come back to me, child.”

All of the air left Annabeth’s lungs, and she felt for a moment as if she’d been punched.

“My favorite one, come home and take your place here in the sun. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you; it also hurt me. Let me embrace you, and let the world see.”

She became a feral thing, writhing desperately, uncaring of the way the ropes began to cut into her skin.

Her hands were starting to get slick with blood as she yanked – again, and again, and again, and she was almost free, almost there.

But then Percy’s face was there – all wide-eyed horror as he moved to kneel before her and examine her torn wrists. He kissed her shaking, bloody hands, and the sight of her blood staining his lips momentarily distracted her from the Athena’s demands.

In an instant, Percy had grabbed Luke’s knife from her belt and cut her out of her restraints, and, almost immediately, Annabeth tried to make a run for the rocky outcropping. But her sprint was brought to a sudden stop by Percy’s forearm around her waist.

He pinned her against his chest, both of his arms wrapping around her from behind, strong and unbreakable as wrought iron. Even as she kicked and thrashed and dug her nails into the skin of his arms, he didn’t let go.

“She wants me! Let me go! She wants to see me!”

Her screams fell on deaf ears.

Part of her, somewhere in the depths of her mind, knew he was trying to keep her safe and unharmed, and was grateful for it.

But the part of her that was in control right now was all wrath and pain —

He’s taking you away from them! It howled, the perceived betrayal cutting like a knife to the heart.

He turned her in his arms and sank to the ground, pulling her sideways into his lap, trapping both her flailing legs under one of his. With one hand cradling her head and one still wrapped tightly around her torso and upper arms, he pressed her face to the crook of his neck.

She scratched at his biceps, but he merely held her tighter.

She bit rabidly into the tender skin of his neck.

He didn't so much as flinch.

She bit harder, drawing blood.

His fingers began to stroke softly through her hair.

No matter the damage she inflicted, he didn’t move. Instead, he soothed her, cooing and murmuring meaningless platitudes until the Argo II finally slipped out from the mists and back into the clear summer sky.

The second they left the cloud of rot behind, Annabeth’s entire body went limp, and she began to retch.

Percy helped to shift her onto her knees, and his gentle hands collected strands of hair away from her face.

“It's alright,” her favorite voice was saying. “We’re out of there. You’re safe. ”

When there was nothing else left in her stomach, he tucked one arm behind her knees and the other under her shoulders and pulled her up into his arms.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Percy,” she choked out. “Your mother —”

“Shhh, Annabeth. Shhh. Later, okay? Tell me later.”

“But your mother is…”

The words faded away. She was about to tell him that his mother was back there in the mists. That they needed to turn around so that they could find her; that she was so close.

But that didn’t make any sense. Why would his mother be in the Siren’s mist? Or her father, for that matter? Or …

The real Athena would never have said those things to her. Would never truly want her. Annabeth saw the sirens’ songs for what they were — a perfect lure, sweet and cruel lies.  And the hopes she’d nurtured despite her better judgment and in secret since she was a little girl began to wilt in the harsh light of unavoidable truth.

With one hand, he opened the door to her quarters and laid her on the bed; then he went to lock the door and disappeared into the bathroom.

In the few moments he was gone, she found herself slipping into a panic as some still-hypnotized part of her brain worried that he had gone back into the mists without her.

But then he was back, and he brought a warm, damp cloth to her face to wipe the remnants of bile from her lips. She hadn’t even noticed – how utterly humiliating.

“I can do that –” she whispered.

“Just let me take care of you.”

How could she argue when he spoke to her like that? Like he was just as desperate to care for her as she was to be cared for in this moment?

Once her face was clean, he held a water pouch to her lips.

“Small sips,” he murmured, and she obeyed. She hadn’t noticed the sour taste on her tongue until it was washed away. Then he held out a small green disk to her, about the size of a drachma. “Chew on this.”

She took it – recognizing the nausea pill that Will had given her once before. It tasted of mint and honey and chased away any remaining sourness.

“Another few sips.”

She did as he said.

“Good girl.”

Had anything ever sounded as soothing as those two words coming from his mouth? She didn’t think so. They were better than any lies the sirens could weave.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded, pressed an absent kiss to her forehead, and then went over to the desk – collecting the extra gauze and antiseptic that was still sitting atop it.

Carefully, gently, and without a word he cleaned and wrapped her wrists. Only once he was finished did he look at her directly in the eyes. And Annabeth’s heart almost broke at what she saw there.

“Why do you do these things to yourself, Annabeth?” He croaked, his eyes desperately searching her face for some kind of explanation. She had no answers for him – no answers for herself, either.

So instead she said the only thing she knew to be true:

“I don’t want to be alone, Percy.”

The sirens’ call was still there in the back of her mind, like a song that refused to leave her head. If he left her alone she knew she would try to escape back to the mists through the cabin window, and most likely end up hurting herself in the process.

He climbed on top of the bedsheets and curled around her, pressing his chest to her back.

“What do you need?”

“Can— I can still hear them. Can — I need — please— make them go away.”

Her eyes dropped to where his arms wrapped around her waist, and she saw the gouges her nails had made along his skin.

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly.  “I hurt you— I—”

She tried to turn and look at the damage she’d done to his neck, but Percy just tightened his hold.

“I’m alright, Wise Girl. I’m alright.”

“I made you bleed!”

“I don’t mind bleeding for you.”

But he should mind. He should mind. She had hurt him and she was worthless and didn’t deserve his kindness or his care.

“Now stop worrying about my scrapes, you ridiculous girl, and tell me what you need.”

“Your voice,” Annabeth said, in spite of herself.

“My voice?”

“Talk to me. Tell me something. Anything. Just keep talking.”

“How about—“

“The bedsheets! I want to know about the bedsheets.”

“The … bedsheets. Okay? They were my mother’s. A gift to her from my father. Sort of. First, she stole them, then he gave them to her as a gift.”

“Your father?”

He cleared his throat.

“A powerful man. A rich man. Not used to being stolen from. He was utterly charmed by my mother. Fell in love with her, even, which made his wife furious.”

“Oh, no.”

Percy huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she was used to it by then. Anyways, he caught Mom red-handed. Told her she could take the sheets and anything else she wanted if she agreed to spend a night with him first. She liked the look of him and agreed. Took the sheets and an old ship—“

“The Blue Lady?”

“Exactly right. And I was born nine months later.”

“… please tell me I haven’t been sleeping on the bedsheets you were conceived on.”

“Oh, gods no!”

Annabeth blew out a relieved breath.

“These were just some old spares he had sitting in a closet. I was conceived on something much nicer.”

How, in spite of everything, was he still able to make her laugh?

“Is your father still…”

“Alive? Yes. Interested in my existence? Only occasionally.”

That sounded painfully familiar.

“I’ve found I’m usually better off when I keep my distance from him. Generally speaking, he only tries to get in contact when he needs something from me. I did try though, after my mother –”

His voice broke off. For a while, the room was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing.  His thumb began to rub absently at a patch of exposed skin on her stomach, and Annabeth fought against the urge to whine in desperation.

She clung on to her tenuous victory by the skin of her teeth — teeth that were digging painfully into her lower lip.

“After my mother disappeared,” he finally said, his voice strained with the effort of getting the words out and vicious with underlying bitterness.

Annabeth waited for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything more. She could guess what had happened.

“I heard her voice,” she whispered. Mostly to herself, but he would hear her well enough. “Out in the mists. I heard her voice. I know… it wasn’t really her– “

Do you, though? Annabeth winced at the intrusive thought.

“But she – the siren – was trying to call me to shore with your mother’s voice. She was trying to tempt me with the promise that… if I could find her, I could take all your pain away.”

He wasn’t breathing. The hand at her stomach had gone still.

“You want to take my pain away?” His voice was all hoarse disbelief and quiet hope.

She nodded, and he pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“Have I told you how unbelievably sweet you are?” His voice was heavy with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“I thought I was vicious,” she whispered.

The lump in her throat made it hard for her to speak.

“You’re just as sweet as you are vicious. And just as brilliant as you are blind.”

He brushed a line of kisses down the side of her face.

No one but Percy had ever called her sweet – some people had called her smart. A few of her kinder tutors had said she had a sharp mind, a mind for strategy. The head librarian had commended her several times for being responsible and reliable. The 16th Hippocrates had once told her she was promising . Others – the loudest voices – had mostly just called her useless or worthless or savage.

But no one had ever told her she was sweet.

His lips grazed the side of her mouth, and the flat of his palm pressed firmly against her stomach.

She wanted him to keep going. She wanted him to stop. She wanted his hand to travel upwards. She wanted it to move lower.

She was at an impasse, and couldn’t decide which path to choose. So she was grateful when Percy nudged her along.

“Can I kiss your pretty mouth, honey?”

“ Please,” she groaned.

Just like the last time, the kiss was closed-mouthed, but unlike the last time, it was far from chaste. It held the promise of more to come, of hunger that would only grow, and Annabeth found herself making low, lustful noises in the back of her throat.

You’re an embarrassment to self-respecting women everywhere, she scolded herself. But she couldn’t find the will to stop.

He pulled away and moved to whisper in her ear.

“You make such perfect noises for me.”

Let her be an embarrassment then, so long as he kept saying things like that.

“I want to drink them all in, sweetheart. Want to hear all the sounds you make as you come apart for me.”

Please, yes.

She tilted her face towards him, not fighting the whine in the back of her throat as it continued to build, unrestrained. His eyes traced across her face, and he smiled at her indulgently.

“But unfortunately, I think that’s enough for now. You're in no shape for what I have in mind, and I want you to rest.”

He tilted her indignant face back to the bed with one firm finger, and she sighed in frustration.

“Tyrant,” she mumbled. “You’re not allowed to stop talking.”

He chuckled into her hair.

“As you command, Priestess.”

He hummed thoughtfully, then began:

“Let’s see. When I was 15 years old…”

And Annabeth found her eyes drifting shut as Percy told her a story about a trove of golden apples somewhere near the ruins of Troy that had been ripe for the picking.

Chapter 16

Chapter Notes

I realized that I lied to you in my last author's note: this is where I introduce a few OCs.

Also....

*drum roll*

Smut.

Because I love you all <3

She woke in the dim light of dusk to the sounds of a hushed conversation.

“— being followed.”

That was Hazel’s voice.

“Can you identify the sigils?”

She blinked and looked to her left. Percy was no longer beside her on the bed. Her head turned, searching, and she found him sitting at the desk in the corner of the room.

“Looks like an owl—“

The conversation stopped at the sound of her sharp intake of breath, and two pairs of eyes turned towards her.

“We’re being followed by a temple ship?”

“Yes,” Hazel replied with some reluctance. “Two of them.”

Three weeks ago, this would have been a relief, but now everything had changed.  There was ice in her veins where her blood used to be.

“They know I’m onboard?”

“We’re not sure,” she hedged. “We think it’s because of what happened with the Aeneans. It’s also possible you were spotted in Crete or Kythira.”

She looked over at Percy, who was watching her with cautious eyes. She didn’t blame him – her loyalty to them was still new. And, though she hated to admit it, the sirens had proved it to be tenuous, given the right incentives.

“What do we do?”

Her worry wasn’t feigned; she knew what would happen if that ship caught up to them, and it would catch up to them.

“There are hideaways,” he murmured. “We can lay low for a little while.”

“But we only have three weeks to get to the Doors!”

“That still gives us plenty of time.”

“Not if we get stuck on Circe’s island.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not going to Circe’s island.”

“Since when?”

“Since four hours ago!” He snapped.  Then he turned to Hazel, disregarding the fury that was radiating off of Annabeth in waves. “Go tell Jason to set course for the Carthaginian coast. We’re docking in Krymménos.”

She’d never heard of such a place, but the name explained it all. Hidden. Some kind of secret pirate enclave, no doubt.

“Percy, are you sure?” Hazel’s voice was tinged with a mix of surprise and concern. “If we’re seen –”

“I’ll handle it. Nothing we haven’t had to manage before. No more questions, Hazel.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She shot an apologetic look at Annabeth before she left.

Annabeth waited, marinating in her ire, for an explanation that didn’t come. She waited for Percy to lift his eyes from the papers on his desk, but he didn’t.

“If we don’t go to Circe’s island, we most likely won’t be able to find the Doors,” she said. Trying to sound much calmer and more reasonable than she felt.

His hands tightened into fists, crumpling the papers he was holding.

“I know.”

“Then why –”

His eyes finally met hers, and they were pained.

“Because you keep getting hurt, Annabeth. Twice now, we’ve stuck to the “spirit of the quest,” and twice you’ve ended up being hurt.”

“Actually, we’ve done it three times, and I wasn’t hurt at the Temple of Brizo.”

“Brizo is a goddess. Circe is a malevolent sorceress.”

“Who generally targets men, not women. So I should be just fine.”

He groaned and scrubbed at his face.

“Percy,” she cajoled. “Odysseus made it very clear in his instructions. We go see Circe, or we don’t go through the Doors of Death. If we ignore him now, everything we’ve done will have been for nothing.”

He was quiet for several long moments, and then he finally let out a resigned sigh.

“I know you’re right. I just –  I can’t – ” he took in a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

She stood and came around to sit on the edge of the desk. He took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to each of her injured wrists.

“You can’t put all of this at risk just because I got a bit banged up.”

“Watch me,” he rasped.

“Percy —”

“No, Annabeth. I’ve done you enough wrong already. I’m the reason you were kidnapped. I’m the reason you were almost eaten by Scylla. I’m the reason you –” his voice broke off, and his thumbs rubbed against her bandages. “You’ve put your trust in me. And I’m going to take care of you, even if – especially if , you refuse to look after yourself.”

Gods, did he have to be so… so… persuasive all the time?

“Don’t give yourself too much credit – it’s not like you were the first person to kidnap me in the dead of night.”

Annabeth had tried to lighten the mood with her joke, but it fell wholly, sickeningly flat.

“ What?”

The word was a low growl, and it promised all kinds of pain and retribution. He turned burning eyes on her face.

“ Who? Was it that slimy little Aenean fucker? I knew I should have cut off his cock when I had the chance.”

She thought he might have already known. That he would have put the pieces – or maybe that Hazel and Piper would have told him. His shock was a bit of a surprise to her.

“It wasn’t him. And it’s fine, Percy. It was a long time ago.”

He stood up, taking firm hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tightening his grip when she tried to look away.

“Give me a name.”

Her stomach clenched, and she had to fight back a shiver.

“Percy–”

“Annabeth. Give. Me. A. Name.”

Some part of her felt like she should be upset with him for this display. Because this was not the matter at hand – they had other things to worry about at the moment.

But, another part of her – a very prominent part of her – was blooming beneath the fire in his eyes.

She had never been allowed to be angry over what had happened. Had always been punished for her outbursts — the times she howled about how unfair it was, how mean they were, how she wanted to go home. Her anger had been treated as some kind of dirty, ugly thing — a quality of a rabid, unlovable creature.

But here was Percy—  practically vibrating with wrath, not at her, but for her. Percy who’d called her anger beautiful. And all the fury she’d felt towards her father, and her tutors, and temple sisters, and even the Athena over all these years now seemed justified.

His anger made her feel good; it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

“Why?”

“So that I can make them kiss the ground at your feet.”

He stepped between her knees.

“Percy, I–”

“Would you like that? Hmm? My vengeful priestess?”  He placed a soft kiss at the crook of her neck, and she whimpered.

“I- I-”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Just give me a name.”

“I don’t know who– I don’t have a name.”

“Then give me another name. Anyone who wronged you.”

“Sister Olivia.”

That earned her another kiss – and it was bliss, utter bliss to have his lips on her skin.

“And what does she deserve, Wise Girl? Death, pain, or fear?”

“Fear.”

Another kiss. A reward.

“I can make it happen. Give me another one.”

Another kiss, more urgent this time. Annabeth even felt the scrape of his teeth.

“The Athena.”

There was no hesitation when he asked, “and what does she deserve, sweetheart?”

Gods, he would do it, wouldn’t he? If she wanted it, he would find a way to see that she got justice.

“Pain.”

“That’s my girl, just one more. Give me one more name.”

“Tutor Helena.”

“Deserves?”

“Death.”

He let out a low oath, and then suddenly his lips were against hers— hot and insistent. His fingers twisted in her hair and tugged sharply, pulling a gasp from her mouth, and using the opportunity it created to softly slip his tongue between her lips.

She’d never experienced anything like it before. And at first, she stiffened beneath him, but as he continued with his coaxing, gentle movements, she began to yield, letting him fill her mouth as he wished.

It felt… deeply intimate, and slightly transgressive.

An intoxicating combination.

After a moment, she widened her mouth for him just a little bit, savoring the groan of satisfaction that rumbled through Percy’s chest.  He gripped her hair more tightly, tilting her head back to give him better access, and delving into her open mouth with a hunger that left her weak at the knees.

When they broke apart, she was panting – and, she realized with a shock of embarrassment, shifting her hips salaciously against him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and she was both reassured and unsettled to see her own desperation reflected back at her in the blown pupils of his eyes.

“Skies, sweetheart. You’re delicious. Such a soft mouth. Such a good girl for letting me taste it.”

She eyed his mouth hungrily— biting at her lower lip, letting her tongue slip out to taste the remnants of him.

“Again,” she demanded. “More.”

The grin he gave her was all wild and wicked joy.

“Your wish is my command, Priestess.”

When he bent down to bring his mouth to hers again, she melted into him. The only thing keeping her from turning into a puddle at his feet was the hard press of his body against hers and his hands on her lower back and the nape of her neck.

The noise that slipped out of Annabeth’s lips was beyond obscene, and the sound that Percy made in response was doubly so.

This time he was rougher, less questioning, more demanding. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, making her whimper. She returned the gesture— relishing the sensation of his soft lower lip between her teeth.

His fingers had gone from firm to bruising, And Annabeth found herself enjoying the deep sting of them as he moved to grip at her thighs, pulling her until her legs wrapped around his waist and she could feel…

Oh, gods. She could feel him, hard between her legs. In that part of her that was warm and aching and empty —

Annabeth jerked her head back.

“Stop!” she gasped.

He did, and concern replaced the lust that had been so bright in his eyes just moments ago.

“I-I need space.”

He took a reluctant step back, then another, until he was arm’s length away.

Annabeth immediately felt cold— she wanted to fist her hands into his shirt and yank him back, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths instead.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!”

Too much. Tone it down, Annabeth.

“No,” she said again, more calmly this time. “I just— I’m not—ready for— that. “

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Wise Girl. I’ve got all the time in the world, remember? I’m happy with whatever you’ll give me.”

Oh, there went her self-control. She gripped the desk to keep from throwing herself back into his arms.

“I don’t know how to do any of that,” she whispered. “I need more time to study.”

“Alright, Annabeth. You call the shots with this,” he said, gesturing between them.  “If you want more books, we can get you more in Krymménos.”

She’d been sufficiently distracted from their previous topic of debate, but his mention of Krymménos brought it all rushing back.

“So we’re still going off course, then.”

“Yes. That’s not up for debate. Someone on that ship knows where we’re going, and it’s a risk to all of us.”

“And what if we miss our window?”

“Then there’s always next year.”

Next year.

Annabeth pictured herself a year from now, still on the Argo II, and it felt … right.  But then that would mean Percy having to wait another year before he could find his mother. She would find a way to make sure it didn’t come to that.

“Okay.”

“Can I come close again?”

“Yes.”

He moved towards her, and Annabeth quickly closed her legs. It wouldn’t do to have him that close just yet.

“Will you let me touch you?”

“Please,” she breathed.

His fingers threaded in her hair, and all it took was a bit of gentle pressure from his hand for her to tilt her head in the direction he wanted it to go.

“I love how responsive you are. You’re so logical and determined all the time, but then I get you under my hands and…”

He sighed as Annabeth’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You just melt for me. Don’t you, Wise Girl?”

She nodded. There was no denying it; the truth was as plain as day, and the proof was in her body.

“You’re so good, honey. Do you know that?”

She shook her head. There was nothing about her that was good. This interaction just proved what she’d known for almost her whole life.

“Look at me.”

She did.

“You are such a good girl for me. I’m so impressed by you,” he murmured.

Because I’m a weak woman and I let you ravish me?

He must have seen the doubt in her eyes.

“You’re setting your boundaries. Telling me what you need. Letting yourself trust me.”

He shook his head as if in amazement.

“It’s more than I deserve.”

He said it all with so much certainty that a small part of her couldn’t help but believe it, and she felt the most tightly coiled parts of her soul relax under his gentle praise.

Her thighs took on a mind of their own and began to inch apart again; there was very little she could do – or wanted to do – to stop them. Percy noticed and put a warm hand just above her knee, but then he only brushed a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back away.

“I’ve got to go check our bearings. I’ll be up top if you need me. Have Will look at your wrists, please?”

“Alright.”

Her voice was breathless – wanting. He smiled at the sound of it, and then he was gone, leaving Annabeth to deal with the aftermath of his attention all on her own.

Something she’d gotten quite good at.

“What if we set a trap?” Frank suggested the next morning. “We’ve got some allies in Krymménos. If we leave a trail—-“

Leo immediately perked up at the suggestion.

“I could rig a giant net! Or maybe a bomb? I haven’t done a bomb in a while. Would be nice to do a bomb again…”

His voice dazedly trailed off, as if he was lost in some happy little daydream.

She looked to Percy, who was watching her.

“What do you think, Wise Girl?”

She nodded.

If they were able to lay a trap for the temple ship, they would be able to get to Circe’s island all the more quickly. There would be a better chance of making their window for the Doors of Death.

“A trap. Then we won’t have to keep looking over our shoulders. And we won’t have to stay hidden for long.”

She knew the temple ships well enough to know their weaknesses. Knew their carrying capacity and their defenses.

She flicked her eyes to Frank.

“Tell me about your allies.”

Annabeth grew more and more agitated the closer they got to Krymménos. Even with their new plan, they were going to add at least a week to their journey – cutting their arrival to the Doors of Death far too close for comfort.

She understood why it needed to be done, their sudden, late-night shift in direction had successfully thrown the temple ship off of their trail for the time being, giving them a head start. But that didn’t make it any easier. Percy seemed to understand her irritation because he didn’t push her to accept it or try to curb her frustration. He just let her be upset about it without judgment.

The more agitated she got, however, the more constant his attention became.

Something had shifted between them. He’d stopped keeping any sort of distance and was constantly finding reasons to touch her. Little touches, but far from innocuous; each one clearly possessive. If their… connection hadn’t been obvious to the Argo crew already, it was now.

He trailed his fingers against her wrists, her neck, and her back whenever he had the chance. Kissed her absently on the forehead after his usual check for sunburn and blisters. Murmured a hushed command to “drink a little bit more water for me, sweetheart. That’s a girl,” when no one else could hear.

The first few times it had happened, the interaction had put her on edge. But then, when their friends didn’t react  — not even so much as a look from Will or Piper, that anxiety disappeared. There was nothing wrong or out of the ordinary to them about the way that Percy treated her, and it showed in their lack of response.

When she asked about it, he’d shrugged and said, “I threatened them with a month of latrine duty if they made you feel uncomfortable. It will last a good week or so.”

So she started to let herself lean into his touch, just a little bit, and the sound of approval he made each time she did so made it well worth the twinge of embarrassment she felt.

He also began to train with her, insisting that she needed to learn to fight against a larger opponent. And the constant press of him against her – the feeling of his hands on her hips as he adjusted her stance, along with the words of praise and encouragement that fell from his lips–

“That’s it Annabeth.”

“You’re doing great. Just a little longer. Give me two more.”

“Gods, you’re bloodthirsty. Aren’t you, honey?”

–were going to make her insane. She was constantly having to deal with the effect he had on her; making some pathetic excuse for why she needed to rush back to her quarters for just a few minutes to slip her fingers along herself until she could think again.  But even after she’d brought herself relief, she was still left wanting, and the fix was only ever temporary.

After a few days of utter torture, she finally snapped, turning on him in a whirl of frustration after only their second-ever training session.

(Humiliating. It was humiliating and she was a pathetic, panting hussy of a woman.)

“You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you?”

The answering grin on his face – knowing, teasing, obscene — made her temper flare.

“Why keep driving me mad if you’re not going to do anything about it?” She whisper-shrieked, jabbing her forefinger into his chest.

He caught her hand and placed a long, lingering kiss at the center of her palm before responding.

“I’d love to do something about it, Wise Girl. You just need to ask me nicely.”

And there was no way in Tartarus she would do that.

Oh gods, she so badly wanted to do that.

So the tension grew, and grew, and grew, and yet it still found no resolution.

And when they finally pulled into what had originally looked like an impenetrable cliff but turned out to be a hidden cove along the Carthagian coastline, Annabeth was just about ready to explode.

Their boat ride to the shore in the dinghies certainly didn’t help matters.

As they all stepped off the dock and into the wild hustle of the streets of Krymménos, Percy kept one hand against her waist, tugging her towards him in a show of possessiveness that made her equal parts angry and desperate.

He wore the brim of his hat low, keeping his face half hidden, and, as they walked, quickly and quietly, they kept to the shadows and back alleyways.

“Stick close, Annabeth,” he whispered into her ear. With an indignant huff, she yanked herself free of his hold. She would have stomped away from him out of sheer spite if it hadn’t been for the tension written into every line of his body.

Annabeth wondered what they had to hide from. How many people here had they stolen from, in one way or another? How many crowds of enemies were they wading into?

“What’s the point of teaching me to fight if you’re just planning to keep me on a leash?”

He tilted his head towards her and the corners of his mouth curled up.

“A leash, huh? Now where on earth did you get an idea like that?”

She growled under her breath about “self-satisfied, overly-sexual, lust-addled fiends.”

Her bad mood was mitigated (somewhat) by the strange new world around her.

The port of Krymménos was a fascinating mix of exorbitant wealth and profound poverty. On one street, the buildings were trimmed in gold, and along another, they were nothing more than tin-roofed lean-tos.

The roads were muddy and wet from a combination of seawater and alcohol and gods know what else. Gulls dove at unsuspecting passersby, snatching any unprotected food from their fingers.

And the people they passed were fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. Men with long beards and only one eye. Women in low-cut, tight-fitting dresses that put their figures on full display.

(Maybe a dress like that would drive Percy as mad as he made her. If she ever felt brave enough to wear it.)

People of no particular gender with knives strapped to every inch of their bodies. People dressed from head to toe in armor, practically dripping with swords, their faces obscured by gleaming brass helmets.

There were crowds gathered around gambling stalls, people fighting in the street, drunkards stumbling from one building to another, and children playing tag.

They passed an alleyway where two people were… copulating – out in the open. Their sordid noises loud enough for anyone to hear.

Percy caught her eye, giving her a little wink.

“Quit it,” she hissed back, baring her teeth in frustration, and his eyes grew bright at the fury and defiance in her tone.

The inn, located at the edge of town, was small and dark, but it was also quiet and clean-smelling. Percy reserved all five available rooms, giving the innkeeper a bit of extra gold and a quick glimpse at Riptide to pay for his silence. Then he began to lead her towards one without so much as a ‘by your leave.’

Oh, she was going to kill him.

She pulled her hand out of his, and he came to a stop just in front of her.

“What makes you think I want to share a room with you ?” she spat.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, then. Who would you prefer to share with?”

She shot a desperate look over at Will, who took three immediate steps backwards, holding up his hands.

“Nuh-uh, Annabeth. I’m not about to get involved with all your–” he gestured towards them both “–foreplay. And besides, I’ve got plans.”

Then he followed Nico down the hallway, disappearing behind a door with him. She felt a momentary flash of joy for the two of them, followed immediately by a selfish stab of betrayal.

She looked at Piper, who just laughed and pulled Jason into their room.

Leo and Grover had already picked the only room with two beds. And Hazel and Frank had vanished the moment they had a key in their hands. She’d distinctly heard Hazel purr something about getting Frank on his knees.

And so she was left alone in the hallway with Percy, who crossed his arms and cocked his head towards the last remaining open door.

“Fine,” she growled and pushed past him into the little room beyond. Like the rest of the inn, it was dark and cramped, but clean.

The second her satchel hit the floor, Percy had her up against the wall, both of her hands pinned above her head in one of his.

“Your temper’s been getting the better of you these past few days, hmm? Why don’t you just tell me what you need, Wise Girl,” he rasped.

She shook her head vehemently. His other hand came up and gently cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking against her cheek. Then he bent and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You can do this. Tell me what you need.”

And it was all such a shocking contrast to the squall of irritation inside her that the fight drained right out of her. What she needed was wrong. Was bad and wrong and disgusting and impure, but gods, she needed it just the same.

She let out a sob of desperation, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Be brave, my wild girl. Come on.”

“I need — you — to — touch me.”

It was a battle to get each word to leave her mouth, but she did it.

Then he was pressing frantic kisses to every inch of her neck, his whole body pushing against her, one hand cradled in her hair and the other gripping at her waist.

“So good,” he murmured between each kiss. “So good. So good. So good.”

It wasn’t enough.

“More,” she whined. “ Please .”

“Tell me where you want my hands,” he coaxed, and she tried— gods, she tried— but the words won’t come out.

“Tell me, Annabeth.” His voice was a low croon. Soft and honeyed and insistent. “Do you want my hands on your tits? Your nipples look like they’re just begging to be touched.”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please— Percy. Touch my— my— touch me there please.”

He smiled at her, and there was pride and pleasure in his eyes. Then he brought his hands up to cup her breasts.

“Oh!” The sound of pleasure and surprise rips from her throat, and it’s embarrassingly loud.

But it felt so better than she could have ever imagined, just that one warm touch.

“Shhh, honey.”

His thumbs brushed — just barely, just glancingly — against her shirt, right above the peaks of her nipples.

“So good,” he murmured. “So perfect.”

Then he lifted one hand and, carefully, as if he was trying not to spook her, rolled the bud between his fingers.

She was gone. She was done. She was over. There was nothing else left for her now but this, the feeling of his hands on her.

Of their own volition, her hips began to grind against his upper thigh, and he groaned into her hair before wedging his leg more firmly between hers.

“That’s right. Take what you need.”

His mouth descended on hers, his tongue slipping between her lips and laving against her own. He was unrelenting— alternating between deep caresses and gentle, barely there brushes, leaving her head spinning and her fingers clawing at his shirt.

There was a pressure mounting low in her stomach. She pulled her head back and tried uselessly to catch her breath

“ Percy, ” she moaned.

“Are you gonna come on my thigh, honey?”

“I can’t — I don’t know if I can—like this—”

“That’s okay. Does it feel good?”

She nodded.

“Then that’s what matters for now. You can teach me the rest later.”

His mouth was back on hers, and Annabeth had never felt more like she belonged so wholly to another person than when his tongue found hers again. Her hips were still shifting frantically against his muscled thigh, and the pressure was so sweet and —-

Her breathing was coming faster and faster, and the most desperate, lurid whimpers were escaping from between her lips.

He moved his mouth to her ear.

“I think you’re about to come apart just from fucking my thigh, sweetheart.”

Nothing, nothing, sounded as temping and dangerous as his voice did at the moment. It was more powerful than any siren song.

“N-no—”

“Yes, you are. Don’t lie to me, Annabeth. You’re gonna be my good girl. Aren’t you?”

“I- I —”

But she had never — never like this— and it was strange and different and she wasn’t quite sure if…

But then he pressed himself more firmly against her, and one hand moved to her hair and pulled at the strands (she would have keened at the loss of contact on her breast but that sharp tug felt so gods damned good). And then he buried his face into her neck, and he began to groan the most terrible things into her tender skin —

“Use me, Annabeth. Use me to get what you need.”

Oh.

“Let go for me—“

Oh.

“So desperate, aren’t you?”

It was going to happen.

“That’s right. Rub that sweet little cunt against me.”

She’d never heard anything so filthy or so delicious in her entire life.

Then he bit at her neck and pinched her nipple— hard.

And suddenly she was cresting that wave of pleasure, then tumbling, falling, careening into the waves below.

And she knew she was being too loud, that someone would be able to hear her, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She wasn’t in control of herself anymore.

When she finally came back to herself, her head was resting against his chest and his hands were running through her hair.

“So good, sweetheart,” he murmured. “So proud of you — taking what you needed. You’re so perfect.”

Her whole body stiffened as she realized what she’d just done. Her face turned beet red, and when he tried to look her in the eyes, she refused to meet his gaze.

“Hey," he cooed. “Hey, hey. None of that. No shame, Wise Girl. There will never be any shame between us, okay?”

“But I— that was wrong, Percy. I was deviant . I was lustful and..."

“Beautiful, Annabeth. And perfect. And amazing. I need you to trust me right now, okay? Not that voice in your head that tells you everything you want is wrong and bad, but me .”

She nodded. Okay. She could do that. He’d more than earned her trust.

“I need to hear it.”

“Okay. I’ll trust you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“Go get washed up. Do you want to share the bed or should I sleep on the floor?”

The way he said it— like he wouldn’t mind her choosing either option — made her heart clench.

“You can share the bed with me.”

“Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

It wasn’t until she was in the washroom that she realized he hadn’t tried to reach his own release. Wasn’t that unusual?

He’d been… erect. She’d felt it. But he didn’t even try to… well…

Maybe she should ask? Would he be upset if she didn’t reciprocate? Or… maybe not upset but disappointed?

But after she got back, he brushed a kiss against her lips and left to wash himself, too. Then, when he returned, he curled around her, let out a great, contented yawn, and, in a sleepy mumble, asked, “D’you think dolphins are nicer than whales?”

“Dolphins are notoriously violent animals.”

“Huh. Okay. G’night, Wise Girl,” he mumbled into her hair. And Annabeth found herself slipping into sleep right beside him, unable to keep her eyes open even a moment longer under the warm, comforting weight of his heavy arm

Chapter 17

Chapter Notes

CW: Periods, and trauma surrounding periods, and all of the things that periods entail.

Thanks as always to you all, my lovely and wonderful readers!!! All your interactions with my story make me so so happy. Give that goblin in my brain the dopamine hit it craves.

Side note: Anyone else ever have one of those "ohh, that explains my behavior of the past few days," moments? Because I sure as hell have.

There was blood on her clothes.

There was blood on her thighs .

There was a sound of breaking glass as the cup she’d been holding slipped out of her fingers and shattered on the tile floor below.

In theory, she understood what was happening. Her uterus had begun to shed its lining. The process would continue for several days.  But the problem was that this had never happened to her before. It wasn’t supposed to be happening now.

Something was horribly wrong. Her body felt off. Almost like her muscles couldn’t relax— there was a tightness and a soreness that shouldn’t be there.

Because priestesses of the Athena didn’t menstruate.

There was a knock at the bathroom door.

“Annabeth?” Percy sounded worried.

“I’m fine. Can you—“

Oh, gods, this was embarrassing. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye ever again.

“— can you get Piper or Hazel for me, please?”

His footsteps retreated from the door, and a few moments later, there was the sound of more footsteps, a hushed conversation, and then another knock.

“Annabeth? It’s Hazel—"

“— and Piper.”

She stepped carefully around the broken glass, opening the door just barely enough to let them slip inside, keeping herself angled away.

Once the door clicked shut, she turned back towards them.

“Something’s wrong with me,” she whispered, gesturing vaguely downwards.

They saw the stain and shared a look of confusion.

“Annabeth, it’s just your monthly bleed,” Piper said, concern lacing her voice.

“I know what it is. I just don’t know why it’s happening to me. Priestesses of the Athena don’t bleed!”

Hazel’s brows knit together.

“Did you run out of Maidensroot?”

Annabeth’s blank face must have said it all because Piper and Hazel looked at one another wide-eyed.

“Maybe you know it by a different name? It’s what we take to stop our cycles. I’ve got some extra back on the ship. And I’m sure the innkeeper will have some stocked.”

Annabeth shook her head vigorously.

“You don’t understand. I don’t take anything. We just…”

But that made no sense, physically speaking. Did it? She’d just never questioned it— it was always a stated fact.

“This is something that happens to others, but not to you.”

“You won’t have to worry about this. It doesn’t apply to you.”

“Menstruation won’t be a concern for you.”

Why had she never bothered to ask what the reason was? It was entirely possible that she’d been ingesting… what was it called? Maidensroot? All her life without ever even knowing.

She wouldn’t put it past them. Those who didn’t bleed could never conceive. Could never bring shame to their fellow Scholars with the polluted reminders of reproduction and all that it entailed. And if they took away her autonomy in the process? Well, it was just an added benefit.

As she looked dazedly between Hazel and Piper, a lethal combination of fury, indignation, embarrassment, and grief began to form a vortex in her chest.

“What do I do?” Her voice shook.

“Don’t worry, Annabeth. Alright? I’ll go get you some spare supplies and a change of clothes,” Piper reassured her, putting a comforting hand on Annabeth’s shoulder before slipping out the door.

“Are you in any pain?” Hazel asked.

Annabeth nodded, and her hand drifted to her lower stomach. She knew that people often felt pain during monthly bleeds, but this kind of deep, dull discomfort was so completely disconcerting that it was making the vortex in her chest even worse.

“I’ve got something that will help with that. And we’ll see if we can find you some Maidensroot and a hot water bottle for tonight. I’ll be right back, okay? Just hold tight.”

Then Annabeth was alone in the bathroom once again, trying to parse apart the parts of herself that she knew were true, and the parts of herself that had been nothing but lies. Where was the line between them, and was there any way for her to know its exact location before she stumbled over it again?

She could hear an urgent, whispered conversation through the wood before Hazel’s footsteps receded. Then there was a muffled thump against the door.

“Are you okay?”

For a moment, Annabeth considered ignoring his presence altogether. Eventually, he would get the hint and leave. But she didn’t want to be alone. More than that, she didn’t want to be untethered – and Percy was the best tether she knew.

“Not exactly.”

“Please, can I come in— ”

Oh, gods. She couldn’t let him see her like this. Never. Not ever .

“It’s not your problem, Percy. I’m just being stu– foolish.”

She could practically hear his jaw clenching through the door.

“First of all,” he rasped, his voice low and tight. “Anything that upsets you this much is my problem, Annabeth. And second of all, I don’t like the way you talk about yourself. We’re going to work on that.”

That brought her up short.

“Alright,” she muttered, and he sighed.

“Will you please tell me why you’re not okay?”

She considered saying no. If she asked him to, he would leave her alone. Then she could fester in her resentment until Piper and Hazel returned, and fester some more once they left.

But what good would that do her?

“I’m upset because I don’t like being kept in the dark. And I’ve just realized that I’ve been lied to my whole life about my own body, and I don’t know if I’m angry at them for keeping secrets or at myself for being so ignorant.”

Percy was quiet on the other side of the door.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and it sounded like true sadness on her behalf, rather than empty pity. Annabeth hadn’t realized just how much she was dreading having him pity her until that moment.

Well, maybe it was because he couldn’t see the evidence of her shame.

“ Menstrual blood,” she could remember her tutor of the hysterical sciences saying, “ is unclean. One must never touch it if one can avoid it. Especially not a sacred Scholar Priestess.”

And then suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to her.

“Did I… Percy, the sheets…”

She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. Oh, gods. She was beyond mortified.

“It is a symptom of lusting wombs. Dirty, polluted things.”

But his reply was calm and warm and free of any judgment.

“I’ll take care of it, okay? It's not a problem.”

She groaned and hid her face in her hands. Her embarrassment hung heavy in the air, even with the door between them.

“It’s just a bit of blood, sweetheart. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Just a bit of blood.

He sounded as if he genuinely meant it.

When she didn’t respond, he said, “In fact, given my choice of profession and predilection for vengeance, I’m the best man for the job. I know some trade secrets, you see. I can get blood out of just about anything.”

She laughed without meaning to. And when Hazel and Piper returned to the door a moment later, she found she was feeling a little better than she had when they left.

“Make yourself useful, and go get her something sweet to eat,” Piper ordered their captain before closing the door behind her.

They plied her with pain medicine and fresh clothes, as well as clean fabric scraps to soak up the blood.

She showered while they waited outside the door, and then Hazel showed her how to use cold water to wash out the stains and explained how to make Maidensroot tea.

She’d brought up a cup of it, and the bitter taste was disturbingly familiar. Annabeth had drank it every morning with breakfast since she was eleven.

Piper cleaned up the broken glass and then brushed and braided the tangled mess of Annabeth’s hair as she tried not to cry into her tea.

By the time they were finished, the world seemed a little brighter and a bit more bearable.

“Thank you,” she whispered to them and was almost immediately sandwiched into a warm embrace.

“Monthlies are awful – especially the first time. We’ve been there,” Piper said with a small shrug.

“Besides,” Hazel added, “this is just what sisters do.”

Sisters. Real, true, honest to Artemis sisters. Not in name, but in sentiment.

And Annabeth knew then and there that she would kill for these two women.  The temple ships posed a threat to them, and she would see those ships and all their passengers sink into the darkest depths of the sea before she let them even get close to… her sisters.

When she returned to her room, the bed was freshly made, and Percy was standing near the door with a plate of small honey cakes.

“Giving me cake for breakfast, Captain? You’re a terrible influence.”

She tried to put on a brave face, tried to smother her sadness under well-fortified good humor, but he seemed to see right through it.

“Who, me? Never. ”

He put the plate down on a small side table and reached out to her. It was as easy as breathing to step into his embrace and rest her head on his chest.

“Rough morning, honey,” he said softly as he gathered her to him. “Are you still up for this? We can head to the next port town and wait out the storm.”

“If we don’t stop these ships now, they’re not just going to give up. The Athena won’t let me go that easily.”

There was a long, stilted silence as he considered her words, and Annabeth realized she might have said too much.

“You’re just one priestess. Why go to all the trouble?”

On the surface, his question sounded casual. But Annabeth knew him well enough to catch the tension just beneath it. She wasn’t sure how to answer him. She didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell the truth, either.

So she landed on a half-truth.

“It’s not just about me though. It’s a matter of pride.”

When Percy pulled back to study her face, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he finally murmured, and he brought her head back to his chest.

She sighed— half relieved, half disappointed.

“I’m sorry I caused so much trouble this morning.”

“Annabeth, I’ve seen you cause trouble. That wasn’t trouble.”

She couldn’t help but let out a tiny little laugh into his shirt.

“It’s just… I think I’m realizing how many of my choices have been taken away from me my whole life. When you control the knowledge someone has access to, it’s not hard to make them do whatever you want.”

His arms around her tightened.

“I contributed to that,” he whispered, his voice pained. “I took away a choice from you.”

Annabeth considered her next words carefully.

“You also gave me back my choices, Percy. I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I’m here with you. I would do it again.”

Percy didn’t reply, but he did relax.

They stayed like that for a little while longer, until the sound of her stomach brought them both back up for air.

“You need to eat.”

He picked up a honey cake and brought it to her lips. Annabeth’s body went hot.

“Is this okay?” He asked, and concern flashed briefly in his eyes.

“Yes. But I think I’ll need something more substantial and less decadent. Something with cheese. And maybe olives?”

Percy grinned down at her.

“We'll find you some real food, sweetheart. But… just indulge a little for me, hmm?”

She capitulated easily, and bit down as delicately as she could into the proffered cake. The sweetness was so instantly soothing that it made her sigh.

She took another bite and then finished off the cake with a third.

“More?” Percy asked.

“Yes, please.”

The next one tasted floral. As if the innkeeper had somehow distilled the scent of lavender into a flavor. Annabeth let out a surprised, pleased little sound as she bit into it.

“ Skies,” Percy breathed, and when Annabeth‘s eyes darted up, she was met by his heavy, heated, focused attention.

“Wha’?” She tried to ask with as much dignity as possible.

“I just like seeing you enjoy yourself, sweetheart.”

She swallowed the last of the cake, her heart pounding too loudly and echoing in the caverns of her ribcage.

“Open your mouth for me,” he murmured.

She obeyed, and Percy put a finger on her parted lips. instinctively, her tongue darted out to taste the honey sticking to his skin.

He made a low sound of approval, and watched her intently as she licked and sucked the sticky sweetness — first from his index finger, then his thumb.

“Good girl,” he rumbled. His hand moved to cradle her cheek and the other curled around her hip. Then he leaned down, kissing the remnants of honey from her lips before delving his tongue between them, and Annabeth yielded her mouth up to him with a moan.

The kiss quickly grew frantic, his grip on her hip became desperate and near bruising. She wanted more. Needed more. Maybe this time she would get to—

But whatever fever they were about to spiral into was interrupted by a brisk knock at the door.

“We’re gonna be late,” said Jason. “Gotta get moving before the early drunks show up.”

Percy’s forehead fell to her shoulder. Then, as if he’d completely forgotten why he stopped kissing her lips, his mouth went to her collarbone, and he started to lick across it and up her neck.

Annabeth tilted her head to give Percy easy access to the sensitive expanse of skin, and she felt a very strong urge to ask Jason for just five more minutes. She wasn’t sure what exactly she and Percy might be able to accomplish in those five minutes, but she had faith.

But then Jason knocked again—  less briskly, more impatiently.

Percy lifted his lips from her with a frustrated growl, and Annabeth whined at the loss.

“She won’t wait forever, Percy! Not even for you.”

Jason sounded more amused than annoyed.

“Fine!” Her captain snapped, clearly irritated. Annabeth tried not to smile.

He took a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said again, more calmly. “We’ll be right there.”

The Argo crew wove their way through a loud and smoke-filled pub named The Liar’s Tongue.

Jason had leaned over and told her the owner was “well known for cutting out the tongues of anyone who goes back on their deals or cheats at cards.”

No wonder Percy liked them.

Despite the fact that it was only just past noon, the place had already filled with people who were quite obviously inebriated.

One or two patrons had looked at her with a little too much interest as they made their way towards an innocuous door near the back. They had averted their eyes almost immediately, however, once they caught sight of Percy’s menacing expression.

Annabeth heard him mumbling something to himself about “men who don’t deserve to keep their eyes in their heads” as he pulled her closer to him.

“Keep your head low, Wise Girl,” he rasped into her hair. “We don’t know who might have seen your face before, and I’d rather not have to kill anyone before our business is done.”

Piper pushed open the door and waved them all into a dimly lit back room.

If there was anywhere best suited for clandestine meetings, Annabeth supposed this was it. It was a shadowed place, with low ceilings, dark wood, and thick curtains.

There were a few chairs, but not enough for everyone to sit, so most of the Argo crew stayed standing.

The woman who swept into the room just a few moments after they’d all settled was tall and commanding. Her dark hair was swept up into a tight braid; her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, and her glare was even sharper.

She carried several daggers and, to Annabeth’s utter amazement, a spear. Was that just for show or did she really need to spear people in her establishment on a regular basis?

And at her heels stood two lean dogs, whose stances projected a dire warning to anyone who so much as looked at their master wrong.

She was terrifying. The kind of person who looked not only as if she belonged in this world, but like this world belonged to her. In other words, she was everything Annabeth wanted to be.

“Not that I mind having you all here,” she said, her eyes moving from one face to the next. “But your presence usually spells—“

Her eyes landed on Annabeth.

“—trouble.”

The dogs let out a low growl, and Annabeth took a step closer to Grover.

“You’re not exactly… entirely wrong. We could use your help.”

She raised an eyebrow at Percy.

“I saw your new crewmate’s face not that long ago. On a wanted poster. Not helping you could fetch me a pretty sum.”

Annabeth stiffened, but nobody else seemed overly concerned. Her eyes flitted to Will, who was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, then to Nico, who was watching Reyna with a look of cool affection. If even Nico liked this woman, then Annabeth was sure she could trust her.

Maybe her threat was an empty one?

“You’re gonna drive a hard bargain then, Reyna?” There was a reassuringly humorous lilt to Percy’s voice as he asked the question. “What do you want in exchange?”

“I want to know what you’re after. Must be worth quite a lot if you came here for help. Maybe more, if you haven’t turned her in yet.”

Hazel snorted, shooting Reyna a wide grin. Percy’s smile was less enthusiastic, but it wasn’t forced.

“We are trying,” he began, slowly, “to find the Doors of Death. I intend to ask Hades a favor.”

Reyna rolled her eyes as if she found the idea ridiculous, but her body was as tight as a bowstring. She was interested, Annabeth could tell.

“You’re chasing after a children’s story?”

“More like I’m chasing after the last bit of hope I have left.”

Reyna’s face softened in understanding. She knew, then, what had happened to his mother. For whatever reason, the idea made Annabeth’s hackles rise.

Percy continued, “We need to get to Circe’s island –”

For just one heartbeat, Reyna’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. Then her mask of nonchalance was back, so quickly that Annabeth wondered if she’d imagined the sudden change.

“Fine,” she snapped, interrupting Percy mid-sentence. “I want in.”

“In?”

“On the quest. My people and I will help you in return for half the loot and a spot aboard the Argo II.”

Percy’s mouth quirked up into a relieved smile. He looked like he’d been hoping to hear exactly those words.

“Just you? What about Aurum and Argentum?”

His gaze dipped down to the dogs at her heels.

“Someone needs to stay and watch the bar. Besides, I know they scare you.”

Percy’s smile broadened, and he only deliberated for a second before sticking his hand out to her.

“Welcome aboard then, Reyna. We’ve missed you.”

She grasped his palm and shook, giving Percy the kind of look that communicated some shared understanding that Annabeth was not privy to.

Not that it bothered her, of course. Annabeth wasn’t tied to Percy, and he wasn’t tied to her. She was… how had he put it? Using him as a test subject. To gain experiential knowledge. To expand her horizons. Nothing more.

Okay, maybe a little bit more. Because they were also … friends.

Regardless, the point still stood. She had no claim over him. And so Annabeth wasn’t jealous.

Then Percy turned towards her, beckoning her across the room, and her feet obeyed.

“Reyna, this is our Annabeth. Annabeth, this is Reyna, the proprietor of this pub and one of the most terrifying people ever to sail the Empire’s seas.”

Annabeth shook Reyna’s hand, keeping her expression as bland as she possibly could and refusing to let any of her entirely inconvenient. utterly illogical feelings show.

“Alright, Wise Girl,” Percy said, resting his hand lightly on small of her back. “What’s the plan?”

Chapter 18

Chapter Notes

Content warning for this one -- violence, violence, and more violence. And blood. And limbs getting cut off. And killing. I should really update the tags, tbh. Let me do that real quick.

It took a few hours of negotiations, but Annabeth had finally gotten everyone (including Reyna, who’d been eyeing her with no small amount of distrust) to agree to her plan.

It wasn’t overly complex – and not nearly as ridiculous as the whip-around had been, which definitely helped matters. And it wasn't too dissimilar to how they had taken down Octavian's fleet.

There were two temple ships on their trail. For the speed at which they’d been traveling, they must each have been equipped with a powerful engine. The engines were heavy, which would limit the number of weapons and people onboard each vessel.

Her estimate? About twenty people per ship— one of whom would likely be Scholar Priestess. They would be outnumbered, but not terribly so. And Reyna had volunteered a dozen of her companions to strengthen their numbers, for which Annabeth was grateful.

They would set the Argo II out along the coast as a decoy, with part of the crew, including Annabeth, aboard. Then, while the Argo II was boarded by the temple guards, Reyna and her crew, along with Nico and Leo, would quietly sabotage the temple ships.

Half of any loot would be Reyna’s to take, and one of the ships as well.

The whole plan depended on one variable. And that might have caused her no small amount of anxiety, except for the fact that said variable was as constant as the rising and setting sun:

The Athena’s hubris, and the hubris of her acolytes.

Nevertheless, as the pale sliver of the moon rose in the sky above them, Annabeth was cataloging every possible thing that could go wrong when Percy came to stand beside her.

Up above their heads, a white flag fluttered in the breeze, signaling their apparent surrender to the Athena’s forces. It would hold meaning for the temple ships, even if it had no significance for those aboard the Argo.

He put a steady hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently, sending a rush of relief through her too-bare limbs.

She was dressed in her temple attire again, and her chiton felt awkward and uncomfortable now that she was used to the protection provided by her new clothes.

“You have your knife well hidden, Wise Girl?”

She nodded and patted at her side. She’d made a secret pocket at her hip, big enough to hold her knife and easily accessible, but not noticeable unless one knew what to look for. It was important that their enemies not see her as a threat until it was too late.

“Good.”

Somewhere along the coast, three small dinghies lay in wait. She didn’t try to look for them – Percy had explained how the network of caves was nearly impossible to see from the water, and even more impossible to navigate for those who didn’t already have an intimate knowledge of their secrets.

For whatever reason, he had an intimate knowledge of their secrets.

“What is this place to you, Percy?” She murmured, thinking of the speed and stealth with which they’d left their temporary hideaway.

After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke.

“One of my father’s territories,” he admitted. “I usually avoid it if I can.”

One of his father’s territories? What did that even mean?

“Your father, the powerful man who doesn’t like to be stolen from.”

“Yes.”

“Is he also a pirate?”

“I guess you could say that.”

She growled in frustration, which made his lips turn up into a small smile. He tangled his hand in her hair, tugging until she had no choice but to tilt her head up and meet his eyes.

“How about a fair trade, Wise Girl? An answer for an answer.”

“Fine.”

“And since I’ve already given you two –”

“Two! Those don’t count!”

“ – I’ll start.”

She huffed but didn’t argue. A decision she regretted almost immediately when he asked: “What did you mean when you said I wasn’t the first person to kidnap you?”

If Percy hadn’t chosen that moment to slide one hand around her waist and press his palm firmly to her lower back, Annabeth would have made a hasty retreat. As it was, however, there was no escape route left to her.

So she collected the scraps of her thoughts and her courage and considered the best way to answer his question.

It took a few moments. He didn’t seem to mind.

“When I was seven years old, the Athena sent her collectors to come and get me. They pulled me from my bed, dragged me past my father, who had opened the door for them, and brought me to the Scholar City.”

There. A quick and (almost) painless statement of facts.

“You were so young,” he whispered. Annabeth looked away from the grief in his eyes; it was too similar to her own.

“And he just let them take you?”

“Yes.”

She tried not to sound bitter, and she failed. His hold on her tightened.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because it was easier for him. Because he didn’t know how to keep me. Because he didn’t want to keep me. Because I wasn’t worth the effort. Take your gods damned pick.”

His hand released her hair and went to the front of her neck. He squeezed it gently, possessively, and Annabeth felt the storm inside her begin to calm.

“Not that, sweetheart. I don’t care about your spineless father’s excuses for his cowardice. He’ll answer for them, one way or another. But I doubt that’s how other Scholar Priestesses are recruited, Annabeth. So why?”

“Why are you hiding who your father is?”

His chest rumbled with disapproval, but he answered her curt question.

“My father is known to the world by one name and one name only.”

She waited. Percy’s gaze went to the horizon as he said, “He calls himself Poseidon.”

Annabeth’s sharp intake of breath was too loud.

“You’ve heard of him.”

“Poseidon,” she breathed. “As in the… the Pirate King?”

Or maybe he meant the god, Poseidon, which, honestly might scare her less.

Because there wasn’t a single soul in the Hellas Empire who hated the Athena and her priestesses more than the Pirate King of the Aegean Sea, a man who maintained he was a direct descendant of the sea god himself. A man who used that heritage to claim dominion over the oceans that spanned the Empire.

The Scholar City’s recent technological breakthroughs were maybe a few decades away from rendering both him and his way of life obsolete. And the Athena’s inventions had been responsible for wiping out half his fleet just a few years ago.

He was rumored to be quite temperamental. One never knew if he would treat them like a kindly father or if he would kill them simply for breathing wrong.

Or sometimes both.

“You can understand why I try to avoid him as much as possible.”

Then he turned his bright, unflinching eyes on her.

“Your turn.”

But before she could answer, the shadowy masts of two ships appeared on the horizon, pulling them both out of their conversation.

Annabeth tried not to let her relief at the interruption show, with little success.  She handed over a set of ropes to her captain, who eyed them with no small amount of frustration.

He’d been least enthusiastic about this part of the plan, especially after what had happened in Sardinia. But Annabeth had insisted – he needed to tie her up in order to make it all look real. Percy left the ropes loose enough that she could pull herself free, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead.

“I’m not going to let them take you. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

At least, she knew he would try. She believed that this plan was their best chance, but it wasn’t foolproof.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

She did.

“You’re well worth any effort it takes to keep you. I promise, no matter what happens, I will not let them take you from me.”

Annabeth took in a breath, and then let it out, reassured. When Percy made a promise, he kept it. It was as simple as that.

It took the two ships almost no time to anchor alongside the Argo, and, with every meter they drew closer, Annabeth felt her panic rising.

Calm.

Cool.

Collected.

Clever.

She stood shoulder to shoulder between Percy and Jason, her hands tied to the mainmast behind her. They were flanked on either side by Hazel, Frank, Piper, Will, and Grover.

All of them stood stock still as first one gangplank, and then another, hit the starboard side; then two more hit the port side. In moments, a contingent of temple guards, dressed resplendently in glinting silver armor, moved in two straight lines across the gangplanks and filled the deck of the Argo II.

Her calculations had been about right. There were 24 guards in total on the Argo deck, leaving approximately eight behind on each temple ship. And there — floating in a cloud of sheer white and gray gauze, was a Scholar Priestess, her face obscured behind her veils.

“Welcome aboard our ship, Priestess,” Piper purred coolly. “We’re here to negotiate an exchange. We will give you the wanted girl and her contraband in return for twenty thousand drachma.”

Her pronouncement was met with a heavy, displeased silence.

Piper pulled Odysseus’s journal from behind her back and lifted it up into the moonlight.

“This is what you’ve been searching for, yes?” Piper flipped carelessly through its fragile pages, making both Annabeth and the other priestess flinch. “Doesn’t seem like much to me, but I’m willing to bet it’s worth at least ten thousand drachma on its own – then another ten for the thief.”

When the Scholar Priestess finally spoke, her voice was as high and sharp as it had been in so many of the worst moments of Annabeth’s childhood.

“You’ll give us the thief and the journal, and in return, we won’t make you face trial for crimes against the Empire.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“We have it on good authority that three sub-surface ships disappeared off the northwest coast of Crete just moments after having spotted this vessel and her… cargo .”

Piper exchanged a confused look with Percy, whose face wore an equally convincing mask of doubt.  Then Piper turned to the crew, tilting her head as if to ask their take on the accusation – each of them shrugged and shook their heads – a convincing performance.

“We picked up the thief in southern Crete. It’s possible we crossed paths with some – I’m sorry, what did you call them? Sub-surface ships? Is that a new Athenian invention?”

The lie flowed like quicksilver, but Tutor Helena wasn’t convinced. She turned her head towards the guards at her left side.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense. Take her. Kill whoever gets in your way,” she commanded.

The first guard was only able to take five steps before met his death at the tip of Percy’s blade, his entrails slipping out onto the deck. The second died a heartbeat later, letting out a gurgle and choking on his own blood as Hazel’s sword sliced his throat.

“I’ll get what I’m owed, and not one drachma less,” her captain growled from where he and Hazel now stood, midway between the temple guards and the Argo crew.

Tutor Helena went utterly still, and Annabeth wished she could see the woman’s face. She prayed to whatever wisps of Brizo might remain in this world: Send a strong wind? Pull the veil from her eyes?

There was no answer.

“You’ll find,” Piper crooned, stepping forward as well, “that my captain is much less open to negotiations than I am. Best to deal with me, rather than him.”

Annabeth took that as her cue and began to make a show of struggling and howling, just as Piper had taught her to do earlier that morning.

“Please!” She whimpered, in her most pathetic, most terrified voice. “Please, Tutor Helena!”

Annabeth saw Percy’s shoulders stiffen at the name.

She fell to her knees with a loud, painful crack.

Too much?

Maybe it had been too much. But at least it helped to make her tears more realistic.

“Be quiet! Stupid girl. Why the Athena wants you back is beyond my comprehension.”

“Oh,” Piper mused with an air of menacing glee. “So the Athena wants her alive?”

She turned and looked at Jason, who immediately raised his golden sword to Annabeth’s throat.

“Give us what we’re owed, or the thief and the journal will both sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“You will all die if you try.”

Piper shrugged.

“We might. But so might you. And your High Priestess will not care that you killed us all if you go back empty-handed.”

Despite her superior numbers, Tutor Helena had just lost the upper hand, and, judging from the sudden stiffness in her frame, she knew it. She turned to Piper.

“I’ll give you ten thousand.”

“Twenty thousand.”

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

There was a long pause, and Annabeth wondered briefly if they would have to start killing the temple soldiers before the crew infiltrating the temple ships was finished with their half of the plan.

That would be… less than ideal. They didn’t have the numbers to survive such a fight.

“Fine. Twenty-five thousand.”

With a flick of Tutor Helena’s fingers, five guards stepped forward, each carrying a heavy sack of what Annabeth assumed to be five thousand drachma, and dropped them at Percy and Piper’s feet.

Then Tutor Helena and two of her guards pushed past her captain and her sister, moving to collect Annabeth from the mast.

Tutor Helena had folded too quickly. Their plan depended on giving the others enough time to infiltrate, and then evacuate, both ships.

They needed to stall, which meant it was time for one of her contingency plans.

She caught Percy’s eye and hoped her face communicated everything that needed to be said. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he took a step towards her, but he wasn’t fast enough; Annabeth’s wheels were already in motion.

“Kill them!” She howled to Tutor Helena. “Kill them – please, please! Don’t take me back until you’ve killed them!”

Annabeth put on a show of fighting and wriggling like a wild thing against her bindings before she slipped her hands free of the loose knots.  Jason made to catch her by the waist, but she dodged out of the way, spinning right into one of the temple guards, who grabbed at her and shoved her down to her knees.

The moment she was within striking distance, the back of Tutor Helena’s hand met Annabeth’s cheek with a sudden, but familiar, crack.

The silence that descended on the deck of the Argo was so thick with shock and wrath that it made the hairs on Annabeth's neck stand on end.

“Get control of yourself. I won’t waste another drop of good Athenian blood on you.”

Annabeth pulled free of the guard’s hold – it was surprisingly easy to do, she noted; her strength had greatly improved these last few weeks — and flung herself at Tutor Helena’s feet.

‘Don’t take me back unavenged! I am dishonored! Defiled!”

How many more synonyms for defiled could she think of?  Plenty. At least enough to buy them all a little bit more time.

“I am tainted! Impure. Unclean. I beg of you! Have mercy . Do not make me face our Lady while they yet live! Please .”

With each descriptor, she raised both the pitch and octave of her shrieks, sounding increasingly like a cat in heat.

“Not when I am so polluted – so contaminated! I have disgraced the vows of our temple. I am a blight upon all of our names. I am a dirty, sullied, wretch of a woman!”

Annabeth was having quite a lot of fun, actually. In spite of her stinging cheek. Maybe she could take up some more theatrical hobbies, now that she’d made her acting debut.

“My virtue!” She wailed. “Oh, my virtue!”

That, it seemed, was Tutor Helena’s limit. With a painful, almighty yank, she pulled Annabeth up from the floor by her braid– out of her low prostration, and onto the tops of her knees – and shook her.

“If you don’t get control of your pathetic yowling, I’ll personally see to it that you never utter another word so long as you live,” she hissed.

But neither the pain nor the threat touched Annabeth at all, and she smiled up at Tutor Helena.

Because Annabeth’s diversion had done its job.

None but the crew of the Argo had realized that the two temple ships were beginning to drift away.  And by the time the temple guards were alerted to that fact by the sound of the gangplanks falling with a splash into the ocean below, they were too late.

Because Nico, Leo, and Reyna had returned, along with some of Reyna's crew. They crouched low the railing, and by the looks on their faces, they were hungry for blood.

In one fluid motion, Annabeth pulled her knife from her pocket and sliced at the knot of hair that Tutor Helena had grabbed, freeing herself from the priestess's hold. Then, quick as a snake, she turned and sliced through the femoral artery of the unsuspecting guard at her back.

His shock made him slow to respond, and Annabeth took the opportunity it provided to push up from the floor and drive her blade into the exposed underside of his jaw. His body hit the ground with a thud.

Annabeth dropped to her knees again as the second guard made a grab for her. He fell an instant later, one of Piper’s throwing knives protruding from his eye socket.

It was at that moment that a gust of wind blew across the deck and pulled Tutor Helena’s veil from her face, giving Annabeth a most beautiful and unobstructed view of the shock and horror written across the woman’s face.

An image she would treasure for the rest of her life.

Percy came to stand beside her, his shirt already soaked with the blood of the guards that had been in his way. Annabeth tried to push up onto her feet but slipped in the blood she herself had spilled. Her limbs, stained red and slick, became cold and unresponsive.

Percy's eyes met hers, and flashed with understanding.

“No one touches her,” he growled from above her, a guard dog protecting its home. The soldiers who were foolish enough to step towards him quickly found themselves missing most of their vital organs as well as several important extremities.

When guard managed to break through Percy’s defense, Annabeth’s body responded before she realized she had even moved.

One second, she saw a sword aimed at Percy’s back, and the next second, she had tackled the threat to the ground by his knees. She didn’t know how many times she stabbed at the guard— in his neck, his armpit, his groin— she just kept going until he stopped making noises.

Elsewhere, Nico and Reyna were fighting back to back – two impassive and deadly shadows that left a trail of bodies in their wake. Reyna’s spear was an extension of her arm. Nico’s sword was a blur. Slash. Move. Stab. Move. Slash. Move. They made carnage look as easy as breathing.

Hazel and Frank fought together as well, two efficient warriors who knew one another’s styles and defensive needs without having to say a word. Jason fought with strong, broad strokes of his sword, and any time someone came too close, their throats would spit open beneath the loving caress of Piper’s daggers.

Will, Grover, and Leo fought by the galley doors. Grover used his hard hoofs to wind his targets or render them helpless with a swift kick to the groin, and, when they instinctively bent double, Will would drive his electric bone saw into their carotids, creating a mist of blood that shimmered in the pale light of the moon.

And then there was Leo – cackling as he shot at the soldiers with a nightmarish new contraption that had several grabbing, grasping hooks that could pierce them through the neck from two meters away. Each victim he snagged would struggle and gape with wide, horrified eyes –  nothing more than doomed fish caught on a barb.

And, at the edge of the chaos, Tutor Helena’s face grew more and more pale as her soldiers fell like so many saplings in a hurricane. She tried to escape over the railing, but then it seemed she had thought better of it. Most likely because the waters around the ship were beginning to teem with sharks.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of fighting subsided, replaced by the sounds of her crew’s heavy breaths and the occasional scream of an unlucky soul still alive in the frothing waters below.

It looked like Jason had been injured. Hazel was limping and Reyna had a cut on her cheek. (Or maybe that was someone else’s blood? It was hard to tell.)  Leo was cradling his left wrist.

But they were all still standing. All breathing.

Alive.

There was a warm hand at her bicep, and Percy helped her to her feet. He examined her face – a muscle ticked in his jaw at the sight – and then brushed his lips against her rapidly swelling cheek.

Then he pressed a hand against her lower back, guiding her towards the shaking woman whose shoulders were being held tightly in Frank’s grasp.

When Annabeth didn’t immediately speak (because what did she say? Here, now, at the end of this nightmare? What was she supposed to say?) Percy stepped in.

“You owe our Annabeth an apology.”

Somehow, Tutor Helena’s face grew even paler.

“I –” she began, then stopped. “I’m —”

But it was like the words were impossible for her to get out.

Percy cocked his head.

“Were you the one who put her in the closet?”

The question was little louder than a sigh, and yet it promised pain.

Tutor Helena remained silent, but the way her eyes widened, her hands lifting in a placating gesture, was answer enough.

Percy’s gaze flicked down to Annabeth.

Then he moved – so quickly that Annabeth almost didn’t see it happen – and, with a graceful, arching spin of his sword, he cut off Tutor Helena’s right hand. The same hand that had struck Annabeth’s cheek.

It hit the deck with a muffled, wet thump, and the priestess screamed.

“P-please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Percy picked up the severed appendage and considered it briefly before tossing it carelessly overboard and turning his cold eyes back to the wailing woman before him.

“Get on your knees,” he hissed, and she did. “Now crawl, and kiss the floor at our Annabeth’s feet.”

Annabeth’s breath caught in her throat.

That seemed to be a line in the sand for the priestess; her eyes flared with anger at the command. Her pride was short-lived, however. Because the moment Percy took a step towards her, Tutor Helena cowered again.

He crouched so that he was at eye level with her, exuding perfect ease. If it weren’t for the blood splattered across his body, she might have thought he was about to have a friendly conversation.

“Crawl while you still have one remaining hand,” he said, almost as if he were talking to a particularly stubborn child. “Or I’ll cut off the other and make you slither like the worm you are.”

Then he stood from his crouch and tapped at her left hand with Riptide’s tip.

It was impossible not to watch – utterly hypnotized – as Tutor Helena stumbled towards her and placed a resentful, reluctant, terrified kiss on the floor between her feet.

“Can I kill her for you, sweetheart?” Percy’s question was soft, almost pleading. His tender tone was so much more terrifying than any yell could possibly have been.

“You don’t have to kill me! Please! I won’t give your position away. I swear on the temples of the Athena.”

Percy looked down his nose at Annabeth’s former tutor, and his expression made it clear just how idiotic he found her plea.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you. You see, survivors? Survivors talk. But dead priestesses tell no tales.”

Annabeth looked at Percy for a long moment.

The others had been self-defense, but this? This would be murder. Tutor Helena was a middle-aged woman. She was cruel and abusive. But did that give Annabeth the right to kill her?

No.

Maybe?

She couldn’t be sure.

Or perhaps it wasn’t a matter of right at all, so much as responsibility.

Tutor Helena would become a threat to her family if Annabeth allowed her to live. And if Annabeth had to pick between them and the woman kneeling before her, there was only one choice she would ever make.

Her family was her responsibility. Her loyalty was to them.

And she wouldn’t ask anyone else to kill for her this time. This death was also Annabeth’s responsibility, Annabeth’s burden to bear.

“No, thank you,” she said, polite and calm as anything, despite her shaking hands. “Her death is mine.”

The smile Percy rewarded her with was so wide and so bright that she was momentarily distracted by it. She wanted to bask in that smile — wanted to soak up his approval like a flower soaks up the summer rain.

Instead, she crouched down, taking a fistful of Tutor Helena’s hair and pressing the tip of her blade against the woman’s neck.

“Before you die,” she said, “there’s something I want you to know.”

She bent low to Tutor Helena’s ear and whispered – just barely a breath:

“The reason the Athena wants me back alive? It’s because that woman — who you follow without question, who you believe is perfect and pure in every way? She has a daughter.”

Then she leaned back, sliced her blade across her former tormentor’s neck, and watched with cool, detached satisfaction as her eyes flickered with denial, then understanding, then horror, and then finally – finally – dimmed until they were dull and unseeing.

Another secret for Hades to collect.

Chapter 19

Chapter Notes

Ahh, I'm so glad you all enjoyed the last chapter!!! Thank you so, so much for all of your comments. They really and truly make my day.

Ummm... content warning? Period sex. Or rather, period fingering.

The moment the priestess’s body slumped to the floor, Percy’s hands were pulling her up into his arms and then cradling her face, his fingers rubbing gently at her bruised cheek.

Odd, Annabeth thought. His hands are shaking.

Then:

Or maybe I’m shaking?

She felt cold.

Cold and cold and cold and cold.

“Something’s wrong,” she gasped.

“You’re okay. You’re alright.”

“She’s in shock,” said Will from somewhere very, very far away. But there was something wrong with his voice.

It was cold, too

Percy pulled her close and rubbed his arms against her bare skin. He placed a soft kiss against her cheek, then her forehead, and finally her lips.

“Will? Could you get what we need?” He asked, without looking away from her.

“On it, Captain.”

Will’s voice was tight and angry. Annabeth tried to look in her friend’s direction, but Percy caught her chin, and his hands were unyielding.

All she could see was him; her entire field of vision was taken up by his expression. He looked concerned. But underneath it? She could see frustration.

There was a tense silence on the ship deck, and Annabeth felt a sense of growing dread that the tension was suddenly pointed towards… her.

“Percy? What’s wrong?” Her question was anxious.

What had she done? Were they beginning to see that she wasn’t worth it, in the end? Had she disgusted them with her display of violence?

Maybe, if she just apologized—- she could —

She tried to look around at everyone else, but Percy held her firm and wouldn’t let her move.

“Now’s not the time, sweetheart. Later. Okay?”

“Not later— now. ”

He sighed, and his eyes shifted just over her left shoulder.

“Reyna, give us the deck.”

Her panic was growing steadily worse – a balloon just about ready to burst.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Don’t look at them, honey. Look at me.”

She obeyed.

“Tell me what’s going on in your mind right now.”

“You’re all mad at me?”

“Not mad. Upset, maybe. Worried.”

“I did… something wrong?”

“You did.”

Oh.

This was it, then. This was going to be the final straw. She could feel it in her bones.

“You’re going to send me away,” she said, her voice heavy with bitter acceptance.

“Never.”

His reply was fierce, and her relief was instantaneous.

“Then I don’t understand. I did what was needed. Is it because I told them to kill you? You must – I mean. You must know it was all an act.”

She started to panic again, trying to wriggle free of his gasp. She needed Will. Where was Will? He would know how to fix this.

One of Percy’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her still.

“It’s not that, sweetheart. Hush. Hush. No one thinks you wanted us dead.”

“Then what —”

“For the sake of all the gods, Annabeth!” That was Hazel’s voice, and she sounded exasperated. “You literally, constantly keep putting yourself into situations where we have to watch you get hurt. Over and over again. ”

Oh.

“Instead of letting Piper work her magic, you just threw yourself into a situation where you knew you would be physically —”

Hazel’s voice broke off, and Annabeth heard her give a cry of frustration.

“But you… were all in danger. I needed to do that. I needed to buy you all some time. It was nothing I wasn’t ready for. Nothing I wasn’t already used to.”

Percy’s eyes flared bright with rage, but just for an instant. And when the rage petered out, only sadness remained.

“I don’t care how used to it you are,” he rasped. “I — none of us— want to see you hurt. And you got yourself hurt on purpose , Annabeth.” His voice broke on her name.

It was Nico who spoke next.

“Annabeth, you don’t owe us your pain as payment for our acceptance  or our—“

He stumbled over his words for a moment but then continued.

“—our care.”

His words struck at something deep in her chest, and a wide, painful cavern ripped open inside of her.

Her head dropped heavily onto Percy’s shoulder. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill.

He turned her head to the side so that her wounded cheek was exposed to the sky, and she felt the touch of Will’s cool, nimble fingers as he carefully applied a salve to her now-damp face.

Someone wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders.

Percy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, moving his hand to cup the nape of her neck firmly in his palm.

“You will never,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “Never, never do anything like that to yourself again. I won’t tolerate it.”

She nodded into his chest.

And it was a revelation.

She didn’t owe them her pain in return for their love.

Cleaning up after everything was perhaps the worst part of the whole ordeal.

Not that Annabeth was much help, but she tried. Her hands were too unsteady to administer stitches or bandage any wounds, so she had put herself on mop duty. It was mindless enough.

When they returned to her quarters after a thorough scrub of the deck, Annabeth was more bone tired than she could ever remember being in her whole life.

“Do you mind if I stay in here with you tonight?”

It seemed to Annabeth that sharing a bed with Percy was starting to become a habit.

“It’s your room, Percy. Of course I don’t mind.”

“I’d rather it be ours.”

Annabeth’s cheeks burned and her heart thumped, once, and too loudly.

Ours.

“Let’s get that blood off of you, hmm? C’mon, sweetheart.”

He led her into the bathroom.

“Can I take this dress off?”

“Yes, please.”

He untied the blood-soaked chiton and helped her step out of it. There would be no coming back for the ruined thing, but Annabeth didn’t mind.

“What about these, honey? Can I take these off?”

For a moment, Annabeth considered saying no. He would see her menstrual blood, after all.

Then she realized how ridiculous that was, given the context, and nodded.

He moved to her left side and pulled her underwear off her hips and down her legs. Annabeth felt a rush of affection for the man as he carefully averted his gaze from the apex of her thighs.

He stayed nearby as she cleaned herself and washed her hair, and then he helped her step into clean clothes.

“Go get in bed. I’ll be right behind you.”

Annabeth cleaned her teeth, prepared fresh linens for her monthly, and climbed into the soft sheets. Percy joined her a few minutes later, clean and dressed in sleeping clothes.

“Come here,” he murmured, tapping at his chest.

She curled onto her side and rested her head against his sternum. Apparently, that wasn't quite enough because Percy’s arm slipped below her shoulders and pulled her even closer, lifting her up so that half of her body rested on him – one leg thrown over his, one arm tucked around him.

She could hear the steady thump thump thump of his heart.

“How’re you feeling?” Annabeth asked.

He didn’t respond right away. His fingers trailed through her hair, down her neck, across her shoulders, and back up.

“Not great,” he finally admitted. “I keep seeing it. The way that woman… put her hands on you. The sound of it.”

Annabeth imagined what it must have looked like. Imagined how she would have felt watching any of them get hurt, and not being able to do anything about it.

“You’re a good friend to me, Percy,” she whispered.

He made a vaguely dissatisfied sound. She supposed he would prefer to hear an apology.

“I’ve never had people care about me like this before. Or just… not in a long time. I don’t really know how it all works.”

“I know.”

She sighed and burrowed closer into him.

There was a tension in her mind and body that she couldn’t quite place. Something was wrong— something was off-kilter and out of alignment, but she wasn’t sure what.

“I killed three people today.”

Percy’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its soothing path.

“I wonder… who I am now. Now that their blood is on my hands.”

“Still yourself, Wise Girl. Just safer than you were yesterday. And we’ll need to think of a name for your dagger in the morning.”

“Safer? You think? And if the Athena finds out and sends more people after us?”

“We’ll manage. And we’ll manage without having you throw yourself into harm's way.”

“Alright.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“But you have to admit, I did put on a pretty impressive performance.”

She felt Percy’s chest shake as he let out a small, rueful laugh.

“Oh, I’m impure!” He mimicked, in a drawn-out falsetto. “Defiled! Unclean!”

Annabeth buried her face into him as she muffled her own laughter.

“Little did she know that I like being defiled by you.”

Now the sound that came from Percy’s throat was all satisfaction.

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

Annabeth was feeling a little bit better, but something still was unresolved. She still needed… absolution.

“What can I do, Percy? To earn your forgiveness?”

“You want my forgiveness?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then you have it.”

She shook her head, unsure how to explain the feeling clawing at her insides.

“I want to earn it.”

“Ah,” he murmured. “You want a chance to prove how good you can be for me.”

Yes.

He understood. Relief coursed through her.

“For now, you can tell me that you’ll never do that again.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Why?”

“Because I… don’t need to… cause myself pain in order to prove that I’m worthy of your care.”

“Good girl.”

Something curled up and settled down in her soul. She let out a yawn.

“What else?” The question came out slurred and sleepy.

“How about we talk about it in the morning? I want you to rest.”

“Okay.”

She was adrift in her dreams a heartbeat later.

When she woke the next morning, the first thing she saw was Percy’s feverish gaze.

“How do you feel?” He asked as she blinked her eyes open.

“I’m alright.”

“Tell the truth.”

Annabeth sighed and considered her answer for a second.

“I’m mostly alright. Relieved it’s over. Happy we’re safe. Grateful to you. Scared of how easy it was for me to kill. But really, alright.”

His eyes searched hers, and he must have been satisfied by what he saw there because he smiled and said, “I have a suggestion.”

“Hmmm?”

“For how you can show me how good you are.”

Her whole body lit up.

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I want,” he purred, “to taste your cunt.”

The man did not mince words, did he?

There was an immediate echoing ache between her thighs. And his smile turned predatory as Annabeth squirmed under the weight of his eyes.

“Oh?”

Oh? Really, Annabeth? That’s the best you can come up with?

“You see, you keep putting yourself through all these painful ordeals, sweetheart.”

He placed a lingering kiss against her cheek.

“I want to put you through a pleasurable one. Let you see how they compare.”

Oh, gods.

“ Yes,” she whimpered.

He dipped lower. His tongue flicked across her neck, making her moan. If it felt that good just on her neck, how good would it feel elsewhere?

But what if he didn’t like it? What if she tasted bad? Or if it looked bad? Or if she did it wrong?

Then she remembered her monthly bleed and a jolt of panic shot through her.

“Wait!”

He paused, going utterly still above her.

“I’m still bleeding,” she said, by way of explanation, and he relaxed.

“So? Just a bit of blood. And I’ve tasted yours before, too. Don’t you remember? Tasted sweet.”

“ So? I don’t— want. I don't— I won’t be able to enjoy it.”

He let out a pained, frustrated groan into her neck, but didn’t push any further.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s fair enough. Will you let me know when your bleed stops?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He grinned, his eyes bright.

“Gods, I love hearing you say that. Should be fucking illegal.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes— as if something’s illegality would matter in the least to him.

“Oh, you’ve got an attitude now?” He tsked, slowly shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Just because you won’t let me taste your pretty little cunt doesn’t mean we’re anywhere close to being done here, Wise Girl.”

She shivered in anticipation.

“We’re going to see just how many times we can make you come before you beg me to stop.”

His voice was low and laced with a command, and Annabeth savored the feeling it produced in her. The hazy softness, the desire to yield and to please.

It must have shown on her face because his expression became tender. He ran the backs of his fingers against her jaw.

“There you are,” he murmured.

Then his hands went to the buttons of her shirt.

He flashed his eyes up to her— a question in his gaze. Annabeth nodded, and in moments he had her bare to him from the waist up.

He bent his head and peppered soft kisses down her neck, then across her chest, then finally on her breasts.

Annabeth’s back arched off the bed, and she felt Percy’s lips curve into a smile just before his tongue began to lap at her nipple, turning Annabeth into a boneless, mewling mess.

She let her fingers travel down her body; they were almost where she needed them most when Percy took hold of her wrist and pinned it beside her head.

“None of that, honey. Not until I give you permission.”

“ Percy!” She groaned in frustration.

“You’re going to learn to follow my instructions, Annabeth,” he cooed into her sensitive skin. Then he returned to his ministrations— soft, barely there licks— and when Annabeth began to writhe beneath him his hand moved from her wrist to grip at her shoulder and pin her down.

“So needy, honey.”

She keened, but he still didn’t give her the pressure she wanted.

“ More,” she demanded, and he chuckled.

“Did I not make it clear enough? You’re not in charge this time, Annabeth. I’m going to enjoy you however I want to, and you’re going to take what I give you when I give it to you.”

Her whole body began to tremble.

“That means if you want something, you’re going to have to beg me for it.”

She could beg. Just him, though. Only for him.

“More, please ,” this time it wasn’t a demand, it was prayer.

“That’s much better, sweetheart.”

He switched sides, moving his mouth to her other breast, and began the torturous process all over again.

When Annabeth was sure she couldn't take any more of it, he finally paused and loomed up above her. His eyes roamed over her face, and a look of pure lust spread across it as he took in the desperation in her expression.

“Can I take off your pants?”

Annabeth nodded feverishly. Yes. Yes. Whatever would get her what she needed. Yes.

“Use your words.”

“Yes!” she snapped.

Annabeth was sure she heard him laugh, but she couldn’t focus on that when she needed release.

“Lift up your hips,” he ordered. When she did, he slid her pants down her legs, leaving her underwear on. Then he shifted their positions so that he was sitting behind her and she was propped up on his chest.

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

And Annabeth was so far gone that she didn’t even stop to consider just how embarrassing it might be. She slid her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear, nearly sobbing in relief as the tips of her fingers came into contact with her clitoris.

“Explain what you’re doing to yourself while you do it.”

She froze.

Now that was too much. Annabeth’s whole face flushed bright red, and she shook her head.

Percy wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed it gently.

“Either explain what you’re doing or take those greedy little fingers off your desperate cunt and let me use my mouth. Your choice.”

She let out an indignant whine from the back of her throat.

“I know. I’m being so mean. Aren’t I? It’s all so unfair.”

“ Ass,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“Too bad for you, I like being a little mean. And I think you like it, too. Now make your choice before I make it for you.”

“I—“ she took a deep breath. “I’m touching myself with two fingers.”

“Touching your clit?”

She nodded.

“Softly, sweetheart? Or do you need pressure?”

The hand that wasn’t at her neck drifted to her breasts and his thumb began to brush against her already too sensitive nipples, making Annabeth gasp.

“Both,” the word came out as a gasp. “Soft at first, then with more pressure.”

“What part of your clit? The top? The side?”

“The side.”

He kissed her temple and watched the movements of her fingers beneath her clothes intently, one hand still squeezing at the sides of her neck, the other gently pinching her nipple.

“Up and down? Or in circles?”

“ Circles,” she whined, and then she cried out as his fingers pinched her nipple.

“You like it when I touch your pretty tits?”

“Yes!”

“I’m glad. They’re so nice to touch. So soft, and so –”

He pinched again, and she let out a sharp, plaintive sound.

“- sensitive. I could listen to these sweet sounds you make for hours , honey,” he crooned. “I wonder how else I can get you to whimper for me, hmm?”

His mouth moved to the curve of her neck; he bit down, and Annabeth melted under the pleasure and pain, mewling desperately beneath his teeth and tongue without an iota of embarrassment.

It wasn’t long before her fingers began to speed up, and her legs started to shift, moving of their own volition as the pressure and the pleasure low in her stomach began to grow.

“So good, honey. Are you getting close?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ask me for permission to come.”

That alone almost sent her careening over the edge. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and she buried her face into his neck.

“Please?” Her voice was quiet.

“Please what?” He prompted.

“Please can I come?”

“Yes, you can.”

Her fingers and her breathing both sped up.

“Such a good girl.”

His soft praise was all she needed— the wave washed over her, her body arching and writing with the pleasure of it, all while Percy’s eyes and hands stayed trained on her.

When her orgasm receded, she was nothing more than a puddle of lax muscles.

She slipped her fingers out from under her waistband and let them fall away, keeping her head tucked into the side of Percy’s neck as he cooed into her ear.

“So pretty when you come apart… so perfect.”

She sighed in utter contentment.

Then yelped and jerked her head up as another set of fingers found their way beneath her underwear.

Percy grinned down at her.

“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?”

His fingers began to mimic her previous movements, drawing slow, barely there circles across her sensitive bud.

“I don’t think I can, you know— again.”

“That’s alright. I just want to touch you. You don’t have to come. You only have to relax for me.”

His free hand pushed her face back into his neck, and she melted into him once more.

His fingers moved slowly, lazily, and Annabeth’s eyes fluttered shut as she found herself drifting into the soft and cloudy haze that hung in her mind.

Percy kept up a consistent pace as time slipped away from them.  And although Annabeth had a feeling it was passing, that fact seemed vaguely… unimportant.

Eventually, warmth began to spread through her once again, and the tension that accompanied a building orgasm coiled in her stomach.

She moaned into the crook of Percy’s neck.

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

His fingers didn’t change their tempo. They stayed slow and steady – as if he was in no rush to bring her to the edge again. When she realized he wasn't going to give her the speed she wanted, s he bucked her hips into his hand, impatient to arrive at the impending release she felt just on the horizon.

“Hush, Wise Girl. Settle down. Just relax and let me take care of you. We’re doing this nice and slow.”

Despite her huff of frustration, she couldn’t have disobeyed even if she’d wanted to. His voice filled her mind, and she slipped further and further into the fog, tethered to the world by only Percy’s fingers, his voice, his smell, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

As the minutes passed, the pleasure rose— slowly, slowly — painfully, beautifully slowly.

Then the precipice was there, and she was millimeters from the edge without even having realized it.

“Oh— I — please?” She gasped.

“Come for me, honey.”

There was a note of something undefinable in his voice, something affectionate that made her heart clench and her eyes sting.

Annabeth let out the softest sigh as she came apart on his fingers.

She expected him to stop then, but instead, his fingers left her clitoris and dipped lower.

“So good. Will you let me inside you?”

Beyond everything else, this was utterly uncharted territory for her. She’d always dealt with her own libido quickly and efficiently. There had never been a need to… go any further.

But as new as it was, as nervous as it made her, there was no way she could avoid the fact that she wanted to feel him there.

“Yes, ” she gasped, and he groaned into her hair.

Carefully, so carefully, he dipped a finger into her.

He was inside her.

He was touching her in a way she had never even touched herself, and the intimacy of it made her shudder.

“ Fuck , honey. You’re so wet for me.”

She moaned at the feel of him and at the lust — the approval — in his voice.

Then, because she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, she said, “Don’t get too full of yourself, Seaweed Brain. It’s just the blood. Nothing you did.”

Her attempt to sound confident failed as the statement came out too breathily to be anything but desperate.

He let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“There’s that attitude again. And here I thought I’d taken care of it.”

He pinched her nipple again — harder than he had before – sending a spike of pain through her body and making her cry out. But he didn’t let up the pressure, even as she writhed in his grasp.

“Whine all you want, sweetheart. I can feel what this does to you. You can’t keep it a secret from me. Not now that you’ve let me put my fingers inside you.”

His finger went deeper and pressed against a part of her that made her nearly incoherent.

Inside her. Inside her. Inside her.

Touching her so deeply.

Only him. Only him.

Then the heel of his hand began to move against her clitoris, and she let out a guttural groan. She tried to shift her hips away— too much, it was all too much— but he wouldn’t let her move a centimeter.

“Is your clit too sensitive for me to touch, honey?” He crooned into her ear, lifting his palm and giving her a split-second reprieve.

She nodded feverishly.

“Too bad.”

And the heel of his palm returned, pressing firmly and unmercifully against her overstimulated nerve. He kept her pinned against him with his thighs and his free hand— so even as she squirmed and thrashed, there was no escape from the onslaught.

“You’re gonna give me one more. You’re not going anywhere until you give me one more.”

Then he added another finger— there was a stretch, a pinch, and a moment of discomfort that only made her pleasure spiral even higher.

“Taking me so well. I want to feel your cunt clench around my fingers as you come. Want everyone on this ship to hear you scream for me. Want them to know just who you belong to.”

That did it.

A scream tore from her throat as she clenched and convulsed on his fingers. He kept them moving, pumping in and out of her, not letting up until she pushed frantically at his arm.

“I can’t take any more,” she gasped. “Please, I can’t— I can’t —"

“Alright. Alright.”

The sound as he pulled himself out of her was the most obscene thing she’d ever heard, but gods, if she didn’t love it.

He held her for several long minutes while she recovered, stroking her hair with his left hand. She found herself staring in fascination at the fingers of his right hand, still marked with the evidence of where they’d just been, hanging lazily off the edge of his upraised knee, his long, deft fingers curling and uncurling at random intervals.

As she watched his thumb rub against the pads of his fingers ( her blood; that was her blood on those hands and on those knuckles),  she couldn't help but think that something about the sight felt almost profound to her. It was the furthest thing from shameful. In fact, it was even a little bit... beautiful

Her change of perception was probably helped along by the way Percy kissed every part of her face that he could reach and showered her with praise in the form of questions.

“Do you realize how good your hair smells? All the time, like mint and citrus.”

Thanks be to Will.

“Do you know how beautiful you look when you come? How sweet you sound when you beg?”

She would gladly beg him for whatever he’d give – dignity be damned.

“Do you know your cunt is the warmest, softest thing I’ve ever felt? I hope I never have to live without it.”

Her mind stopped working altogether after that last one.

When she finally felt steady enough, she excused herself to the restroom to clean up.

She planned to find some way of broaching the topic of reciprocity. Of making him feel good in the ways he’d made her feel good. Because she had felt just how hard he was, and she would be lying if she said the idea of seeing him didn’t make her mouth water.

But the moment she crawled back into the bed, her eyelids drooped with the weight of her exhaustion, and she fell back to sleep.

Later that morning, she woke up wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. There was a cup of water on the bedside table, and a handwritten note beside it.

They need me upstairs. Drink all of this water and then come find me.

You were so perfect for me, Annabeth.

P.S. I need you to please explain how atoms work. It’s really been weighing on me. They are so small?? How do they exist???

She couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her cheeks.

Chapter 20

Chapter Notes

Alright y'all, I'm going to be traveling for the next few days, and it will likely be a wee bit before my next update, so you're getting a two-fer tonight!

She’d been worried when she came upstairs that morning that her crewmates would still be upset with her, but it seemed they were quick to forgive. Even if Piper had pinched her ear and told her to “never even think about doing that again.”

It took her and Leo half a day to take one of the solar engines off of a temple ship and install it on the Argo II. And it only took that long because Annabeth kept having to curb his more… explosive predilections.

(No, the engine could not be reprogrammed to double as a bomb. Why? Because it could have the potential to wipe out everything within a 50-kilometer radius. Yes, that would be such a bad thing. Yes, it would also be kind of cool. What if they just made a much smaller bomb instead?)

Now the trip to Circe’s island, which would have taken them between three and four days, would instead take half the time.

They were almost there.

The Doors of Death were days away, and Annabeth’s entire soul vibrated with the promise of it.

There had been some debate about where, exactly, Circe’s island was located. Eventually, however, Annabeth was able to make everyone else see sense: there was no exact location. They needed to trust that the winds of Brizo’s blessing would take them where they needed to go.

Jason had looked at her as if she was the bane of his existence (which, Annabeth was proud to say, she sort of was) before ruffling her hair and conceding that she might –  just might – have a point.

And, to make matters even better, Will had officially given her the all-clear to get back up into the rigging.

She’d stuck her tongue out at Percy as she’d climbed up past his head. His resulting expression – half smile, half wicked, wicked promise of retribution – had made her shiver.

Now she was aloft. The sea was bright and blue, the sky was wide and open, and the world was at her fingertips. It was as if, this whole time, she’d been carrying around some invisible, Tutor Helena-sized weight. And now that weight was gone, allowing her to move freely for the first time in years.

She’d picked the name Truthseeker for her dagger. It felt apt, and Percy told her it was “just the right amount of terrifying.”

She looked down from her perch in the bird’s nest to where her family was lounging languidly in the warmth of the summer sun. Piper, Leo, Will, Nico, and Jason were playing cards under the foremast. Grover and Frank were chatting animatedly by the mainmast. Hazel’s head was in Frank’s lap – too busy reading a book to join in on their conversation.

And Percy was standing at the helm with Reyna.

Annabeth tried to fight against the rising tide of insecurity, she really did. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who let herself be ruled by something as petty and unhelpful as jealousy.

But she was only human.

And Reyna was beautiful. And capable. And an exceedingly competent sailor.

“Hey, Percy?” She called down, and his head tilted up towards her. “I um… need your opinion on… ah… something. Can you come up here? Just for a moment?”

He turned back to Reyna briefly, then strode from the helm to the mainmast, and began to climb with a sort of practiced ease that made Annabeth’s mind go blank.

It didn’t take long for him to swing himself up into the bird’s nest beside her.

“You summoned, Wise Girl?”

There was a wry gleam in his eye as he looked her over, tilting his head to the side.

Ah, Hades.

She hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“I just — well, you see. I needed to get your opinion on… something.”

“Yes?” His voice lilted upwards as he drew out the word, and Annabeth had a sneaking suspicion that he’d seen right through her brilliant rouse.

“I – I mean – I –  it took you so long to get up here that I’ve forgotten what it was.”

He took hold of the edge of the bird’s nest on either side of her, caging her between his arms, and then bent low to nip at her earlobe.

“Is that what happened? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you? Especially not after that display with your tongue this morning.”

“I… can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Mhmmm, that’s what I thought,” he murmured. Then his mouth was on hers, she groaned and opened for him immediately, yielding to the press of his tongue.

He pulled away much too quickly for Annabeth’s liking, and she tried to tug him back to her by the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t budge.

She scowled up at him, and he laughed— a carefree, happy sound.

“If you’re feeling a little bit desperate for my attention, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask.”

“I– desperate? How could – I mean – I never! Pah! Desperate. You’re just arrogant and – wrong! ”

The wood at her feet was suddenly incredibly interesting. How had she never noticed those ridges before?

“Lying to me again?” he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. The grin that lit up his face was hungry. “If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll just have to torture it out of you. So, do you want to be good for me? Or are you having too much fun being a brat?”

With a long-suffering sigh, she folded like a house of cards in the north wind.  Communication, trust, and honesty. That’s what Will’s books suggested.

“I may or may not be… struggling with some less than pleasant feelings.”

One of his hands went to her lower back, then lower. Pulling her until her hips were pressed flush against him.

“Go on.”

“I know I don’t have any right, but I’m feeling a little bit… jealous? Of you and - and Reyna.”

He widened her stance with an instant little tap of his foot against each of hers before stepping between her thighs.

“What do you mean you don’t have any right, Annabeth?”

“Well, you’re not …”

“Not what?”

“Not… mine to be jealous of.”

He looked at her in disbelief. Then, when she didn’t retract her statement, he tugged his collar aside, and there, at the junction where his neck met his shoulder, was a fading bruise. A bite mark. Her bite mark.

Annabeth’s mouth went dry.

“Not yours, honey? Are you sure?” He murmured.

Then he pulled his collar to the other side, revealing the other, unclaimed half of his neck.

“Maybe you want to get this side, too? Just in case?”

When she didn’t deny it, his hand came around to the back of her head and he coaxed her mouth to his skin. She stood on her tiptoes and gripped at his shirt collar so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Mark me up, Annabeth. Go ahead. Make me yours.”

She put her lips against his skin and gave one tentative nip, careful not to bite him too hard.

He made an irritated noise, and his hand gripped tightly at the back of her neck.

“Harder, honey. Don’t hold back. Give me a nice, big, bruise. I want everyone to see. Want it to stay there for good a long while.”

It was an order she couldn’t resist.

She moaned as she sunk her teeth into the soft skin of his neck and sucked, right at the edge of his honeysuckle tattoo . The flavor of him began to awaken a long-repressed instinct in the back of her mind – some monster in her deepest subconscious opened one gleaming eye.

His echoing groan was low and full of unsuppressed desire.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned, and he sounded so pleased with her that Annabeth felt a shudder travel down her spine.

When she was satisfied she’d done a good enough job, she pulled away and took in the sight of her claim on his neck. Bright red and prominent and clear as day. It would bruise nicely.

Hers.

His eyes were heated and heavy-lidded as he gazed down at her. His smile was crooked and joyful.

“I have no interest in being in anyone else's bed but yours, Wise Girl. You have nothing to worry about.”

He pressed one more hard kiss to her lips before disappearing back over the edge of the bird’s nest.

That night, the Argo crew celebrated their new addition in the best way they knew how:

With far too much alcohol.

Annabeth had looked around hopefully for a bottle of wine, but there was none to be found. So when Leo passed a bottle of rum into her hands, she took a small swig.

It burned on the way down, but it wasn’t… entirely unpleasant. She still preferred the wine.

“Alright, you bilge-suckers,” Reyna called out, cracking her knuckles as she did so. She pulled a pouch up from the ground beside her and shook it. There was a sound of wood hitting wood. “Who's ready to play?”

She poured out the contents of the bag; wooden dice spilled out across the deck, and a whoop went up from every member of the crew.

“I’ll grab the cups!” Grover said before he practically sprinted for the kitchen.

She turned to Leo with a question in her eyes, and he took pity on her.

“It’s Liar’s Dice, Annabeth. We each get four dice, then we go around in a circle and place bets about how many of what number there are. But you can only see your own dice, and each person has to up the ante, you see? So if I say there’s… six threes, you’ll have to either bet six fours, or seven of whatever number you want. If you’ve got four fives under your cup, there’s a good chance there are at least ten fives around the whole circle. So you’d want to bet fives.”

That made… some sense.

“If you think someone put a bad bet— like if  I bet there are twenty twos at the table, you could call bullshit on it. If I’m wrong, I lose a die and I drink. If you’re wrong, you lose a die and you drink.”

Okay. She could do this— it was a game of chance and probability.  If she just kept track of exactly how many dice there were in the game at any given time, she’d be able to calculate the odds well enough.

The bottle of rum was passed her way again, and she took another sip. Then a second, just for good measure.

As it turned out, she wasn’t half bad at the game. She even won the first round.

But as the level of rum in her system increased, her ability to keep track of the dice decreased.

She’d faltered in the second round, and, by the third round, she was down to a measly one die in a matter of minutes.

She turned to Reyna.

“It’s an inverse relationship, you see,” she muttered to the woman at her left.

Reyna looked at her with uncomprehending eyes, and Annabeth realized she’d forgotten that Reyna hadn’t been inside of her mind to hear the first part of her thought.

Maybe a visual would help.

She looked across the circle to where Percy was watching her and held up her forearms into the shape of an X.

“It’s an inverse relationship!” She called across to him.

He looked at Grover and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Grover just shrugged, nonplussed.

Annabeth huffed and took another swig of rum. She was finding it to be much more delicious now — the more she drank, the more she liked it.

She held up the bottle and shook it.

“But this is a direct relationship! See? Inverse—"

she held up her arms into the cross.

“— and direct!”

She shook the bottle again.

“Strong positive versus strong negative correlations!”

If it wasn’t obvious to her crewmates by now, then they were hopeless.

“I think Annabeth’s trying to explain something mathematical,” Will whispered, none too quietly, to Nico.

Nico nodded, his face drawn with mock solemnity.

“Very wise of her,” he muttered gravely. “Very wise indeed.”

Annabeth stood, swaying a bit from side to side as she did so, and scowled at her friends, her hands on her hips.

“Math!” She declared. “Yes, it’s math! Everything is math! When you get down to it. The golden ratio! The Pythagorean theorem! Calculus! All of those things are math!”

Where had she been going with this? Somewhere vitally important, she was sure.

“This game is math! And friendship is math! And the stars are math!”

Were the stars math? Maybe. That might be a bit of a stretch.

“Percy’s perfect face?” She gestured towards their captain with a dramatic flourish. “Also math!”

Someone – correction – several someones were laughing.

“The point is, we should all be doing it more! We should be having more direct relationships, for the sake of math!”

There. Good. That’s exactly the argument she’d wanted to make, and it made perfect sense to her and to everyone else.

Percy unfurled himself from the ground and stood in one fluid motion before striding around the circle of their friends and putting his arm around Annabeth’s waist

“Hey!” Leo called. “The game’s not over!”

“You heard your priestess,” he said, cheerfully throwing the words over his shoulder. “She says we’ve got to go have some direct relationships, and I’m not about to disobey her orders.”

Something about the tone in his voice made Annabeth think he wasn’t talking about statistical correlations.

It took some time for Percy to corral her back to their quarters. And then it took even more time for them to wash, put on clean clothes, and climb into bed.

So by the time Percy finally lay down beside her, she was already half asleep. The feeling of his warm body made her stretch and purr like a contented cat in a patch of sunlight before turning to rub her cheek against his chest.

“I have a very important question for you,” she mumbled, still buzzing with the warmth of the rum in her blood.

“Between the two of us, you’re the one who's more qualified to answer important questions, Wise Girl.”

He tucked her head into the crook of his elbow and brought his fingers to her hair, running them gently through the strands and carefully untangling the knots.

His other hand traveled to the dip at her waist, where his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin of her stomach.

“Not this question.”

“Alright then, shoot.”

“When would be an appropriate time for me to see your… lower regions?”

His thumb stopped moving, and his chest began to shake in what Annabeth considered to be a highly suspicious manner.

“Are you laughing at me?”

He buried his face in her hair; she could hear the muffled huffs of his near-silent hysterics.

“You’re laughing at me!” She tried to make her tone as indignant as possible, but despite all her best efforts, she really just sounded pleased.

When he didn’t reply, she smacked his shoulder.

“Yes,” he finally gasped.

“It’s a perfectly legitimate que— oomf!”

Her protest was cut off when his lips met hers for just a moment in a searing kiss.

When Percy pulled back, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Annabeth, any time, and I literally mean any time, is an appropriate time for you to get me naked. Just ask.”

“What if we’re on the top deck during breakfast?”

“Then our poor crew had better shield their innocent eyes.”

That made her snort.

“Just one thing you should know though, Wise Girl, before you get me undressed…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t have a twelve-inch cock like all the men in Piper’s books.”

Annabeth’s face flushed a deep, warm red.

“I’m a scholar. A trained healer. I know the normal length of a man’s… appendage.”

He grinned a wolfish grin.

“Appendage? Lower region? Do me a favor sweetheart, and just call it a cock.”

She shook her head, which only made the grin grow even more ravenous.

“C’mon, honey. I want to hear that pretty little mouth say something filthy.”

“Just because you want it doesn’t mean you’ll get it,” she bit back and tried to squirm away from the hold he had her in.

In seconds, he had her wrists pinned above her head with one hand, his other forearm pressing down against her hips to keep them still.

“Alright then, I’ve changed my mind. If you want to see, you’re gonna have to ask me right.”

“You’re a tyrant!” She hissed, but she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

The pressure on her wrists increased as his eyes met hers and then crinkled at the edges.

“Maybe I’ll make you start saying all kinds of filthy things, hmmm? Make you beg me to touch your tits? Lick your cunt?”

Yes, she wanted that. Gods, yes. The combination of vulnerability and trust, the thrill of knowing she had given him control, that she would do what he asked simply because he asked it, was driving her wild.

The hand that was at her hips moved up and pushed the fabric of her shirt up, exposing her chest to him. Then it returned to her hips, pinning her down once more. His other hand left her wrists and tangled in her hair, pulling until her back arched off of the bed.

He bent until his mouth was just millimeters from her nipple, then stilled.

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her, a tease, a promise, a threat, and she let out an impatient whine.

“Ask me for what you want, Annabeth. Beg me the way I want you to. Make it pretty and filthy for me, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give it to you.”

“P-please!” She gasped. “Please put your mouth on my — tits.”

“And?”

“And please – I – may I please see your cock?”

“Good girl.”

Percy bent even lower, and Annabeth’s stomach coiled in desperate, delicious anticipation.

But then he only pressed one brief, chaste kiss to the very tip of her left nipple before pulling away and tugging her shirt back down around her waist.

He ignored her outraged mutters as he shifted her onto her side – handling her with delicious and infuriating ease – and pulled her back against him, pillowing her head against his bicep.

“Percy,” She fumed, moving herself against him in what she hoped was a seductive, irresistible manner, but which most likely was not. “I asked nicely.”

“You’re drunker than a Maenad in spring, Annabeth. We’re gonna get some sleep, and if you still want to see my cock after you’ve gotten over your hangover tomorrow, you can ask me for it then.”

She reluctantly admitted to herself that he might have a point. But what could possibly have given it away? She’d been so stoic and philosophical all evening.

“You’d better prepare yourself then, Seaweed Brain. ‘Cus I’m coming after your pants in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath, you ridiculous woman. Now hush. And close your eyes.”

His hand wrapped around her throat – just resting gently, not pressing at all. All the same, the action made her mind feel soft and quiet, and she fell easily into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 21

Chapter Notes

Whoo, man. You guys would not believe (or maybe you would?) the amount of smut I wrote while trying to pretend I wasn't writing smut in public.

I might make this a two-fer again, since I was gone for so long! If not, you'll get the next chapter tomorrow morning.

You're all the absolute best of the best. The cream of the crop. The tip of the top <3 <3 <3 <3

Annabeth did not, in fact, go after Percy’s pants the next day. She barely even made it out of bed. Then, when she finally did, instead of facing the harsh light of day and the knowing grins of two particular ghouls, she hid in the kitchen with Grover.

Grover didn’t tease her about her rum-induced thesis on the nature of mathematics, didn’t wiggle his eyebrows at her, or ask about how her direct relationships went. He just smiled, said he was glad to see her, and handed her some carrots to chop.

He was a balm to her tired pride.

Their isolation was the reason why Annabeth was so taken by surprise when she felt a sudden jolt go through the ship, sending her stumbling forward into the countertop.

Grover looked at her, wide-eyed and worried.

“Feels like we’ve run aground,” he muttered.

They rushed from the kitchen and up into the open air, where, sure enough, the hull of the Argo II was resting against a sandy beach.

Impossible.

“It wasn’t there a second ago. I swear, Captain!” Jason was saying to a clearly agitated Percy. “It came out of nowhere!”

Annabeth looked over the starboard gunwale. There, just a few meters away, were several wandering gazelles, some lone lions, and a squealing mass of wayward hogs. In an instant, Annabeth realized exactly where they were.

“Percy!” She called, and relief spread across his features as he turned and took her in. “It’s alright – this is it! This is Circe’s island!”

She leaned farther over the side of the gunwale, eager to get a closer look at the realm that hadn’t been touched by mortal eyes in thousands of years.  Here it all was: the immaculate white sands, the lush trees, the tantalizing scent of jasmine wafting in the breeze.

It was within reach; she’d just have to grab a rope and —

A hand fisted in her shirt and pulled her back onto the deck.

Percy’s eyes were tight with anxiety as he looked down at her.

“You’re on thin ice, Wise Girl.”

“I wasn’t going to –”

“Thin. Ice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and Percy leaned down until he was centimeters from her face. His gaze shifted over her expression, cataloging every minute detail and lingering along the bruise Tutor Helena had left on her cheekbone.

“You’re going to stay within arms reach of me every gods damned second we’re on this island, Annabeth. And if you try to fight me on that, I’ll tie you to my fucking bed and sail us all right the fuck back to Krymménos.”

She tried to convince herself that she did not appreciate this overprotective overreach of authority. Her heart was almost swayed. Her body, however, refused to even listen.

She sighed and trained her gaze at the mark she’d made on his neck. Her track record thus far had been less than ideal. She couldn’t deny that she had a habit of putting herself into dangerous situations, and so couldn’t exactly label Percy’s concern as unreasonable.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes flicked back up to his, and she saw real, true, heart-wrenching worry in his bright green gaze.

“Please."

She took one of his hands in both of hers and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll stay next to you, Percy. The whole time. I won’t put myself in danger. I won’t make you watch me get hurt again.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he touched his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he sighed.

They found a narrow path that led them through the verdant forest. Up and up, into the hills, around and around in a twisted pattern that was no doubt designed to confuse trespassers.

Annabeth wished she had thought to bring a ball of yarn.

As they walked, Annabeth realized that Percy wasn’t the only person intent on reigning in Annabeth’s newfound martyr complex.

Will had clasped her hand in his the moment they stepped foot on the sand, and had refused to let go. Frank and Hazel kept one step behind her, ready to pounce should she show even the slightest indication of impulsiveness.

It was a little bit suffocating, but it was also oddly … nice, being fussed over like that.

You’re not going anywhere, their every action said. And it was such a relief to the part of her that would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the day that they decided to let her go was preferable to keeping her safe.

“We can both have a better life. It will be easier this way.”

Annabeth forced her thoughts away from that particular cliff, and turned them to the question that had been plaguing her for the past few hours:

What would they find?

Scholars were unsure whether the immortal sorceress could be considered a minor goddess.  Her associations with the other gods had been limited – or at least their records and myths hadn’t mentioned her much, outside of her dealings with Odysseus.

Annabeth generally thought of her as a minor goddess, but… didn’t that mean she would be gone? Gone with all the other gods?  But then how to explain the continued existence of her island? How to account for all of the half-wild, half-tame animals?

Annabeth was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice they were approaching a break in the trees until they had stepped right into a wide, sunlit clearing.

At the center of it stood the most beautiful courtyard Annabeth had ever seen – the walls were covered in intricate frescoes depicting beautiful women (naked and dancing) and wild animals (presumably also naked, also possibly dancing). An enormous, bubbling fountain sat at the center, surrounded by delicate, brightly painted statues.

It all gave Annabeth the distinct impression that she was a small fly being drawn into the mouth of a carnivorous plant.

A fortuitous start, then.

She looked at Percy, who had a hand on Riptide, then moved towards the courtyard. Or, more precisely, towards the lone figure standing at its edge.

A woman with long, dark hair and deep-set eyes stood at the marble archway. She was draped in green and gold fabrics and covered in glittering jewels. Her gaze traveled across the Argo crew, sweeping from left to right and then left again, before they landed on Annabeth in the middle.

A spark of recognition gleamed in those wild eyes, making the hairs on the back of Annabeth’s neck rise.

When the woman spoke, her voice was cool and crisp— it conjured an image in Annabeth’s mind of water flowing from a particularly cold mountain spring.

“Mortal men,” she sneered. “It’s been at least a millennia since I last had to see one of those.”

Her eyes narrowed at Annabeth. “Why did you bring them here?”

Huh.

That was unexpected.

“They’re part of my crew, Lady Circe. I couldn’t just leave them behind,” was all she could think of to say.

Circe sighed—an exhausted, dramatic sound — then turned her eyes to Reyna.

“If you’re looking for your sister, she’s inside.”

Reyna was off like a shot, no questions asked, leaving the rest of them stunned to silence in her wake. Her sister? Was that why she had agreed to help them?

Circe turned and began to walk away before stopping mid-stride to give them all an impatient look.

“Well?” The sorceress demanded. “Are you coming, or shall I tell my pets they’re free to try and eat you?”

Percy’s eyes met Annabeth’s, and she shrugged.

Might as well.

He crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow.

“If you say anything about the spirit of the quest, Wise Girl, I’ll make you regret it.”

She tried not to smile too widely as she replied,  “Will you? Well, in that case, we should definitely follow her. Spirit of the quest and all that.”

Annabeth, Piper, and Hazel sat on a lush silk settee while Circe lounged across the table from them.

She’d refused to let the men sit, only inviting the three women to make themselves comfortable. Annabeth looked over her shoulder to where Percy stood and tried not to laugh as he attempted to keep a pig from nosing at his pockets.

“I’m reformed, truly. But that doesn’t mean I have to let them on my good furniture,” Circe cooed.

She waved her hand imperially and one of her servants brought a tray of drinks towards them. Annabeth took the cup but didn’t drink from it. When Hazel had brought the drink to her lips, Annabeth had given her one quick, forbidding look, and Hazel had immediately put it back down.

“You’re not thirsty?”

There was a threat sitting just under the surface of her question.

“While I’m grateful for your hospitality, Lady Circe, I don’t generally make it a habit to drink—”

She sniffed delicately at the drink in her hands.

“Poppy? And… valerian? And… skullcap, too? Goodness. That would get the job done.”

Circe’s smile might make a shark feel fear.

Annabeth lifted her chin.  She could be scared later.

“I suppose I should have known better than to underestimate one of dear Odysseus’s descendants.”

Annabeth stared at the wild woman and, despite her best efforts, she could feel her mask of calm begin slipping slowly off her face.

“I – What? Odysseus?”

“The resemblance is uncanny, really. If you know what to look for. In the jaw, the nose, and the lips, mostly. I’d recognize those lips anywhere. Then, of course, there’s those eyes.”

Annabeth tilted her head and fixed those eyes on Circe’s smile.

“I suppose mortals wouldn’t know anymore, would they? Wouldn’t recognize the eyes that once belonged to the goddess of Wisdom.”

Her world began to tilt on its axis.

“Excuse me?”

“A distant relation, I think. Seeing as there’s no magic in your veins, you poor dear. But there’s no denying it.”

She supposed it shouldn’t have come as quite as much of a shock as it did. The gods hadn’t exactly been known for their restraint— the extent of their progeny was... prolific. Their descendants were numerous.

Annabeth cleared her throat; she could consider the implications of her heritage later. For the moment, that information changed nothing.

“We’re on our way to find the Doors of Death, Lady. Odysseus’s instructions brought us here to you.”

Circe rolled her eyes and motioned again to one of her servants. When the servant bent down, she whispered something into the woman’s ear.

Then, finally, she turned back to Annabeth.

“Very well. If you’d like to pass through the Doors of Death, you must first undergo a transformation. What would you like to become? Something large? Something small? I could use a few ducks to keep the pests at bay. How about I turn you all into ducks?”

Annabeth could feel Hazel and Piper stiffen on either side of her.

“None of us have plans to become one of your pets, Lady Circe,” she deadpanned.

Circe pursed her lips and lifted her brows just the slightest millimeter, giving Annabeth a disapproving look.

“There are rules, child. Did you humble yourselves to pay homage to a forgotten god?”

“Yes.”

“Did you prove your courage by besting the monstrous maidens of Hades’ homeland without killing them?”

“…yes?”

Lucky they hadn’t gone with Percy’s plan, then.

“Did you resist the temptations of the siren’s song? Did you face the pain of truth?”

Annabeth nodded. Resistance might be too strong a word for what she’d done, but she had listened and still lived. So it probably counted.

“Right. Well, the next thing on the list is a show of adaptability and resilience through transformation. You can’t step between worlds without it. The gates just wouldn’t open for you. And that’s where I come in. So… duck? Or maybe you’d prefer to become an owl, given your heritage?”

Annabeth closed her eyes for just a moment.

They hadn’t come this far just to have to turn back at this, almost final hurdle.

“Do… all of us need to be transformed?”

Circe’s smile grew wider.

“Not at all, child. Only one of you must pass the test for the ship to be let through.”

There was a hand on her shoulder. Percy’s, she knew, without having to turn and look.

Circe’s upper lip curled in displeasure.

Annabeth pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to ease the growing headache in her temple.

She felt Percy’s breath on the tip of her ear as he bent to whisper.

“You’d better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking, sweetheart. If anyone is going to risk spending the rest of their life as an owl, it’s not going to be you.”

They were at an impasse, then.

Percy would never allow her to be turned, nor would she allow him to take the risk.

“I can do it,” said a deep, gentle voice from behind them. Annabeth felt Hazel stiffen beside her. “I don’t mind, honestly. I can be a duck for a little while. Or a lion. Or a bear. It might be fun. Just come back and get me when you’re done.”

She shook her head. She wouldn’t let Frank— wonderful, kind, patient, loving Frank—- do that to himself. Besides, he’d need to be with them on the ship for his transformation to count, and Annabeth doubted Circe relinquished her pets all that easily once she had them in her grasp.

“It should be me.”

Leo’s assertion took her entirely by surprise. She’d never heard him sound so serious, or so… bereft.

“I’m the one who won’t be missed,” he said, and Annabeth’s chest cleaved in half.

“That’s out of the question,” she hissed, a bit taken aback at the ferocity in her voice, at the same time that Percy snapped out an angry, “Not fucking happening, Leo . ”

She wouldn’t allow any of her friends to put themselves at risk of spending the rest of their days as a feathered fowl on Circe’s island.

Annabeth’s mind was spinning. A few days ago, she would have sacrificed herself, regardless of how it would hurt her family to see her in pain. A few weeks ago, she would have let them all drink Circe’s potion without an ounce of guilt.

But things had changed.

She had changed.

She had… changed .

Why did it have to be a physical transformation?

Hadn’t she been transformed in these past few weeks? Hadn’t her entire world transformed?

She lifted her eyes back to the sorceress.

“I am already transformed,” she said, quietly.

The enchantress tilted her head, considering. But she was quiet for a little too long.

“I am already transformed,” Annabeth said again, louder this time, and with more conviction. “I am not who I was when we began this quest.”

Shifting thresholds, loss and gain.

“I’m no longer a priestess of the Athena.”

She hadn't realized it until now, but as she said it aloud, she knew it to be true. Did she still need to renounce her vows formally? Or had all the sex and murder done the trick? Maybe she should burn a book, just to make sure.

A very small book.

Oh, gods damn it, she would never be able to burn a book.

Regardless:

“I have gained a new life. A new family. A new purpose. I am already transformed.”

Percy’s grip on her shoulder tightened. She reached out to take Piper and Hazel’s hands, their palms slipped into hers without hesitation. Hazel intertwined their fingers together. Piper's thumb rubbed against her knuckles.

Sisters.

Circe’s eyes narrowed into slits, and her mouth hardened into a flat line. For several heartbeats, Annabeth wondered if she’d just signed their death warrants.

Then Circe smiled— a mostly genuine smile, with only a tiny trace of malice in it.

“How refreshing. Usually, people just take me up on my first offer. Odysseus, at least, was smart enough to have me transform his crew instead of himself.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin on her palm.

“So imbecilic, aren’t they? We forget how many kinds of transformations we go through even as we seem to stay the same.”

Then she gave a little discontented sigh.

“Or mortals do, at least.”

The sorceress stood up.

“Well, you can all go now. Tell that other one that no, she cannot take her sister with her. And no, there’s no way I’ll shorten her sentence of service. She’ll see her sister in fifteen years. No more, no less.”

Annabeth’s stomach clenched. She realized with a jolt of shame how cold she’d been towards Reyna, how distant, simply because of her own selfish jealousy and shallow envy.

“You’re not open to any kind of agreement?” Percy asked from behind Annabeth’s shoulder. “Name your price.”

Circe laughed.

“My price? For her sister’s freedom? Hylla is one of my favorite servants. I’d take your gray-eyed girl in exchange, perhaps.”

For a moment, Annabeth considered the offer. She’d been a servant of the Athena; how much more difficult would it be to become one of Circe’s attendants?

Reyna was better suited to help the Argo crew than Annabeth. Her sister probably would be, too. Her friends would hurt for a little while, but they wouldn’t need to worry that she’d been turned into an animal.

Percy would move on to some other adventure with some other woman.

(Which would happen eventually, inevitably. And at least this way it would happen on Annabeth’s terms. At least this way the pain would be of her own making.)

And Annabeth would be…

Well, she’d survive it.

But then Percy’s hand curled around the front of Annabeth’s collar, pressing her firmly back into him.

“No.” His response was curt, even outright rude. “Annabeth stays with us.”

Relief rushed through her veins— relief and then shame in equal measure. How selfish, that she would cling to this life that didn’t truly belong to her at the expense of another.

“Alright. Then maybe I’d trade her for you,” Circe purred, her eyes flicking to Percy’s face. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the warmth of a man in my bed.”

Annabeth wondered if Circe’s blood ran red like a mortal’s or gold like a god’s.

She’d be interested to find out.

“I belong to another at the moment,” was all Percy said.

Annabeth felt a brief flare of jealousy before she remembered the marks she’d left on Percy’s neck.

Hers. He meant he belonged to her.

But…only for the moment. Just as she had thought.

With an impatient sound, Circe stood and made to move away.

“Wait!” Annabeth cried out, standing before she could stop herself. The enchantress eyed her like a cat considering what to do with a mouse.

Annabeth rushed through her question, ignoring the spark of anxiety in her chest. “How do we get to the Doors? To the serpents of Hephaestus?”

The sorceress sneered, but said, “Go west to the gap at the end of the world. The bridge between us and the endless sea. That is the threshold, child.”

West to the gap at the end of the world.

The Pillars of Heracles, maybe?

“One more question—“

“Annabeth…” Percy growled.

“How are you here? In the mortal world, I mean?”

The enchantress considered her carefully. Was she deciding what to say, or wondering what Annabeth would look like as a duck?

Annabeth held Circe's gaze expectantly, and she heard Percy curse under his breath.

“I’m not in the mortal world, girl,” Circe finally said. “I haven’t left my island. You all just opened a rift into my world. I merely exist as we all do, now, thanks to Zeus and his stupid insecurities. Outside of space and time. Outside the reach of most mortal minds and prayers and weapons. Most mortals, that is, except perhaps a confluence of... well, it doesn't particularly matter.”

She sounded vaguely melancholy, and the displeasure on her face softened into a kind of wistfulness.

Annabeth decided she could chance one more question. Because it did matter. Whatever "it" was, it mattered very much.

“But what about—”

“ Enough, Annabeth.” Percy’s hand gripped tightly at her bicep. “We’ve already overstayed our welcome.”

The look in Circe’s eyes made Annabeth take a step back.

She wasn’t considering how Annabeth would look as a duck anymore, but rather how she’d look as a wolf’s dinner.

Right, then. She would listen to Percy. That would have to be enough for now.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Circe,” she said, as quickly as she could.

Then Circe dismissed them with an impatient wave of her hand, and they were corralled by her servants back through the marble courtyard.

“What about Reyna?” Hazel asked the servants.

“She will meet you at the shore,” one replied. And then they didn’t so much as acknowledge the Argo crew again for the rest of the journey back down the mountain.

“That pig ate the emergency honey cakes I brought for you,” Percy mumbled grouchily as they found their way to the beach. Annabeth patted him on the shoulder while her heart did a little flip.

As promised, Reyna met them at the shore. She was standing by the waves and watching the sunset touch the horizon as her hair, usually contained in a tight braid, whipped wildly around her head. When Annabeth got closer, she could see the red rim around the woman’s eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw.

Curiously, it was Nico who stepped forward to take her arm and lead her back towards the Argo. Their heads bent towards one another in intimate conversation.

The moment they were all back aboard their ship, Circe's island began to fade. It was as if a tapestry of their own world was being woven just in front of it, slowly obscuring it from view until it disappeared entirely, leaving them adrift in the bright blue ocean once again.

Nico and Reyna immediately went down into the galley with Grover, who had coaxed them with promises of treats.

Annabeth caught hold of Leo’s arm before he could disappear into his workshop.

“I would miss you, Leo. If you weren’t here. I would really, really miss you.”

The generally cheerful, good-humored man wouldn’t even look her in the eyes as he nodded.

“Okay, Annabeth,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

And oh, she just couldn’t take it – that dejected little furrow of his brows that he was clearly trying so hard to hide. Without letting herself think about it, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him as tightly as she could.

“You’re an excellent partner in crime,” she said vehemently into his shoulder. “And I never had a brother to get into trouble with before. So you’re very important to me. Okay?”

His arms came around her middle, and he squeezed her back with equal force.

“You’re important to me, too,” he mumbled.

When they broke apart, Percy was there, scowling down at them both.

“Leo Valdez,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you ever say that shit about not being missed again,  I’ll…” He paused, presumably to come up with a sufficiently terrifying threat. “I’ll take your tool belt hostage and make you sit still for an extended period of time while we all explain what we like most about you in really long, drawn-out, old-timey monologues. Got it?”

Leo grinned, but it still didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Got it, boss.”

Will came up behind them then, took firm hold of Leo’s bicep, and dragged him below deck. Annabeth recognized that look on Will’s face: his mother-hen expression. Leo was about to be smothered with militant affection, whether he felt he deserved it or not.

Then Percy, complaining that he stank of pigs and needed a shower, left, and Jason took the helm.

Annabeth sat with Piper, Frank, and Hazel by the mizzenmast, debating the merits of becoming a duck versus becoming a bear until the stars grew bright and Hazel began to yawn. Frank scooped her up in one swift movement, and she waved at Annabeth from her perch as he carried her to bed.

Percy returned not long after, and Jason and Piper quietly took their leave.

Then she was… not quite alone under the vast carpet of the Milky Way.

Up above her head, Percy stood at the helm once again.

For the moment , her heart reminded her with every beat. For the moment. For the moment. For the moment.

She was putting together the puzzle of him in her mind.

He would not warm anyone else's bed and hers at the same time. But he wouldn’t be hers forever. Although his friendship and loyalty were as certain as the stars, their physical relationship, his affection, felt suddenly fleeting.

It made sense, she supposed. He was a wanderer and wouldn’t want to be tied to one port for too long.

The realization was igniting a war inside her chest.

On the one side:

Have all of him while you still can.

Because then at least she would know what it was like. To… well, maybe not to love and be loved, but something close to it. To care and be cared for.

The other half of her, though, shied away from that idea as if it were a rod of molten-hot metal.

If you stop it all now, the other half argued, it will hurt less later.

The war was won when her body moved of its own volition, as it so often did when it came to that man.

The instant her foot hit the top of the stairs, he reached out, tucking his fingers into her waistband and pulling her to him.

He smiled at her in that crooked and tender way he had, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Ouch.

Oh, ouch.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, and she found that the pain began ebbing away as she allowed herself to lean into it, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.

“That was some pretty quick thinking there, Wise Girl.”

“That requirement was just rife with loopholes. Absolutely begging to be taken advantage of.”

“Oh? And you’d know all about that?”

His amused double entendre was abundantly clear. She glowered at him, but there was no anger in it.

She’d left herself wide open for that one, she supposed. (She would not tell him that, though, as it would probably lead to even more salacious innuendos.)

“You pirates,” she chastised, crossing her arms with an indignant little huff. “So crude. So crass. That was just low-hanging fruit, Percy.”

Percy cocked his head to the side and studied her disapproving expression. Then he brought one hand up to tap against his chin like he was pondering some great mystery.

“You know,” he finally said, a mischievous glint gleaming in his eye. “You’d have made a pretty cute duck.”

“What in the entire expanse of the empire does that even mean ?”

Annabeth tried to look as un-duckish as possible.

“See? Cute,” he insisted. “Especially when your feathers get ruffled.”

“You're ridiculous,” she huffed.

She wasn’t smiling. She absolutely wasn’t smiling. And she wasn’t biting her lower lip to keep from smiling.

“I think you mean riduckulous.”

“I—”

Annabeth blinked. Percy pressed his lips together; there was a slightly unhinged, gleeful glint in his eyes.

“You just think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Think? Wise Girl, I know I’m funny. I’ve got decades of empirical evidence to prove it.”

Somehow, she kept a straight face as she said, “I doubt it’s well-collected evidence. There’s nothing at all scientific about your studies.”

“Want to see some graphs I drew? There’s a strong positive correlation between me talking and me being funny.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest and groaned. His shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter.

Ouch, said her heart.

Ouch, she agreed.

Had he been less endearing, had he been all harsh handsomeness and captain-like swagger, the pain wouldn’t have been quite so bad.

Before she could stop herself, she began to wonder if he would be like this with Reyna next. (Because she was sure it would be Reyna, next.)  If he would help soften the other woman’s loneliness the way he had soothed her own.

Annabeth would try to be graceful about letting him go when the time came.

She was learning to be brave, and she would be brave about it. She wouldn’t let her jealousy tarnish their friendship. She wouldn’t allow herself to treat Reyna poorly when...

When her moment ended.

“You seem sad for someone who just experienced several particularly excellent jokes."

His voice had dipped lower, losing some of its lightness as concern darkened its edges.

Annabeth lifted her shoulders in a pretty pathetic approximation of a shrug.

She didn’t have to be graceful just yet. For the time being, she would let herself be a little bit sad. That was fine. That was allowable.

He tugged at her hair, a sharp little yank. The kind of gesture that told her he expected an answer.

“My mind is going a million meters a minute,” she admitted.

One of his hands came up to palm the back of her head.

“Want to tell me why?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

They were silent for several long seconds. She listened to his breathing and the hush of the waves. Took in his scent and the feel of his body. He fingered her hair absentmindedly.

“Do you want my help with it?” He finally asked.

“How?” Her question sounded more like a plea.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

“I bet I could find a way to quiet your mind, honey," he murmured. "Help you let go. Maybe help you sink a little bit, if you’d like.”

“Sink?”

“You ever feel like you’re drifting when you do just what I say?”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of his shirt. Gods, he smelled good. Or maybe it was just that she associated his smell with good things. With safety and pleasure and…friendship.

“That’s the sort of thing I mean. Would you want that?”

He sounded a little bit tentative like he was worried he’d overstepped. She considered his offer for a moment.

Something about this interaction felt different than the other times they’d been intimate. It had the hallmarks of something more intentional, more intense, than what she’d experienced before.

Was she ready for that?

Did she want it? Really and truly?

Annabeth searched the reaches of her mind, but every excuse not to say yes felt flimsy, and they disintegrated under even cursory examination.

So…

“Yes, please,” she finally breathed, and his shoulders relaxed as he hummed in approval.

“I want you to go to our quarters, get a nice, soft pillow, and bring it back up here.”

Part of her wanted to ask why, but the anticipation, the mystery, was so delicious that for the first time in recorded history, she didn’t — she just held her tongue.

She slipped out of his arms and went to fetch a pillow, her face flushed with a combination of shyness and excitement.

What if someone saw her? Asked her what she was doing? What would she say?

“Oh, I’m just going to take a nap up top. Want to sleep under the stars.”

That sounded plausible.

Annabeth picked a pillow at random and then stood for a moment in the center of the room. She took a deep breath in through her nose, and let it out through her mouth.

Then, bravery fortified and pillow in hand, she stepped out the door.

Chapter 22

Chapter Notes

Because I can't leave you all hanging, wondering what the pillow is for. Also, I need to update the tags to include orgasm delay / denial. Just FYI. Also maybe I should add something about dirty talk? BC this Percy is a chatty Cathy.

Her legs trembled as she walked up the steps to the quarterdeck. Her breathing was shallow as she moved back into the circle of Percy’s arms.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His tone was quiet, intimate, and laced with concern.

“Just a bit nervous.”

His hand cupped her cheek, tilting up her face until she met his eyes so he could study her expression.

“Nervous or uncomfortable? You’re not obligated to do anything. You can go right back to bed, and I’ll be there to join you in a few hours.”

“Not uncomfortable,” she replied, her voice getting a little stronger. She’d already decided, and she felt confident in her decision. “Except, what if someone sees us?”

“Everyone’s asleep. It’s just us and the stars, and I don’t think they’ll mind.”

Percy bent to kiss her, gently — just a press of his closed lips to hers. When he pulled back, there was an emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t quite name. Whatever the feeling, it was intense enough to make her heart stutter.

“You are the most important thing right now, okay? So if you stop feeling good, I need you to tell me. Please.”

“Yes, Captain,” she breathed.

His lips curved up into a smile.

“There you go. Such a good girl.”

Then his eyes flicked down to the pillow she had clutched in her hands.

“Can you put that pillow down at my feet, honey?”

She nodded and carefully placed it between them.  As she began to stand back up again, his hand came to her shoulder with soft but unyielding pressure.

“Go ahead and rest your knees right on it for me—”

She did, noting how he tucked his hand under her bicep to keep her from falling too heavily.

“— that’s right. Just like that.”

Percy pulled up a stool and sat down.

“Spread your knees a little wider, sweetheart, and settle down on your heels. There you go.”

She did, and her hands fumbled as she struggled to find a comfortable resting position.

“Now put your hands behind your back and lean into me.”

Was she doing this right? Was there more to it?

Wouldn’t he get bored, just sitting here?

What if she didn’t like it?

What if he didn’t like it with her, and he decided she was too inexperienced and not worth the effort?

“I can just about see those wheels spinning, Annabeth. Try to focus on your breathing.”

His hand came to the top of her head, and he began to stroke her hair in long, slow, soothing movements.  She tried to synchronize her breathing to the steady movement of his hand.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“Listen to the waves, honey. The way they sound against our ship.”

Hush…hush…hush….

It helped. She could feel herself beginning to drift, just a little bit.

“Lay your cheek on my thigh, and close your eyes.”

Oh, that felt nice.

In.

Out.

“That’s right, just give me all your trust. I’ve got you. You can stop worrying for a little while.”

The thoughts that had been plaguing her mind began to fade, until there was only warmth and need between her thighs, the feel and the smell of Percy, the fabric of his pants against her cheek, and the haze.

She felt sublime .

A sigh of complete and utter pleasure slipped from her lips.

“So perfect for me,” Percy murmured.

And she began to sink in earnest, deeper and deeper until there was nothing but warmth and want and Percy.

In.

Stroke.

Out.

Stroke.

In.

Stroke.

Out.

Stroke.

Hush…. Hush…. Hush…. Hush….

In.

Stroke.

Out.

Stroke.

In.

Stroke.

Out.

Stroke.

Annabeth wasn’t sure just how much time had passed when she felt one finger tap lightly against her cheek. But she had a vague sense that it had been a while.

She blinked and looked up. Percy was smiling down at her.

“Feeling good?”

“Mmmmm.”

She blinked again. In a moment of clarity, she realized just how close she was to his length.

It was hard, and she could see the outline of it clearly from where she rested her head. Annabeth’s curiosity took hold of her, and she reached one tentative hand up to run her fingers over it.

Percy let out a moan.

Just one barely there touch, and she could make him sound like that ?

What if she touched a little more? What would it look like? What would it feel like?

What would it taste like?

She made a move to try and undo his laces, but Percy grasped her fingers in his hand before she could.

“You know the rule,” he rasped. “Ask me for what you want.”

She could do it. She was a grown woman with desires, not a scared, repressed priestess.

She could ask for what she wanted.

“I want…to see you.”

He tilted his head to the side, still expectant, and she realized her error. Her face turned bright red and he smiled.

“I mean,” she took a deep breath and tried again. “I would like to see your… cock. Please?”

His hands went to the laces of his pants, and slowly, so slowly  — he was teasing her, she realized —- he undid them.

Then he pulled himself out — and Annabeth gulped. Not twelve inches perhaps, but… that was nothing to scoff at.

She’d never seen one outside of a medical context. Had never seen a hard one outside of a textbook diagram.

“What do I do with it?”

“Anything you want, honey. Just, y’know, don’t be too rough.”

This time, when she reached her fingers up to him, he didn’t stop her. She ran them up and down the side of it— marveling at how velvety soft the skin of it was— then let her thumb rub over the tip.

Above her, Percy groaned.

Could she get him to make more noise? Maybe if she…

Carefully, cautiously, she circled her hand around him and began to move it up and down the shaft.

“Skies,” he gasped. “Annabeth— f uck, that feels good. Just a bit more pressure, honey?”

She tightened her grip.

“ Yes, good girl. Just like that.”

One of Percy’s hands fisted in her hair, the sharpness of the sensation had her rubbing her thighs together.  With her confidence and fascination growing, Annabeth leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of him.

“Oh, gods ,” he groaned, and Annabeth delighted in the sounds of his pleasure.

She was doing this to him. She was making him come apart.

“Use your tongue? That— yes, just like that.”

She licked along the side of his shaft, slow and exploratory. And gods she wanted more— more of him, more of his taste.

Annabeth put her lips around the tip and sucked, letting her tongue lave at the underside.

He tasted delicious— like salt and skin and himself, and he felt warm and heavy in her mouth.

“Doing so well. So, so good, honey,” he gasped. “Open that mouth a little more for me?”

She obeyed, and he slipped himself deeper inside.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching her under heavy-lidded eyes. “Gods, you’re so sweet with my cock in your mouth. You look so content, honey. Are you feeling good?”

She blinked dazedly and hummed in affirmation; his grip on her hair tightened.

“Would it be okay if I took control? Can I fuck that pretty mouth?”

Yes, she tried to gasp. Whatever he wanted to do to her, yes.

He must have understood the muffled sounds of excitement coming from her because he smiled.

“If it gets to be too much I want you to tap my thigh, okay?”

This time, he pulled her off of his cock to hear her response.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay, you’ll do what?”

“If it’s too much, I’ll tap your thigh.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth he pulled her back to his cock, and he opened for him gratefully.

“Relax your jaw. Just like that. All you have to do is keep it open for me. That’s a good girl.”

Then he was moving, pumping himself in and out of her mouth with shallow, languid thrusts, never going too deep, never touching the back of her throat. Annabeth tried to keep her jaw wide enough that her teeth wouldn’t scrape against him.

He watched her intently, his eyes never leaving her face.

Time and her mind both slipped through her fingers. She thought about what she must look like, on her knees with her mouth open, his hand in her hair, his cock between her lips.

The image sent a rush of heat between her thighs. She moved her fingers down to try and relieve some of the ache.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself, sweetheart. Keep your hands on my thighs.”

It was a struggle to obey, but she did.

“Good girl.”

Hearing those two words was well worth the struggle.

Whenever her jaw got tired, she tapped at his thigh, and he pulled out of her mouth while she recovered, her cheek resting on his knee, his hand brushing her cheek. Then she would open, and he’d press himself back into her with a groan.

When her knees began to get sore, and Annabeth shifted uncomfortably, his hand came to cup at her cheek.

“Your legs getting tired?”

She nodded.

“Okay, sweetheart. Where do you want me to come?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question, and it must have shown on her face.

“I can come in your mouth, but I don’t know that you’ll like the taste, and I don’t want to do that before you know what to expect. How about I come on those pretty tits of yours, hmm?”

That sounded good to Annabeth, so she nodded again. But then he took himself out of her mouth, which was which was very much not what she wanted.

Percy chuckled at the sound of displeasure she made.

“Hades, you’re such a good girl,” he groaned, stroking himself. His hand moved much more practiced speed and efficiency than hers had. “You like sucking my cock?”

“So much,” Annabeth breathed, not even bothering to try and maintain her dignity. In part because it was the truth, but also because…

Well, with the way he was looking at her, how could she possibly ever feel ashamed again?

“Unbutton your shirt for me?”

With quick, inelegant movements, she undid the buttons and shrugged her shirt off of her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up.

His eyes moved from her face to her chest, then back to her face.

“So pretty,” he moaned. “So perfect.”

Then he let out a rasping, guttural, groan and Annabeth felt the warmth of his release on her collarbones and chest.

When he finished and his breathing began to slow, she trailed a finger in the spend on her chest and brought it to her lips, curious.

Percy watched her with a near-feral expression as she flicked out her tongue to taste the fluid.

It… wasn’t the most pleasant thing she’d ever ingested, but it also wasn’t terrible, and the look on Percy’s face made it worth the taste.

So she did it again, smirking up at him as she licked at her finger like his spend was as sweet as honey.

Then she did it a third time — finding that maybe… maybe the taste was growing on her a little bit. Perhaps it was because of her frame of mind, or perhaps it was because she was tasting him, but something about it made her hungry for more.

“You are—" he seemed at a loss for words. Then, “Come here.”

He stood, then reached down and helped her to her feet, and she wobbled, a little unsteady.  He pulled her to him and pressed a fierce kiss to her mouth, delving his tongue between her lips as if to chase the taste of himself on her tongue.

When he broke away, he was panting slightly.

“How do you feel?” He whispered, stepping back to take in the sight of her and lace up his pants.

“Happy,” she admitted. “And proud. And also… tired.”

And then there was the need— the warm and coiling need in the pit of her stomach.

His gaze was affectionate as he assessed the faraway look in her eyes. Then his hand came up, and he began to rub the rest of his release into the skin of her chest, neck, and breasts. He brought his thumb up to her lips, and she licked away the last drop of him without having to be asked.

“I want my come to stay on your skin for a little while longer, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Don’t wash it off tonight?”

She nodded, his request was making the ache grow stronger than her exhaustion.

“Words, Annabeth.”

“Yes. I’ll keep your come on my skin.”

Satisfied, he helped button her shirt back up, then pulled her back to him. She curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt.

“Did I do alright?” The question escaped before she could stop it.

“Alright? Honey, you were perfect . Beyond perfect. That was the single best orgasm of my life.”

Then he tucked her into his chest, her head coming to rest just below his collarbones. His palm pressed against her temple and his fingers curled around the top of her head.

She nuzzled into his skin, breathing in the smell that she loved so much— clean leather and the sea breeze. And he made a low, rumbly noise that made Annabeth sigh.

“I didn’t plan this out very well, I think.”

“Hmmm?”

“I want to get you to bed. But I don’t want you to be alone, just in case you drop. And Jason’s not due to take over for another two hours.”

She didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but she appreciated the concern in his voice.

“Oh. A conundrum. How about I just fall asleep right here?”

She was so comfortable that falling asleep while standing in the circle of his embrace didn’t seem too far out of the realm of possibility.

“Brilliant as always, Wise Girl,” he said, but then he gently disentangled himself. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

He was gone and back in less than a minute, brandishing a bundle of cloth that he strung up against the corners of the railing.

A hammock.

“C’mere. Rest for a little while.”

She did as he bade her; from this angle, she could see the entire expanse of the starlit sky. She should sleep up here more often.

He crouched down beside her as she made herself comfortable.

Before sleep could take her, she asked, “You’re not going to make me orgasm?”

He laughed, and there was something triumphant in the sound. She felt his knuckles stroke against her cheek.

“You know what, honey? I think I’d like to make you wait. Ruffle your feathers a little bit, so to speak.”

“Tyrant. Power hungry, cruel, tyrant,” She grumbled without any real ire.

“Mmhmm.”

“Maybe I’ll just take care of myself.”

His eyes narrowed, but he was trying not to smile. Even in the dim light, she could tell.

“And what if I tell you I don’t want you to? That I want you to wait for me? That the next time you come, I want it to be on my tongue.”

When had her thighs begun rubbing together?

She groaned and covered her face with her arms.

“Would you want to be good for me, honey?”

“Yes,” she muttered reluctantly.

“You don’t have to, you know. You can say no.”

“Still yes.”

His hand trailed softly against the sensitive skin of her inner arm.

“I don’t think I deserve you,” he whispered, and a rush of warmth flooded through her, chasing away the pang.

She tried to think of something profound to say, but the warmth had brought sleep-laden heaviness with it. So as she succumbed to her exhaustion, all she mumbled was, “You can still have me, anyways.”

Annabeth was having a very nice dream.

She was being carried, and she was warm, and she was safe.

“— get you to bed,” her favorite voice was saying.

“Oh, Hera,” said another voice. She knew that voice, too. “You’re done for, man.”

There was a laugh and a sound of agreement.

“You’ve got to tell her.”

“I don’t want her to feel trapped.”

The voices sounded fainter. Snippets of the exchange drifted in and out of her mind.

“—feel loved?”

“— why… like me? … a mess. Hasn’t... forgiven me…”

She was moving. Or someone was moving.

“…one day…”

She wanted to keep listening to that voice. It sounded so sad. She wanted to know why. But the dream fizzled out before she could figure out the reason.

And when Annabeth woke up the next morning, she’d all but forgotten it.

Chapter 23

Chapter Summary

The servants of Hephaestus

Stand guard before the doors.

Remember there the golden rule.

Consider theirs and yours.

Chapter Notes

I adore you all <3

This chapter is almost just entirely smut.

According to Jason’s star charts, the 7th day of the 7th month was just three days away. As Annabeth has suspected, time moved faster outside of Circe’s island than on it.

Now there was nothing left to do but let Brizo’s wind guide them in the right direction and hope.

And plan.

Because they still needed to defeat Hephaestus’ serpents, which were, if the stories could be believed, each a good 10 meters of pure celestial bronze.

“Remember there the golden rule,” she muttered as she sat with Leo and Percy over an afternoon snack.

“So they can only be killed by gold?” Leo asked. “We’ve got gold. Imperial gold, even.”

Annabeth bit at her bottom lip; she probably would have bitten through the skin had Percy’s thumb not pulled it gently out from between her teeth.

Her eyes flashed to his, then away, her cheeks flushing as she thought back to last night. Then to this morning, when she’d reluctantly washed the remnants of his spend from her skin.

The heat in her cheeks burned twice as strong when she remembered the fact that her bleeding had stopped this morning, and she hadn’t told him yet. He’d been gone when she woke up, and then Will had needed her help, and now they were here.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, distracted. “Maybe?”

Percy’s hand drifted to her inner thigh, and his fingers began to stroke her gently, just a few centimeters from her apex.

The touch wasn’t inherently sexual, but Annabeth’s body responded like it was. She tried (unsuccessfully, she was sure) to hide the way her hips were shifting beneath the table.

He was touching her so easily. As if he had every right to touch her whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

She bit back a groan at the thought.

“Besides, it says the golden rule. Is that maybe an… imperial order about gold?”

“My mother taught me about the golden rule,” Percy said, his voice not giving any hint as to what his fingers were doing. “She always said that ‘those who have the gold, rule,’ if that’s at all helpful.”

It wasn’t.

Maybe they needed someone a bit more well-adjusted to help answer this particular riddle.

“Can you ask the rest of the crew for their input, Leo?”

Was she being too obvious with that dismissal? Maybe. Did she have the capacity to care? Not at the moment.

“I’ll see what they think,” he said, and then he was gone, leaving her blissfully alone with Percy.

His hand moved up her thigh until it rested directly where she needed it most.

“Something you want to ask me for, Wise Girl?”

His breath was hot on her ear, and she shuddered. Her hips began to shift in earnest so that she was rubbing herself against his palm like some kind of wanton woman.

She supposed maybe it was because she was a wanton woman.

“Mmm, so desperate, honey. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” He asked, grinning down at her with far, far too much delight for her peace of mind; then he began to remove his hand. “I guess you don’t want –”

Annabeth clawed at his wrist, forcing his hand back between her legs.

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed, and he laughed.

“Alright then. Tell me, what are you desperate for?”

“ You ,” she whined, dropping her head against his arm. Percy’s other hand fisted into her hair and he pulled her out of her hiding spot.

“Me? You have me, though,” he said with a tone of mock confusion. “I’m watching you rub that greedy little cunt of yours all over my hand right now.”

She groaned and half-heartedly tried to pull her head out of his grip, to no avail.

She had to look directly into his ravenous eyes as she said, “My bleeding stopped.”

One second, they were both sitting on galley benches. The next, he had her scooped up into his arms, and he was practically sprinting to their bed.

They passed Will in the hallway, and he just grinned and waved as he pressed himself against the wall to make space for them.

Annabeth hid her face in Percy’s neck.

“Barbarian,” she muttered.

“And proud of it.”

The door to their room was already ajar, and Percy pushed it all the way open with his foot before depositing her carefully onto the bed.

“Strip for me, honey?” He asked as he turned to close and bolt the door.

She pulled her shirt up over her head, but her fingers paused when they reached for her pants.

Then Percy’s hands were there, covering hers. He lifted one to his mouth and kissed it gently, keeping his heavy-lidded gaze on her.

“If you don’t like it, we stop. Okay? And I’ll get you off with my fingers instead.”

“Alright,” she nodded, relieved. “But what if you don’t like it?”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Not gonna happen, Wise Girl. I promise you I’m going to love this.”

His fingers went to her laces, and he pulled her pants over her hips and down her legs, leaving her almost bare—- in nothing but her underwear.

Kneeling above her, he trailed his fingers across the lines of her body.

“Can I see you, too?” She asked, and in a heartbeat, his shirt was on the floor, and she could see the full expanse of his chest.

Oh, gods, he was beautiful. Her eyes trailed down him, lingering on the tattoos, on the V of his hips, on the line of dark hair that disappeared below his waistband.

He watched her hungry perusal with a pleased expression.

“You like what you see?”

“Mmhmm.”

He shot her an arrogant grin. Then his fingertips were on her again, brushing against her — up and down her stomach and along the sensitive skin of her inner arms.

Annabeth shivered. Goosebumps broke out wherever his fingers touched her, and his self-satisfied look told her he’d seen them, too.

He’d barely even touched her yet, but she could feel herself getting ludicrously wet already.

He lifted her wrist to his lips and pressed them against her pulse. Then, slowly, he began to kiss up her arm, and when he reached her inner elbow, his tongue gave one long lick against the skin.

“ Percy!” She pleaded as her hips bucked against empty air.

He hummed.

“So sensitive, Annabeth. Makes me want to take a bit of time to see where else makes you react like that.”

To her desperate mind, it sounded like a threat.

“ Pleasepleaseplease,” she begged, and he grinned.

“When you beg it makes me want to make you wait even longer. Turn over.”

She glared at him, channeling every ounce of indignation she had left into her expression.

“Percy, you’re supposed to be—”

“I’m going to do what I want with you, honey,” he intoned. “I’m happy to draw this out for hours. Make you beg until you lose your voice. Do you want me to do that?”

The effect of his softly spoken warning was immediate; Annabeth shook her head, feeling genuinely anxious about the possibility that she might have to wait hours for some release.

“No? Okay then. Turn. Over. ”

She flipped onto her stomach.

“Good girl. I think maybe I need to teach you a few things about patience, hmm? Maybe work on that stubborn streak of yours while I’m at it.”

One of his hands pushed her hair away from the nape of her neck, while the other he placed flat against her upper thigh.

“You’ve got such a pretty ass, Annabeth.”

His fingers ghosted along the juncture of her legs. She lifted her hips, trying to force a stronger touch, but he just moved his hand away with a wry laugh.

“You know what an ass like this needs?”

“What?” She snapped, her petulant question muffled by the bed.

The sound of his hand hitting her skin was more startling than the feeling. The swat was light— gentle, even. But all the same, it made her jump, and then moan — a deep and throaty sound.

“Is that a good moan or a bad moan?”

“Good,” she huffed, and he hummed in satisfaction.

Then he returned his attention to the back of her neck, first with his fingers, then with his lips. Just barely there caresses, but they made Annabeth’s whole body spasm.

His mouth moved down her spine, stopping to test the sensitivity of each individual vertebrae.

She cried out for him, again and again, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her legs and hips shifting as she tried desperately to soothe the building ache, but he refused to take mercy on her.

When he reached the dip in her low back just above her backside, she felt a throb travel through to her clit that stole her breath away.

“Turn over,” he murmured.

She obeyed without a second thought.

He moved back up her body, and his tongue flicked over her nipples, just briefly, enough of a tease for her to feel a moment of hope before he left her begging again.

“ Pleasepleasepleaseplaseplease,” she sobbed.

“So sweet when you beg,” he crooned. “Go on, keep begging, and maybe I’ll make you feel good soon.”

She was lost in a wave of need, and it pulled her under. The longer he made her wait, the better that wave felt.

Please , she begged, but please what? Please keep making her wait? Please let her be good? Please let her come?

All of it. All at once.

He kissed down her stomach, stopping to caress each rib and then again to delve his tongue into her navel.

Annabeth was sure the words she was babbling, her feeble attempts at negotiation, were complete nonsense. It didn’t matter, though. Eloquent or not, every attempt she made to speed things along fell on deaf ears.

Then finally, finally his hands went to her thighs. And she was so insensate with anticipation that there was not a trace of insecurity in her when he finally shifted down the bed and settled himself between them.

“Spread your legs wider for me.”

She did, and then she tilted her hips up to his face. An offering, if he would take it.

Please, please take it.

He could see everything. All of her. And rather than make her feel anxious, the thought just made her buck her hips with abandon.

His mouth went to the soft skin of her inner thigh and he bit down —hard— sucking at the tender skin until he left a bruise.

She moaned at the pain and the pleasure and writhed beneath him— trying to shift away? Trying to get closer? Not even Aphrodite could have known.

When he moved away an inch to admire his work, she found her answer in the dismay that surged through her the moment his lips left her skin.

“I want to keep my marks between your thighs. Remind you just who belongs here.”

Leave all your marks on me, she thought she said, but she couldn’t be quite sure.

Then he tilted his head and bit down on the other side.

Annabeth was sure she’d soaked through her underwear. Was certain she was dripping onto the sheets. Her suspicions were confirmed when Percy ran a finger along the now-saturated cloth.

“So wet, honey. Who made your desperate cunt this wet?”

“ You, ” she gasped, hoping it was the answer he wanted.

“And what do you need me to do about it?”

She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t try to cover her desperation with nonexistent scraps of propriety.

“I need you to lick it, please Percy.”

“Lick what?”

“My— my cunt. Please, please lick my cunt.”

“Good girl. Lift up your hips.”

She did, and he slid her underwear down her legs. She was completely exposed to him now.

He bent his mouth to her and let out a low groan of pleasure as his tongue placed one long languid stroke across her clit.

It wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough. She growled in irritation, grabbed his hair, and bucked her hips against his mouth.

He laughed.

“Is that not what you want? Let me try something else.”

His lips found her clit and he sucked— but the sensation wasn’t right, wasn’t what she needed.

She let out a frustrated noise, too lost by this point to try and explain her feelings by stringing together another sentence. She’d used up the last bit of sense she had.

“No? Still no good? Let me try again.”

This time, his tongue lapped delicately against the bud of her clitoris, hitting an angle she’d never gotten with her fingers, and she let out a soft “oh!” of surprised pleasure as her body convulsed.

“Hmmm, right there, honey? Is that the spot?”

He did it again, and her back bowed.

So good.

It felt so, so good.

His right forearm moved to hold down her hips, while his other hand pressed open her left thigh.

Then he began to torture her in earnest, and she lost herself in the sensation, in the rhythmic, patient flick flick flick of his tongue, his pace remaining deliciously, painfully constant.

She had hoped to find relief the moment his mouth touched her, but as the minutes passed, Annabeth’s frustration only grew. As good as it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

It was taking too long.

“ Percy,” she whimpered and he hummed against her in response.

“Percy…I … stop?”

His reaction was immediate: he pushed away from her and up to his knees. His face clouded with concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

She bit her lip and looked away from his worried gaze.

“Does it not feel good?”

“No, it’s not that. It feels — it feels really, really good. It’s just that….”

“That what?”

Oh gods, how was she supposed to explain it?

“It’s going to take too long.”

She glanced back at him.

His head tilted to the side in confusion. Then a split-second later, a predatory look spread across his face.

“Take too long for what?”

“For me to… you know.”

His eyes narrowed at her, and she got the distinct impression that she was about to regret her words.

“So what I’m hearing,” he purred as he lowered himself back down between her thighs, “is that you like the feeling of my mouth on you. You like it when I lick your greedy little cunt. And you’re just being impatient .”

Annabeth shuddered. He kissed her inner thigh, then met her gaze again.

“What did I tell you you were going to learn about today, honey?”

“P-patience?”

He bit down on her lower stomach, sucking another bruise into the skin below her navel and making her writhe for several moments before he lifted his mouth to speak again.

“So why,” he growled, “did you think you could interrupt me just because you were feeling a little bit frustrated?”

Annabeth hid her face beneath her arms.

“Are you going to interrupt me again to try and make me hurry up?”

She shook her head, and one of his hands smacked lightly at the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t painful, but it was sharp enough to make her jump.

“I said," he growled, "are you going to interrupt me again?”

“No!”

“Good. Tell me when you get close.”

Then he ducked his head and began to lave at her clitoris again, only this time at a much, much slower pace.

Each brush of his tongue felt divine, but it didn’t provide her with the same kind of efficient pressure as her fingers. As a result, the build-up to her release was nothing short of torturous.

After what felt like ages, she finally felt the wave begin to crest.

“I’m close!” she gasped, remembering his command just in time, and he stopped.

He stopped.

Annabeth had to fight the urge to scream.

And then the bastard waited long enough for the wave to recede almost completely before he began again.

Then he did it again, once and then twice. Each time, her orgasm built more and more rapidly. And each time she would beg him to, “ Please, Percy. Please let me come.”

And he would pull away, then hush her and soothe her until she submitted to her fate with a desperate whine.

“I know honey, I know.”

“ Pleaseplease I can’t I need I —"

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re going to be good for me.”

“ But I need —“

“Shhh, sweetheart. This is about what I want. And what I want is for you to learn patience.”

“ I can’t —”

“Yes, you can. And you will. Trust me to take care of you.”

At one point he even had the gall to tell her that his jaw needed a rest, and then he proceeded to work her to the edge again with the barest touches of his fingertips while he used her thigh as a pillow.

The last time, as she neared the edge and pleaded for release once again, he didn’t stop.

Instead, he fitted two of his fingers inside her and pressed them up, sending her flying off of the precipice with a broken scream. She thrashed as she was overcome with wave after wave of pleasure; the feelings almost too much in the wake of so much build-up, the release overwhelming after so much time spent winding her tighter and tighter.

Her vision dimmed.

And then Percy was curled around her, holding her tight to his chest as tears dampened her cheeks—  from relief maybe? Or frustration? Or maybe just something else entirely.

Whatever the trigger, the result was cathartic.

“So good,” Percy was saying into her ear as he held her and stroked her hair. “So good, honey. You did so well.”

He didn’t let her go until the tears ran dry, and when the hiccups began, he shared his water with her. Slowly, eventually, she calmed and quieted into a state of contentment.

“How do you feel?” He asked, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers after she’d nestled into him with a sigh.

“I feel like maybe you’re somehow simultaneously the best and worst person I’ve ever met,” she croaked, and he laughed.

“I didn’t push you too far, did I, love?”

She shook her head.

“I’m a tough woman. A tough pirate, even. I can take it.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

“Question is, how are you still even talking? Isn’t your jaw sore? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice so much that you’ll manage to power through?”

He huffed into her hair.

“Go clean up, you little brat. Then come back and let me hold you. I need a nap.”

He gave her a swat on her backside when she stood to do as he said, grinning slyly at the faux-indignant look on her face.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later, when she was already half-asleep, that his words finally registered.

Love.

He’d called her love.

Chapter 24

The look Will gave her when she and Percy finally reappeared on the top deck at dusk was so smug that she briefly considered pushing him overboard. The only thing that kept him from a watery doom was the fact that their conversation went immediately to their current puzzle.

Frank was the only one of them who had ever heard of the golden rule. He looked at his crewmates with untempered concern.

“You should know this, Annabeth,” he said, aghast. “It’s Isocrates: do not do to others that which angers you when they do it to you.”

Huh .

She was familiar with Isocrates’ work, but… well, she supposed the Priestesses wouldn’t want their acolytes hearing that all too often.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed at her partner. “I still like Sally’s version better,” she said as she flipped one of the gold drachma they’d taken from the temple ships across the knuckles of her right hand.

Reyna grinned at her, one of the first signs of anything besides grief from the woman since they’d left Circe’s island.

“You would ,” she quipped.

Percy bent and feigned a whisper into Annabeth’s ear: “Hazel’s got not-so-secret treasure troves hidden all across the empire. She’s probably the richest person aboard this ship.”

He ducked as Hazel's coin went hurling towards him.

“I’d like to see you try and find my troves!” She snapped.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” he replied, bringing his hands up in a sign of mock surrender. He shot Annabeth a wink.

“I saw that!” Hazel hissed and then began muttering to herself about increasing her defense systems as Frank tried to soothe her with gentle pats and hushed reassurance.

“They’re very well hidden, my love. No one will find them.”

“Percy, if you try to steal from Hazel you’ll have to deal with me,” Annabeth scolded.

Hazel mouthed a smug “ so there ,” at the captain, made a vulgar gesture, and then crossed her arms.

Annabeth needed to get them back on course.

“Right, if we go with Frank’s definition—”

“—it’s Isocrates’ definition!”

“Isn’t Odysseus like, way older than Socrates though?” Leo interrupted. “How would Odysseus know about Socrates’ golden rule?”

“Isocrates! Isocrates ! Not Socrates!”

“Also Epictetus,” muttered Grover, chewing anxiously on a tin plate. “Epictetus had some golden somethings, didn’t he?”

“His name doesn’t matter,” Leo shot back. “The issue still stands. And Odysseus obviously didn’t give two shits about treating people well.”

He had a point.

“It’s also possible he’s referring to the golden mean,” said Piper. “The rule of moderation, you know? We sail directly between the two serpents, and we’re golden. So to speak.”

“Aristotle is still centuries after Odysseus,” Nico replied curtly.

“What about the golden ratio?” Will asked. “Maybe we need to sail in a spiral pattern to confuse the serpents?”

“Same problem, Will. Odysseus predates Euclid,” Nico murmured, his tone noticeably softer, as if he was reluctant to dismiss anything Will might say.

Annabeth would have smiled at her friends’ tender moment were it not for the sense of imminent failure in the face of impending doom that was building in her gut. So instead, she just groaned and buried her head in her arms.

“There, there, Wise Girl,” Percy crooned, stroking her hair. She smacked his hand away, and he sighed.

“Grover, bud, do you have anything she can eat? Preferably something filling? With lots of olives? And maybe some cheese?” Percy asked.

A little ember of joy warmed her stomach.

Love .

Was that love? The way he was making sure she ate enough? The way he knew her favorite foods?

Or was it something he’d do for any of them? And did that discount the possibility of love?

Had he meant it? Or had it merely been a meaningless slip of the tongue?

“Oh, sure!”

Grover’s hooves made quick little tippity-tap sounds as he scampered across the deck to the galley door.

“Hmmm,” said Piper. “Seems like someone’s gotten all worn out. Wonder how that happened.”

Annabeth growled and brandished Truthseeker without lifting her head.

Will sounded entirely too gleeful when he said, “Oh, gosh. I don’t know what could possibly have happened to our priestess, Pipes.”

“I can tell you what happened,” said Hazel.

Thank the gods for Hazel. She would say something sensible and get the conversation out of the taloned claws of those two little oversexed demons.

“She got fucked.”

Never mind.

Annabeth lifted her head and leveled a glare at her three troublesome crewmates. Poor Frank looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Nico and Jason were busy pretending like this conversation wasn’t even happening.

“Wasting Lilies are very easy to grow, you know,” was all Annabeth said.

She did not tell them that she had not, in fact, been fucked . Just tortured. Deliciously, wonderfully tortured.

And yet somehow not ... anything else.

They only laughed harder.

Grover’s hoof-steps sounded again, and he put a plate of leftovers beside her, courtesy of the supplies they’d stolen from the temple ships, along with a small bowl of black olives.

“Thanks, Grover,” she breathed.

“Anytime,” he replied, patting her shoulder sympathetically.

“You’re the best, buddy. Thank you,” said Percy.

Grover whispered something into Percy’s ear that made him smile ruefully, and shrug a one-shouldered shrug.

“I’m just saying,” Grover hedged.

Percy sighed.

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. You’re always right.”

Annabeth tried not to appear too obvious as she listened to their quiet exchange.

Unfortunately, while the food made her feel much less cranky, it did not magically provide the answers she was hoping for.

They were nearing the Pillars of Heracles, which stood on either side of the strait that connected their world to the endless sea. It would take one more day to get there, maybe two if they encountered any storms.

And she didn’t have a plan.

She always had a plan. And backup plans. And contingency backup plans. So her current lack of a battle strategy was terrifying, to say the least.

When she had finished her plate, annihilated the olives, and then finally began to gnaw on her fingernails, Percy pinched her jaw and tilted her head towards him.

“Alright, Wise Girl. I’ve got a plan.”

She practically sagged in relief. He had a plan!

“Oh, thank the gods. What is it?”

“We’re gonna wing it.”

She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. Right?

“We’re going to what?”

“Wing it. We’re going to get to the serpents and figure out what the riddle means as we go. Okay?”

Annabeth stood abruptly and put her hands on her hips, glaring down at her captain.

“Not okay! Decidedly not okay!”

Percy took her hand gently and kissed her fingertips before pulling her into his lap. His hand came up to palm the back of her neck, making her frustration fizzle out with just that one touch.

Then, when her limbs loosened, he tucked her face into the crook of his neck.

“I need you to trust me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

She let out a long-suffering sigh but nodded into his shoulder.

“Alright. We’re going to be fine. We can improvise— rise to the challenge once we know what it really is. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now there’s a sail on the foremast that needs a patch. Take care of it before it gets dark, please.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Annabeth hefted herself out of his lap and walked over to the foremast.

She knew what he was doing, that he was trying to distract her from agonizing over the riddle until she drove herself crazy. He wasn’t being terribly subtle about it.

But she would allow herself to be distracted for a little while. It might help to clear her mind and make space for the right idea to come along.

“Hey, Will? Wanna help me with the foremast?” She called to her friend, who was mooning over the shirtless, shadowy man hammering down a loose baseboard. (Much to the shadowy man’s chagrin.)

Will looked at her, seeming a bit bereft, a bit betrayed by her interruption of his favorite pastime. Then he glanced over at Frank, her usual partner for forays above the rigging. Frank seemed just as confused as Will.

Annabeth huffed.

“Please?”

Will sighed and stood, and— though she hadn’t asked or expected it— Frank did too.

How was she supposed to have a secretive conversation with Will when Frank was there to listen?

She tried to communicate this issue through a series of silent, plaintive stares, but neither man seemed to understand.

“Annabeth, what’s so urgent  that you needed to pull me from my very, very important work?” Will asked when they reached her.

“Ogling Nico is important work?”

“Yes. I’m trying to build up his self-esteem through a steady diet of objectification.”

“You could try compliments,” suggested Frank. “Or maybe poetry? Or declarations of undying love?”

“Those will just spook him,” Will replied.

She supposed Frank might be a good person to ask for advice in this particular matter. Of all the people on this ship, love seemed to come the most easily to Frank. He accepted it and returned it with unerring ease and generosity.

As Frank finished tying up the harness, Annabeth came to a decision. Looking between the two of them, she asked, “How do you know if someone loves you?”

Will beamed. Frank’s hands stilled on the knot he was tying, and his dark, knowing eyes lifted to her.

“If someone loves you?” He asked. “Or if you love them in return?”

Annabeth flushed and looked away, already regretting asking them anything. Love wasn’t something that happened in a few weeks. It didn’t matter that they were living in such close quarters. Love happened over months. Years, even.

Except she loved Will, didn’t she? And Frank, too. And… well, all of them.

Wasn't that what this feeling was? The warmth that suffused her whole chest when she was with them? The contentment? The joy? The knowledge that she would do anything to keep them whole and happy and safe?

Wasn’t that love?

So why was it that she couldn’t use that word to explain her emotions toward Percy? She felt the same way towards him as she did the others. Well, almost the same way— a little sharper, perhaps, a little hotter and more insistent. Like some wild, overgrown offshoot of the same plant.

And she didn’t feel the urge to strip any of the others naked and lick the sweat from their skin. Nor did she want to kneel at their feet while they ran their hands through her hair.

Was that love, too?

Her friends took pity on her, thank the gods.

“It’s finding someone who feels like home,” Will offered. “The rest of the world could change and change again, but you know so long as you’re with them, you’ll be alright.”

“But you all feel like my home.”

Annabeth blurted out the response without thinking; in a split-second, she was caught up in an iron-armed embrace and lifted clear off the ground.

Frank only held her for a few seconds before putting her carefully back down.

Were those tears in his eyes?  The big softie.

She smiled up at him, touched to the core by his show of sentimentality, and he patted the top of her head.

Then he cleared his throat, and said, “You can tell someone loves you by how they pay attention. Do they notice the little things? The important things? They’ll want to know you. Really know you, and be known by you in return.”

Will hummed in agreement.

“Someone who is in love with you will care more about your feelings than their pride,” Frank continued.

Annabeth thought about one of her first conversations with Will. How he told her he didn’t mind waiting until Nico was ready to love him back.

I’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.

Annabeth’s heart thrummed inside her chest, and her eyes drifted over to the helm of the ship. Percy was watching the horizon, but as she looked at him, his gaze flicked towards her, and he smiled.

She couldn’t repress the answering curve of her lips.

“They look at you like you’re the only thing that really matters,” said Will. “Even if they haven’t said anything yet, their eyes can still tell you all you need to know.”

Love.

Maybe, just maybe, this was love. Maybe he wasn’t only in it for the thrill of the moment. Wouldn’t turn his attention to another once he got bored of her.

And maybe, just maybe,  Annabeth could be brave enough to hope that was all true.

As the Pillars of Heracles emerged on the horizon, Annabeth still had yet to formulate a plan. And as much as she wanted to rust Percy’s ability to “wing it,” this did not feel like the sort of situation that should be wung. Winged? Wunged?

If they faltered here, that would be it. And Annabeth had a feeling they wouldn’t just be able to pick up where they’d left off next year. No, they would likely have to start the process again from the beginning. Could she face Scylla and Charybdis again? Possibly. Now that they had more experience and knew what to expect.

But would Circe let Annabeth set foot back on her island? Probably not.

So this was it. And yet there was, as of yet, not a single serpent to be found in the uncannily placid waters.

It was all far, far too quiet for Annabeth.

A flash of something in her peripheral vision dragged her towards the horizon.

It took her a moment to figure out what it was, but when she did…

Gold.

Bright, glowing, glittering mounds of gold – so beautiful it made her breath catch. It was partially hidden in a dark cave, but there seemed to be too much for the cave to truly contain, and it was spilling out onto the rocky shore.

“Percy, look! Off the starboard prow!”

He did, and she saw the moment he noticed the trove – the kind of trove that would change their lives, that would let them buy entire kingdoms. The kind of trove that negated a need for a boon from Hades, because what could possibly be more valuable than this?

As if in a trance, the rest of the Argo crew left their stations and came beside her to look over the gunwale at the cascading mountains of wealth.

The bow of the Argo changed directions, aiming away from the Pillars of Heracles and towards the shore to the north.

As they neared, Annabeth saw the statues that guarded the mouth of the cave; two bronze serpents, their mouths open wide, as if to swallow any incoming ships, were coiled tightly around enormous marble columns.

Serpents.

Something about that was important, wasn’t it? But they weren’t doing anything. They weren’t even moving. They were simply decorative.

And they were decorating the most gold Annabeth had ever seen in her entire life. With gold like that, she could buy the Scholar City and make the Athena spend the rest of her days locked in a tower with nothing but Piper’s romance novels for company.

No, she wouldn’t do that to Piper’s romance novels. She liked them too much.

They were close enough now that she could see more details of the treasure. Parts of it looked like cloth. And planks? Planks of gold?

Masts, too. And there— a golden figurehead – several golden figureheads. Almost as if…

She shook her head to try and clear it.

Remember there the golden rule.

Only they hadn’t been able to decide what the golden rule was. Because Odysseus predated all the golden rules they could think of.

An alarm bell was ringing in Annabeth’s mind, but she was struggling to cling to something solid. Because at the forefront of every thought was that glittering, glimmering pile of promise.

Gold.

Gold and old myths.

And Hephaestus. What did Hephaestus have to do with gold?

“Captain!” Leo was waving his hands frantically in the air and gesturing towards the serpents. “That is a trap, that is most definitely a trap. Trust me, I know traps! And that is a trap. I feel it in my blood.”

Remember there the golden rule.

The Argo was still moving – getting close, too close to shore. They would run aground if they didn’t turn around soon. Annabeth knew this, logically, she knew this. But her mind was sluggish and slow under the pull of the gold.

But… she thought back to the original sentence, the untranslated sentence. It was one of those tricky archaic words that could hold multiple meanings, depending on the context.

Rule could have just as easily been translated as ruler or king.

There was a third possibility, too, if one was considering the word literally rather than the way it was usually interpreted —  symbolically.

Remember there the golden throne.

“ And what do you think that tricky old Hephaestus did, Little Owl?”

“He caught her up in the golden throne!”

“That he did. Hera – the queen of beauty and riches, who had so hated her ugly child —  was unable to resist the sight of all that perfect, unblemished, lustrous gold. The moment she sat on that throne, the gold spread from the bottoms of her feet up through the crown of her head, and she became trapped in the consequences of her own greed.”

Still unable to fully understand why she was doing it, Annabeth sprinted to Percy’s side.

“We need to turn around,” she gasped, breathless.

He looked at her, his brows drawn low over his eyes in confusion.

“We need to turn around now.”

“We do?”

Then Hazel was there, and she was shaking her head.

“Something’s not right about that gold, Captain. We need to get away from it.”

Percy looked dazedly between the two of them, then over to the prow where Leo was still yelling about traps.

“It’s cursed gold, Captain,” Hazel insisted. “Turn the ship around.”

There was the sound of creaking metal, and Annabeth saw, with growing horror, the head of one bronze serpent bend slowly towards them. It’s mouth twisting into what could have been mistaken for a welcoming smile.

Come closer , its fanged grin seemed to say. Just a little closer.

Those fangs were just exactly the right size for biting into the hull of a large ship.

“ Percy,” Annabeth’s panic was growing, and it made her voice hoarse rather than confident. She gripped his shirt with shaking fingers. “We need to go. We need to go now. ”

“Alright, honey. Shhh, alright. We’ll go. I trust you,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead, still looking utterly bewildered. Then, with a shake of his head, Percy turned the wheel, directing them slowly – far too slowly – away from the glimmering shore.

The other serpent twisted its head towards them and delicately began to unwind itself from its column, then with a splash, it slipped into the ocean.

Annabeth could see the tremor in the waves where its massive body disturbed the tranquil waters.

Too late.

“Percy, the serpent.” She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, and her voice came out as a hollow rasp.

Her captain's eyes narrowed, then followed her gaze. The mist clouding his features dissipated, and his eyes sharpened in sudden understanding.

“Fuck,” he muttered —  entirely too calmly, in Annabeth’s opinion.

“Frank!” He called. “Go get Old Grandad.”

Annabeth hoped Old Grandad was not, in fact, the wizened elderly man she was currently picturing.

“Jason, Leo – quick as you can, reroute power to the engines!”

His eyes went to Hazel.

“If Old Grandad doesn’t work we’re going to need more firepower.”

She jerked her head in a nod, let out a sharp, summoning whistle, and then she was sprinting below deck with Piper and Will at her heels.

The serpent was gaining on them too quickly and too easily, even as the Argo began to pick up speed.

“We’re going to need to slow it down,” Annabeth said, trying to sound determined instead of terrified.

“Consider theirs and yours.”

Did that mean the serpents were just as driven by greed as their intended victims? It was possible.

“Any ideas, Wise Girl?”

“One or two. Nico!”

The ship’s shadow was by her side in an instant.

“Go get one of those bags of drachma, then help me with the dinghies.”

“On it.”

Then: “The dinghies, Reyna!” She called across to the tall, dark woman.

She turned to go, but Percy caught her by the wrist.

“Both of your feet stay on the deck.”

“Yes, Captain.”

His grip tightened.

“I mean it. Both fucking feet. I can lose the Argo, Annabeth. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” she promised, and he let her go.

Annabeth sprinted across the deck to where Reyna had already begun to lower one of the row boats into the ocean below. It didn’t take long for Nico to return, grunting with the effort of carrying just one of the heavy sacks, and with only one deadpan, doubtful look in her direction, he emptied the bag of drachma into the dinghy at her command.

“On three, we let it go,” she said to Reyna, her voice shaking just a little. The woman nodded, her face a steely mask of grim concentration. It was really, truly impressive, her ability to maintain her composure under pressure.

“One–”

The ripples were only a meter or two away now.

“Two–”

She saw a great, bronze skull just beneath the surface of the water, and steadied herself with a slow, slow breath.

The skull broke the surface, and its mouth opened. A drop of liquid gold dangled from one fang.

“Three!”

They dropped the dingy into the water with a splash, right into the path of the serpent’s mouth. It had the desired effect, thank the gods – the serpent’s giant nostrils flared, its great gold tongue flickering out to taste the air, and then its mouth turned a fraction of a degree away from the Argo and closed around the dinghy and it’s contents instead.

Where the serpent’s fangs pierced the dinghy, tendrils of gold began to leech into the wood, gilding the boat even as it was crushed between the creature’s jaws.

It bought them seconds. But they only needed seconds.

Because suddenly Frank was there beside them, one foot braced up on the edge of a barrel and an enormous harpoon gun propped against his shoulder. It must have been four feet long and as wide around as one of Frank’s arms, rusted and made of iron and wood. The harpoon that protruded from the end of it, though, was as bright and shining as one of the Sky King’s celestial bronze statues. It seemed – it was – deadly sharp, with terrible, serrated teeth that were painful just to look at.

And, while the serpent was unhinging its jaw in an attempt to fit the entire dinghy into its mouth – a scene that was oddly reminiscent of the way Annabeth herself ate honey cakes – Frank took careful aim, sucked in one quick breath, and shot the harpoon right into its eye and clear through its skull.

As the harpoon gun recoiled into his shoulder, Frank let out a grunt of pain but didn’t move so much as a centimeter.

There was a moment when nothing happened.

Then, the serpent’s one remaining eye rolled up into its bronze skull, and its unfeeling face seemed somehow to communicate annoyance. Annabeth could have sworn she heard a low, metallic hiss as it sank beneath the water, and the world was still once again.

She looked to the far shore – where its companion still watched them, unmoving and unblinking, and shuddered. Neither she nor the rest of them took their eyes from the creature until it, too, disappeared from view.

Finally, her gaze met Reyna’s, and Reyna’s gaze met hers, and together they breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter 25

Chapter Notes

Alright, you guys, the chapter count is probably going to end up being 32. Maaaaaybe 33.

Also, just fair warning-- so much smut. Like... so much. I've let my freak flag unfurl, y'all, and it's refusing to be put away.

But also so much fluff. I'm as much a fluff fiend as I am a smut fiend.

Also, I've learned how to reply to your comments with gifs. So like... sorry in advance.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The members of the Argo crew were still deeply shaken as they stopped at the cusp of the Pillars that night.  Especially Percy, who was struggling to come to terms with the fact that he’d almost steered his family into a trap.

The moment they were alone on the quarterdeck, he tied up the wheel and sank down heavily onto the floor next to Annabeth.

“I almost cost us our lives, I think. That’s twice in one journey I’ve led us into a trap,” he said, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. He sounded so despondent and so upset with himself that it nearly broke Annabeth’s heart. “My mother would be ashamed.”

Annabeth sat beside him and pulled him down until his head was resting in her lap. He let her maneuver him how she wished – curling him onto his side— as soft and docile as a lamb.

“No, she wouldn’t. Because you didn’t,” she replied, stroking her fingers through his hair.  She tried not to let herself get distracted by the feeling of his large, warm hand on her lower stomach and his breath on her thighs. This was not the time, damn it.

“You did what good leaders do and you listened to your crew when it mattered the most, Percy.”

“I shouldn’t have let my guard down. Should have realized.”

She ran her nails along his scalp and he practically purred into the dip where her thigh met her hip before nestling himself deeper into her embrace.

“If anything, it was my fault. I should have double-checked my translations. I’m – well, I tend to be a little bit egotistical about that sort of thing.”

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered, rolling onto his back so he could look up at her. He reached up a hand and fit the v between his thumb and forefinger just where her jaw met her neck. “You’re not going to try to shift the blame onto yourself.”

“But I – “

Percy cut off her attempt to argue with a low, sharp, “No,” and a tender squeeze of his hand. The gentle pressure made her eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But if I can’t take the blame, then you shouldn’t either.”

His fingers released their hold, and he dragged his palm down her neck, between her breasts, and back down to her stomach.

When he didn’t seem convinced, she tried again.

“I know you feel like you’re responsible for everything that happens in the entire expanse of the ocean, but this wasn’t your fault.”

He was quiet for a moment; his eyes shifted away from her face and focused dazedly on the stars above them. He blinked. Opened his mouth. Shut it. Blinked again.

“I don’t do well with traps.”

Annabeth wondered at this for a moment. He’d seemed to handle the trap Octavian had set well enough. But then again, she hadn’t been witness to the aftermath then the way she was now.

“They shake me up. Take me back to the day my mother disappeared.”

She went still for a moment, then, scared her reaction might spook him, she resumed her gentle ministrations.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, there was silence as he considered her question.

“It was a mutiny,” he finally said. “Led by an ugly, spineless piece of dog shit. Never understood why she’d brought him aboard, but…”

He trailed off for a moment, then cleared his throat. A tear rolled down from the corner of his eye into his hair. She wiped it away with her thumb.

“They had sent the rest of us ashore to get supplies, and I just —“ his voice broke “— left her. On that ship with that man and his fucking crew.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“But I should have. Didn’t even realize anything was wrong until we got back to the docks and the Blue Lady was just… gone. A dock watchman told us what he’d seen and —"

He stopped speaking for a little while, turning his face back into her stomach. She could feel where his tears were soaking through the fabric of her clothes.

When he was ready to speak again, he said, “I finally found him, though. About a year ago. He was in hiding. Knew I was coming after him. Someone must have found what was left of the rest of his crew and warned him.”

Annabeth didn’t have to ask if the man was still alive. She already knew.

“I found Ugliano and tore him into pieces trying to get answers. But the drunkard couldn’t remember where they’d left her. Just somewhere in the middle of the sea in a rowboat. And he’d lost the Lady in a game of cards. She's scrap parts, now.”

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. His mother and his home, both lost to him in one fell swoop.

“I’m so sorry, Percy.”

He gripped her waist even tighter. And she bent to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“That wasn’t your fault. I know you. And I know that you would do anything for the people you love, and I know that the sun rises in the east, and I know that it was not your fault.”

His shoulders relaxed, just a little bit. Just enough.

“We’re going to find her, okay? And if this way doesn’t work, then we’ll just find another way.”

He’d been willing to wait another year to find his mother because he didn’t want her to get hurt.  The enormity of that hit her full-on in the chest, rendering her breathless for half a heartbeat. A sudden flare of protectiveness sparked in her veins.

“You would help me find her, Wise Girl? If Hades won't?”

“Without question.”

She would help him find his mother if it took the rest of her life. If it took them into the pits of Tartarus or across the endless sea itself, she would help him.

He took in a long, deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

What she thought was: It means I might love you.

What she said was: “I forgave you some time ago.”

The silence of what she hadn’t said weighed heavily on her. She was so close, so close, to spilling that secret. But her mouth couldn’t quite form the words.

Instead, Annabeth sighed and looked up at the sea ahead of them, then up into the distance, where she hoped the Doors of Death would appear to them tomorrow night.

“What do you think is out there?” She asked. “Out past the endless sea?”

“You would know more about it than me, Wise Girl.”

“There’s nothing written about it, though. Not even theories.”

Percy’s thumb found a patch of bare skin and began to rub, then his lips pressed gently against that same patch.

“Do you want to go? Maybe try and discover for yourself?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe someday. Would you go with me?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Yes.”

It was easy for her to admit that unshakable truth. She wanted him to go with her— to whatever end.  She didn’t want to face the world, especially the unknown expanses of the world, without him by her side.

“If… you wanted to, that is,” she whispered.

“I’d follow you anywhere—“

Annabeth’s heart soared.

“—And not just because of the of the view.”

One of his hands curled underneath her and squeezed. She laughed and flicked Percy’s earlobe, careful not to hit the earrings in his cartilage.

“Is that a reference to my…rear?”

“No,” he replied, drawing out the one syllable into a sing-song tease.

“Ah, then you must be talking about my posterior.”

He chuckled, and the warmth of his breath brushed against the apex of her thighs. Annabeth felt momentarily proud of herself for making him laugh when he was feeling so low.

“C’mon, honey. You know better than that. Try again.”

“Oh, you mean my buttocks ?” She said, her voice laced with faux innocence.

His teeth found the patch of skin now, and he bit down – just for a moment. A brief, sharp reprimand that made her gasp.

“Say what I want to hear,” he rumbled once he’d left yet another bruise on her tender skin.

“I’m not going to let you corrupt me, you contemptible villain.”

“Too late for that,” he grinned up at her, and then he was lifting her hips and shifting her until she was forced to lower herself flat onto the floor. He moved so that his face was hovering between her still-clothed thighs.

“You’d let me have you right out here in the open. Let me strip you bare and splay you out under the stars so that I can enjoy you however I want, wouldn’t you?”

He didn’t really need to ask, since she’d already proven him right the night after their foray on Circe’s island. Nevertheless, his tone demanded an answer.

“ Yes,” Annabeth groaned her affirmation, glad for the moment that there were no watching gods, except perhaps whatever wisps of Brizo accompanied them on their journey

“Would you cry out my name for the sky to hear? Wear my marks on your neck for the world to see?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because I—"

Love you.

“—trust you. Want you. Need you.”

Love you.

“Sweet girl,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

Then he moved up her body, leaning over her and balancing his weight in his forearms.

His eyes were so full of mirth and affection and lust that they just about swallowed her whole.

“So what were you saying about not letting me corrupt you, Annabeth?” He batted his eyelashes at her, and she couldn’t hold back her laugh.

“I’m just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, Seaweed Brain. It’s all for show.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head and shifted onto his side. His hair brushed against her cheekbones, smelling clean and warm and masculine. Then Annabeth felt his calloused fingers slip beneath her underwear; her eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped through her parted lips.

“Hmm, I think you might be lying, sweetheart.”

Two of his fingers pressed inside her, pumping slowly for just a few moments. Giving her barely even a taste of what she was so desperate for.

“Too bad for you, your cunt gives you away.”

He pulled his fingers out and held them up in the light of the lanterns, giving them both a show of just how wet she was for him.

She tried to her flushed face in his neck, but his free hand pushed it away.

“Ah-ah-ah, none of that,” he admonished. “I want you to know exactly what I do to you.”

His fingers moved until they hovered a millimeter above her bottom lip.

“Taste yourself for me,” he coaxed, and she was powerless to resist. She wanted to know what she tasted like on his fingers.

So she opened her mouth, letting him dip his fingers between her lips, and sucked.

It didn’t taste like very much, she supposed. But the look in Percy’s eyes made her hungry to prove herself.

She lifted her hand to his wrist and pressed his fingers in deeper, deeper  —-

Too deep

— she choked around his fingers, and Percy quickly pulled them out before pressing a kiss to her lips, then her forehead.

“Sorry! Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself.”

But there had been a split-second there when he hadn’t been able to hide his reaction. She saw it, clear as the Ursa Major, the way desire lit up his expression.

He’d liked watching her choke on his fingers.

Interesting.

She wanted to see if she could bring about that expression again.

She took hold of his wrist again and brought his fingers back into her mouth.

“Annabeth—"

But whatever he was about to say cut off into a low oath as he took his fingers deeper, then deeper still, until they touched the back of her throat.

She fought against her body’s response for as long as she could, blinking around the tears in her eyes as she worked her tongue between his digits.

“ Fuck, honey,” he groaned. His pupils were blown wide, his emerald irises just a barely-there ring around the edge.

She felt a thrill of power shoot through her. She’d done that to him.

“Beautiful. So beautiful. So good,” he whispered into her hair, letting her take control of his hand, letting her decide the speed and depth of his fingers.

She slowly moved his fingers in and out, carefully letting them bump against the back of her throat, then holding them there until she couldn’t any longer.

“ Gods you’re so pretty like this. Look at you, choking on my fingers. Think you could take my cock this deep, sweetheart?”

She nodded— or rather, she tried to. But he seemed to get the idea, because he groaned again, low and deep and desperate.

She pulled his fingers from her mouth.

“How about now?” She asked, breathlessly.

“Now?” He sounded genuinely confused, and Annabeth bit back a growl of frustration.

“I want to take your appendage in my mouth. Right now. Chop chop.” It wasn’t so much a request as it was a demand. A very impatient demand.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. You definitely know better than that.”

“I do.”

She did. But she liked what happened when she ruffled his feathers.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I am.”

His lips curved into a small, sly smile.

“I’ve created a monster.”

“More like Piper and Will created a monster,” she said, making him snort.

Annabeth grinned, and then she groaned as he fisted his hand in her hair and pulled until she was forced to arch her back for him.

“Are you sure? You want to choke on my cock?”

“Very sure. That is, if you think you can make me.”

She knew very well that he could make her, and he knew that she knew. But she just couldn’t resist.

He hummed thoughtfully and swept his gaze slowly from the top of her head, across her still bowed torso, then down to the tips of her toes. His cool assessment began to chip away at her bluster, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed by the time his eyes met hers again.

“You know what my favorite thing is to do with a brat like you, honey?”

Is that what she was? Annabeth tried not to feel a twinge of jealousy at the possibility that he’d had many partners like her before.

“What?”

“My favorite thing,” he purred, “is to make them regret their words.”

A thrill shot through Annabeth’s whole body.

“Would you like that?”

Yes.

She nodded.

“Go to our quarters and strip. You’re going to touch that greedy little cunt of yours without coming. You’re going to get yourself to the edge and keep yourself there until I can join you.”

He must have read the mischief in her face, because his hand in her hair tightened, making her cry out.

“You don’t have to test me, Wise Girl,” he rumbled. “I’ll give you what you need, and you’ve made it very, very clear just what that is”

Oh.

What exactly was that, then? Annabeth supposed she was an open book to everyone but herself.

His eyes grew soft, and his fingers in her hair relaxed their hold.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said and nudged the underside of her jaw with his nose.  And the tender encouragement in his voice made her want to be soft and pliant for him, more than any stern look or sharp bite ever could.

“Yes, Captain,” she breathed.

He helped her to her feet and gave a quick, sharp pinch to her nipple before sending her off with a jerk of his chin.

Annabeth could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips as she made her way back to their quarters, undressed, and began to touch herself.

She kept the touches light– it would be at least another two hours before Jason and Percy swapped shifts. If she got herself to the edge too quickly, it would only be harder for her to wait.

And gods, she wanted to wait. She wanted to prove just how good she could be. She wanted Percy to know that she trusted him to understand what she needed, especially after today’s near-disastrous encounter.

Running just the tip of her middle finger along her clit, she tried to mimic the feel and pace of Percy’s tongue. Not too much – something she could sustain until he finally joined her.

Her self-control didn’t last long, however, and all too quickly, she found herself speeding up her movements and adding pressure that pushed her to the edge.

What if I just… he would never know…

Annabeth’s fingers stopped. She would know, and that would be enough. She wouldn’t be able to lie to him even if she wanted to, and she wanted his approval more than she wanted her own release at the moment.

While she collected herself, Annabeth pulled out The Unbound Bride and flipped to her favorite chapter. Eventually, she couldn’t help herself, and her fingers found their way back to where she needed them most, and her thoughts turned away from the pages of her book and towards Percy.

His hands. His mouth. His eyes. His voice .

She repeated this same pattern several times – pushing herself to the edge, then pausing and reading a few pages while the wave receded. Even with her books to keep her occupied though, it still felt like an eternity had passed before she finally, finally heard the turn of the doorknob.

And, by the time Percy stepped into their room, Annabeth was a desperate mess.

Her hips shifted against the empty air as she fruitlessly tried to quell the growing need between her thighs, but she didn’t dare lay a finger between her legs, afraid that even the lightest touch would send her plummeting.

“Oh, Annabeth,” he crooned, and a little sob escaped her throat.

“How many times, hmmm? How many times have you brought yourself right to the edge for me, sweet girl?”

Annabeth pulled a pillow over her face. Too much. Too much. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear to witness to the way he was looking at her, or she would lose it.

“I lost count,” she groaned, her voice muffled.

“I bet —”

She heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor.

“ –that if I just gave you the softest kiss, right where you needed it, you would come apart for me. Wouldn’t you?”

“ Yes!”

His footsteps were slow and measured, and they stopped entirely too far from the bed for Annabeth’s mental well-being.

“And if I felt like it, I would give you just exactly that. Too bad you had such an attitude up on the deck.”

Oh, gods. She had really put her foot in it this time, hadn’t she?

But Annabeth couldn’t quite bring herself to regret her actions. Not when the end result was so enticing.

He moved closer, and a finger traced from her sternum down, and down, until it hovered just above her clit.

“Please?” She tried, bucking up in an attempt to get his finger just where she needed it.

“No,” he replied, affection and satisfaction dripping thickly from his voice.

She hadn’t expected him to fold, and, truth be told, a part of her was glad he hadn’t.

“ When ?” She groaned.

“Eventually.”

Annabeth muffled her frustration in the pillow. A moment later, her fingers were being uncurled from her lifeline, and the pillow was pulled gently away from her flushed face.

Percy sat on the edge of the bed, his torso turned away from her, his gaze trained on her. She had never seen him totally – had never seen all of him.

Her eyes swept down his body, over the taught muscles of his upper arms, across the panes of his chest, and along the lithe lines of his legs. Down to that hard and prominent part of him that made her mouth begin to water. Then to his hands – his elbows were resting on his knees, and his fingers rested loosely against one another.

Gods, he was beautiful.

His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, intent on her face and simmering with desire. He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles – a gesture which was, by now, both deeply familiar and incredibly soothing. Annabeth leaned into his touch.

“How are you feeling?”

She gave him a disbelieving glare, and he chuckled.

“Not in that sense. I mean how do you feel about what we’re doing right now? Good? Bad? Nervous?”

“Good,” she groaned with no small amount of reluctance. “Very, very good. But also I want to throttle you.”

That made him smile his crooked, wicked smile.

“Do you still want to suck my cock?”

“Yes,” she said –- it was a long, drawn-out, frustrated admission.

“Come here then." He patted the bed next to him. “Get on your hands and knees and come right beside me.”

Her legs shook as she turned over and moved to kneel at his left side, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the wetness clinging to her thighs and dripping down her legs. There would be no way for her to hide her need.

He gathered her hair into his right fist – not to pull it, just to hold it away from her face.

“Same as last time, honey. Tap my thigh if it’s too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then his left hand slid over the curve of her backside and down between her legs. His fingers found and stroked her over-sensitive clitoris, making her cry out. She wasn’t sure whether to pull away or push closer. She’d come away from the edge, but all she would need was a few light strokes from him to send her right back to the precipice again.

“When you get close, I want you to pinch my thigh. Tap to stop, pinch when you’re close.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Say it.”

“Tap when I need to stop, pinch when I’m close.”

“Good girl.”

She tried to lean down and take the tip of him into her mouth, but his grip tightened, and he tsked.

“Ask me nicely first.”

For a split-second, Annabeth could picture their tableaux as if from outside her body. Percy sitting tall and at his leisure, large and imposing and looming above her; his hands on either end of her – encompassing her.  Annabeth on her hands and knees, straining against his hold to try and get a taste of him. Begging for a taste of him.

It was beyond debauched. The pulse of need between her thighs grew somehow, impossibly, stronger.

“Please?”

He didn’t soften his grip. She knew what he was waiting for.

“Can I please put my mouth on your cock?”

The haze was descending, and she was drifting, drifting, drifting – out into that soft, yielding space that made her body feel somehow both light as a feather and too heavy to move under her own power.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers relaxed their hold and allowed her to lower herself down onto her forearms, her hips still high in the air, and wrap her lips around his tip.

His hand on her head was soft, not rushing her, not pressing her, letting her move at her own pace as she alternated between moving just slightly up and down, and lapping her tongue gently against the underside of his cock.

It was his other hand that was her torturer — he used just one finger to lightly tap tap tap against her clitoris. Then he paused. Three taps. A pause. Three taps. A pause. Each tap brought her just a millimeter closer to the edge of release.

She tried to focus on the feeling of him in her mouth — velvety and hard and thick — rather than the feeling of his hand on her clitoris. More than anything, she wanted to be good. Wanted to make him proud. It wasn’t long before she had to pinch his thigh, and she whimpered at the immediate loss of his fingers.

“Good girl. You ready to go a bit deeper, honey?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Her wordless affirmation made him groan – a sound that seemed to come deep from the bottom of his chest. It warmed her to the very tips of her toes.

“Open up a bit more. Just like that. Relax your jaw. Good girl.”

It was so easy, felt so right to just let go and follow his every instruction. Her eyes drifted shut in contentment.

The hand at the back of her head began to exert a bit more pressure, pushing her – slowly, carefully – down the length of his cock.  Lower, lower, until her whole mouth was taken up by him, until she couldn’t breathe around the length of him.

Her hips shifted against his hand – the fullness in her mouth was making her feel so, so empty where she needed him most. She wanted his fingers inside her. She also wanted more than his fingers inside her.

Then his cock hit the back of her throat – the same way his fingers had just hours earlier – and her throat tightened around him, trying to protect her from the intrusion, and her eyes began to water as she choked around his length.

“ Skies, you have the most perfect throat. Don’t you? So warm. Taking me so deep.”

Annabeth’s fingers curled into fists in the bedsheets. She could do this. She could power through this. She could —

She tapped at his thigh, and he immediately pulled her off of him. Annabeth rested her cheek against his leg as she coughed and gasped for air.

She felt a twinge of disappointment; the women in Piper’s books could last with a man in their throat for ages. She’d barely managed a few seconds.

Her disappointment didn’t linger for very long though, because Percy’s voice was full of pride as he showered her with praise and rewarded her with soothing caresses across her tear-stained cheeks.

“So good , honey. You did so well. Perfect for me. Perfect, perfect, girl.”

She blinked up at him, and when she met his gaze, she knew without even a sliver of doubt that the emotion shining in his eyes was love. She wasn’t sure how, exactly, she knew, but the truth of it settled warm and sure inside her chest.

“Look at you, sweetheart. So beautiful. You ready to try again?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulled her head up by her hair and began the process again, keeping her mouth just at the tip for a little while before slowly pressing her head down.

She lasted a little bit longer that time. And the next. Each time she pinched his thigh, he would coo and soothe away her frustrated whimpers as he took his fingers away. Each time she tapped, he would praise her and stroke the crown of her head as she gasped for breath.

The fourth time she took him into her throat, the fingers of his left hand began to rub against her with more force – circling her clitoris the way she liked it most, and she whimpered into his lap. It wasn’t long before she had to pinch his thigh again.

His fingers immediately left her, and she let out a sad little sob around his cock  – half desperation, half resignation.

“I know, love. I know. You’re being so good.”

He pressed her down farther, and at the same time that his cock met the back of her throat, he slipped two fingers into that clenching, desperately empty spot between her legs. She groaned in relief and rocked her hips against his palm.

“You like that, honey?”

She tried to make a sound that would communicate just how much she loved it. It was a garbled, choked thing.

“I’ll keep my fingers inside you for however long you can keep my cock in the back of your throat. Sound fair?”

No. No, it did not sound fair. Because she was already beginning to struggle against her body’s reaction, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to keep him there, and she never wanted to have to feel empty again.

He pumped his fingers into her – deep, so deep – no one else would ever be able to touch her like that, no one but him.

“ Gods. Do you hear that? Can you hear how wet for me you are?”

Yes. She could – and the sound of his fingers moving in and out of her was one of the most obscene things she’d ever heard.

“You’re absolutely dripping onto our bed. You have such a needy little cunt.”

Her eyes were beginning to water, and her lungs were screaming for air.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a little longer?

Her throat tightened and her stomach muscles convulsed – protesting against the choices of her lust-addled mind, and Annabeth had no option but to tap Percy’s thigh, gasping and gagging as he pulled her back up.

Once again, she rested her cheek against his thigh as she tried to regain her breath, and once again he crooned and soothed with the softest, filthiest praises.

“Sweet girl. I don’t know what part of you is making more of a mess. Your mouth or your cunt.”

One finger of his right hand dipped just barely along the inside of her lips and stroked the tip of her tongue.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured.

She knew what she must look like – entirely debauched, undeniably depraved, and utterly desperate –  and the thought of it thrilled her.

“Just for me. I don't want anyone else to get to see you this way.”

“No one else,” she gasped. “Only you.”

“Eyes on mine, Annabeth,” he whispered, and she flicked her gaze up to meet his. “Stay right there, don’t move an inch.”

The fingers of his left hand moved back to her clitoris while he used his right hand to stroke his cock – long, slow, languid strokes at first. But they quickly began to get more and more frantic. His fingers on her clit began to speed up as well, and they were pushing her close – dangerously close – to the edge.

She whimpered and pinched his thigh, even as her body begged her just to let him keep touching.

His fingers paused, but only for a moment. He slipped two digits inside of her, and let his thumb continue to circle. Oh, thank the gods. She was going to be full with him when she finally came, and it would be well worth the wait.

“ Percy,” she cried. “Percy I’m going to –”

“Wait until I tell you.”

Annabeth began to sob and beg in earnest.

“Please!” Her voice cracked and shattered. “ Please!”

“Shhh, honey. You’re alright. I’m going to let you come. Just put your mouth on my cock. I want you to come with the taste of me on your tongue.”

She wrapped her lips around him greedily, hungrily, gratefully — groaning and digging her hands into the sheets as she tried to keep herself from slipping off the edge without his permission.

“ Fuck.” he groaned, and then her mouth was filled with the feel and taste of his release. She drank it down– savoring not so much the taste as the feelings the act inspired. “That’s right, all of it, honey. All of it. Swallow every drop.”

She did her best to obey, but she was simultaneously desperately trying to shift her hips away from his touch. Her efforts were futile, however, as his fingers stayed firmly inside her, refusing to let up their pressure.

She wasn’t going to be able to stop herself; she was going to succumb and she would disobey him and disappoint him and she was trying so hard —

“Come for me,” he rasped – and that was all it took to send her flying, her muscles spasming around his fingers, her throat continuing to work as she swallowed what he gave her.

Annabeth nearly wept from the pleasure and the relief. And then her legs gave out, refusing to hold her up for even a moment longer, and she collapsed against him.

One second she was on her stomach with her head on his thighs, and the next he had her gathered up in his arms, her chest pressed to his, her head cradled on his shoulder.

He was mumbling… something. And his voice was hoarse and pleading and feverish.

“ Everything,” he rasped. “Everything, Annabeth, please. Let me give you everything. Please, honey. Please . You’re so good. Everything I’ve ever wanted. More than I’ve ever deserved. Let me be yours. Just let me be yours.”

She wanted to reassure him with some beautiful, eloquent speech. To tell him she knew he loved her and that she loved him, too. But she was so exhausted that she only had the energy to curl up closer to him and whisper, “Yes, please.”

It seemed to be enough though, because his body relaxed, and his frenetic whispers calmed and quieted.

Until eventually there was only the sound of their breathing and the warmth of skin-against-skin and heart-against-heart.

When Annabeth finally felt like she had full control of her limbs again, she said, “I should go clean up.”

All she wanted to do was fall asleep, but she'd learned from Will’s books about the steps that needed to be taken after intercourse to keep from getting an infection.

“Can I join you? I need—" he seemed to be searching for the right words. “Will you let me take care of you? Please?”

“In a moment? Just let me, ah, just give me a minute. Then yes.”

When she was ready, he joined her in the shower. His fingers were gentle as they worked Will’s cleansing balms through the strands of her tangled hair, tender as they lathered soap across her back and chest, soft as they slipped down to help her rinse between her legs.

“I’m too sensitive!”

“Shh, I’m not going to do anything more than this. Don’t worry, Wise Girl.”

Reassured, she relaxed against him, sighing contentedly, and let him touch her however he saw fit.

Then, when they were both satisfied and too exhausted to stand any longer, they climbed back into bed.

Percy refused to let her dress, or even put on underwear.

He insisted, with huge, pleading eyes, that depriving him of the feel of her naked body would be cruelty beyond measure, the worst sort of torture anyone could possibly inflict on any man.

“So dramatic,” she huffed as she lay down beside him and closed her eyes. “You’re ridiculous and shameless, Seaweed Brain.”

“Maybe. But it worked.”

A small smile snuck past her defenses, and then she was asleep.

Chapter End Notes

Always pee after sex!!!!! Always!!!!!!! (This has been a PSA.)

Chapter 26

Chapter Summary

And when you are close enough

You will know the doors

for they will call out to your soul.

A tempting, forceful lure.

Follow the call, but do not cross

Between this world and that

For if you succumb to their pull.

Your spirit they’ll entrap.

The 7th month, the 7th day

When Helios returns to sleep

To pass the gates you first must pay

A tithe here for gods of the deep

Or else your thread will be unfurled

So spill your blood for love and keep

A tether to this mortal world.

Then the doors will open wide

For those of us who’ve not yet died

And Hades he will trade a boon

For knowledge that he can consume.

Chapter Notes

You guys writing this chapter made me so, so, so happy.

Pro tip for anyone reading this chapter: go look up the word sea stack. Or maybe I can put a picture in the notes? Let's see.

They were a little bit at a loss for what to do the next afternoon.

“Do we just… keep going between the pillars until we see a giant door?” Asked Leo. All eyes turned to Annabeth, and she shrugged.

“Odysseus just says we’re supposed to feel it.”

“That’s unhelpful,” Reyna huffed.

“I think we just keep going until we feel a pull, and then we follow the feeling.”

Percy’s shoulders stiffened beside her, and Annabeth knew what he was thinking before he said it.

“We followed a mysterious pull right into a trap yesterday. I’m not all that inclined to do it again.”

She couldn’t blame him for that.

“This time we know to expect it, though. And we know not to follow it all the way,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.

“I still don’t like it.”

“I know.”

There were several long moments of heavy silence. Then Hazel said, “I guess this means you guys haven’t felt it yet?”

All eyes turned to her, and she shrugged, a bit nonplussed.

“I’ve been feeling it for hours. A little tug and… happy anticipation. Like when you’re almost home after a long trip.”

“You’re not the only one,” muttered Nico. “But mine feels distinctly less pleasant, I think.”

Annabeth looked between the two of them, trying to puzzle out the missing variable. Were they maybe just far more in tune with their feelings than everyone else?  Annabeth was doubtful.

“Okay,” said Jason. “Then we follow Nico and Hazel’s directions.”

Percy’s jaw clenched, but everyone else seemed to agree. He flicked his eyes over to Annabeth.

“I think it’s our best course of action.”

He sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

“Alright. Up top, you two. Let’s make our way to the doors.”

Annabeth cleared her throat, and her family paused to look back at her.

“There’s one more thing we need to think about.”

She turned to look at Grover.

“Do you have any silver chalices? Or just… maybe a particularly nice bowl that would be suitable for a blood rite?”

Grover gulped.

It didn’t take long for the rest of them to begin to feel the pull as well, but it manifested slightly differently in each member of the Argo crew.

For Annabeth, it felt similar to the promise of a new book.

The Pillars of Heracles rose up sharply out of the sea  – large and looming, and as stark as any warning sign.

They had reached the very edge of the known world, the place where Gaia had first lain with Uranos, and then later given birth to Oceanus, forming the boundary of the endless sea.

“There ,” Nico said and shuddered. “Dead ahead.”

Annabeth looked at Nico. Nico looked at Annabeth.

“Pun intended,” he drawled, then pointed to a very large, but otherwise entirely unprepossessing sea stack.

“We should weigh anchor here,” Annabeth said. “I don’t want to risk getting too close.”

“I’ll let the captain know.”

Annabeth squinted at the sea stack and tried to find some mark, some distinguishing characteristic that set it apart from the mortal realm. But she couldn’t find anything of the kind.

If it hadn’t been for the pull, she wouldn’t have given it so much as a second look. But even if she couldn’t explain why, she knew that Nico was right.

“Weigh anchor!” She heard Percy call from the helm, and Frank — steady at the windlass —- followed his order. “Trim the sails, too! We’re not moving a meter until it’s time.”

While they waited for the sun to make its way west, the members of the Argo played cards and traded stories. Annabeth finally got to hear how Will had saved Percy’s arm after a particularly gruesome accident in the rigging. He and Nico had found Will by accident as they went desperately from door to door in the nearest port town, trying to find someone who knew where to find a doctor.

“I don’t know any doctors,” Will had said, “but I read a lot of medical textbooks for fun.” And apparently, that had been good enough for Percy.

At Annabeth’s look of utter horror, her captain had just shrugged.

“It was the right decision, Wise Girl. And he was very convincing.”

There was a small, wistful smile on Nico’s face as he looked over at Will and said, “Best decision we’ve ever made.” Then he seemed to realize he’d actually uttered that aloud, turned bright red, and looked studiously down at his lap.

For a moment, the golden-haired miracle worker looked like he might cry, but instead, he smiled a smile that was brighter than the late afternoon sun and laced his fingers through Nico’s.

When the sky began to grow pink, Grover pulled out a small, rather ugly, and bright blue ceramic bowl. The sight of it made Percy burst into laughter.

At her questioning gaze, he said, “I stole that for Mom when I was only about seven or eight. My first successful act of thievery. She had it displayed like a medal of honor for years.” His voice slowly grew softer, and more melancholy as he spoke.

“That’ll do nicely,” she replied, sending Grover a small smile.

Then she turned to Will, who had brought his best scalpel.

“Do you want to do the honors?”

“I think it should be you,” he replied. “I’m not the expert on magic rituals.”

Neither was she, but she didn’t argue. Instead, Annabeth took both the scalpel and a deep, steadying breath, then motioned for everyone to stand.

Grover handed her the bowl, and she held the little thing in the palm of her left hand, with Will’s scalpel in her right.

For hours, she’d agonized over what to say – planning out several long-winded, overly complicated speeches before finally settling on something simple.

“We have found our homes in one another, and so we will spill our blood for one another,” she whispered. “May we stay tied to this mortal world together for many years to come.”

She started with Percy, who stood at her immediate right, using the scalpel to make a small, delicate incision on the edge of his left hand and collecting a drop of his blood into the bowl.

She sang as she worked:

“May I return home to my love, oh, my love. Just let me return to their arms. My home is with them, all my love, all my love. So please keep them safe from all harm.”

Will cleaned and bandaged each cut immediately after she made it, except for the one she made on his hand, which Nico bandaged for him.

When it came to slicing into her own skin, she hesitated. Before she could make the cut, Percy’s hand slipped the scalpel from her fingers.

“Let me do it, Wise Girl,” he murmured.

“I can do it myself,” she replied, but it was half-hearted.

“I know. But please?”

Just let me take care of you.

He didn’t have to say it aloud for her to know it was what he meant. Instead of replying, she held the bowl and her hand out to him. Will took the bowl; Percy took her hand.

He was careful and precise. It stung, but just for a moment, and then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the small scrape before handing the scalpel to Will and bandaging the edge of her hand.

Then Will gave the bowl back to her and she walked to the edge of the ship, flanked by her family.

“To the gods of the deep,” she began. “To the earth and the sea of the mortal world. Here is a gift of our blood and our bond.”

She poured the contents of the little blue bowl into the glistening ocean below just as the crown of the sun slipped below the horizon.

Ahead of them, a silver archway appeared in the sea stack, just big enough for the Argo to fit through.

“Time to ease the sails, I think, Captain,” said Jason, and Percy nodded, then turned to Annabeth.

“I know you’re probably going to want to hang off the bowsprit by your knees so you can collect samples of the no doubt deadly waters below–”

An exaggeration, but only a mild one.

“But if you could please limit yourself to the mainmast, I would be eternally grateful.”

Annabeth sighed, about to nod when Jason cut in again.

“I can take the helm, Percy.”

“You sure?”

Her captain glanced at his navigator, and Jason leveled Percy with a knowing, nudging stare.

“Very. You two should go enjoy the view.”

Percy’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he gave Jason a grateful smile. Then he slipped his fingers into Annabeth’s and allowed her to pull him to the tip of the bow.

Annabeth’s heart was in her throat as they approached the front of the ship. If she had done the ritual incorrectly, they might all be heading to their deaths. But then Percy’s hands gripped the railing on either side of her; his body was warm and sure and strong at her back, and her fears eased somewhat. Or at least, they eased enough that she could ease his in return.

“This is going to work, right?” He whispered. “Hades will help us. We did everything correctly.”

“Whether it does or it doesn’t,” she replied. “We will figure it out together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

When the Argo was only a few dozen meters away, the stone within the glowing arch seemed to grow insubstantial. It became more and more translucent until it disappeared entirely. The sea seemed to stretch on before them, and for a moment, Annabeth wondered if they were just going to pass through the archway and simply end up on the other side of the sea stack. But then she noticed the sky.

On either side of the sea stack, the sky was dotted with shining stars whose light was so clear and pristine that it felt almost sacrilegious to look at them. Between the archways, however, the world was not lit by stars, but by glittering gems.

She heard Percy’s breath catch.

Without realizing it, Annabeth shifted closer to the edge of the bow – her forward step was brought to an abrupt halt by the firm press of Percy’s hand against her abdomen.

“Right here, honey,” he admonished. “You’re going to stay right here where I can keep ahold of you.”

They sailed through the bejeweled tunnel in awed silence. The only sounds that accompanied them were the echoes of their own hushed breaths and the sounds of the waves lapping against their ship.

On and on they went, buffeted by a wind that filled the sails, but didn’t touch their skin, along what felt like a path with no endpoint. Occasionally, Annabeth would catch a glimpse of something – a shadow? – out of the corner of her eye, and try to get a closer look. Each time Percy would tighten his arm around her and pull her right back against his chest.

“ Percy, ” she sighed, mildly exasperated.

“We’re in the world of the dead, Annabeth,” he breathed into her ear. “I’m not taking a single fucking chance, you understand me? Now stay still.”

Eventually, the sea became a river, and the river began to grow increasingly narrow until it tapered to a point where the Argo could only just barely pass through.

And then, out of the darkness, an onyx throne rose like a battlement — gleaming and shadowed in the flickering lights of the Argo and the gems that hung above their heads. It was etched with grim images of tortured souls and gaping skulls so lifelike (wrong word, but still) that Annabeth felt her stomach protest.

The Argo came to a complete stop at the foot of the throne, no anchor necessary.

A man, and yet clearly not a man seeing as he was a good twenty feet tall, sat on the throne, exuding an air of impatience.

“Took you all long enough. I’ve been waiting for eons,” he said, his voice cold and detached. He hadn’t even looked at them yet and was instead examining the nails of his right hand, his face mostly covered by his curtain of dark hair.

“Lord Hades,” Annabeth began, trying not to let her fear shake her voice as she rushed to say what needed to be said. Percy was warm and solid behind her. “Lord Hades thank you for accepting us as guests into your realm.”

There.

Now he would have to abide by the rules of Xenia – or was it Theoxenia? Either way, they had an added element of protection. He couldn’t kill them without due cause. And sheer annoyance wasn’t necessarily due cause.

The god’s mouth flattened into a straight line.

“Welcome, then, guests, and make your case. Per all binding agreements if you trade subpar knowledge I have every right to collect your souls as payment owed for my time. Now hurry up so we can get out of — oh.”

He blinked at them, and then his lips quirked up into what one might almost be able to describe as a surprised half-smile. So long as one generally considered smiles to be ominous portents of doom, that is.

“Well, by Zeus and all of his stupid beards,” he mused.  “If it isn’t a veritable family reunion. The stars must have really aligned for this.”

The man— the god— Hades — was beautiful and terrible. Long dark hair, high cheekbones, pale as the moon, with full, pouting lips that reminded her vaguely of….

She looked over at Nico. Then back to Hades. Then back to Nico.

The god on the throne let out a cold, sarcastic laugh.

“If it isn’t my great, great, great-grandchildren. And a few grand-nieces and nephews as well. Glad to see the lineage hasn’t died out altogether. Still a few heroes among our offspring’s offspring.”

Grand… children? Plural? She examined Hades’ face, his dark brows, his gold eyes.

Oh.

She wondered if Hazel had realized it yet. Nico certainly had; he was staring at Hazel wide-eyed.

“As interesting as this is, I’m a busy god,” he intoned, somehow sounding both lethal and bored at the same time. “So, tell me your best-kept secret, and if it's good enough, you can ask for your boon and be on your way.”

Boon? Singular?

“Lord Hades,” Annabeth began, and she felt Percy stiffen behind her. He must have caught the edge in her tone. “Boon, not boons? There are eleven of us and—-“

“ Boon , girl. One. One per ship.”

Oh, gods.

She felt, rather than saw all the hope drain out of Percy at those words. When no one stepped forward, he looked at Nico, then at Reyna.

“My mother would never forgive me if I saved her at your expense. It should be one of you two.”

Nico took an unsteady step forward, blindly reaching out his hand for Will’s.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t… Sally… I won't put Sally at risk.”

Reyna shook her head and crossed her arms.

“My sister is healthy and well enough. Sally needs this the most. And besides, I owe her my life ten times over.”

He looked at Annabeth.

“Wise Girl?”

“No,” she snapped. “Absolutely not. Don’t you gods damn — oh, sorry, Lord Hades— don’t you dare. ”

The god on the throne let out a loud, irritated sigh and began to tap his fingers impatiently against the obsidian arm of his throne.

“I can’t be the one to take it, not when –”

“Well, I’m not about to take it, either!”

Apparently, Hades wasn’t willing to wait for them to figure the issue out among themselves.

“Enough!” The god snapped. “Descendents of mine or not, I don’t allow mortals to waste my time like this.”

His eyes went to Nico.

“Your sister cannot be brought back from the world of the dead. She drank from the river Lethe and was reborn to loving parents. She’s a happy child, and you must let her go.”

Nico turned more pale than usual. He took one unsteady step towards the edge of the Argo before he all but collapsed into Will’s arms.

Annabeth hadn’t realized… but Nico had most likely lost more than just one family member, hadn’t he? Hadn't they all?

Her heart broke for him, the boy who wore grief like a crown, and she swore to herself she would see him happy.

Hades barely batted an eye at the effect his words had.

How dare he.

“How dare you—” she began but then thought better of it.  Big god. Puny mortal. And also… that information was a kindness, even if it was a painful one.

Hades’ eyes narrowed on Annabeth. She couldn't quite tell if he looked curious or menacing — she hoped curiosity just looked somewhat menacing on his godly face.

Behind her, she felt Percy’s hand go to Riptide at his hip.

Would he dare?

Yes. Yes, he probably would.

Gods, she loved him.

She had been a hair's breadth away from breaking the law of Xenia. It was possible Hades would demand her life in recompense for even toeing that line.  But Hades didn’t call for her blood.

No, instead, he studied her closely for a long, drawn-out minute, and then proclaimed: “You look just like your mother, girl.”

Annabeth’s mind skidded to a halt. How on Gaia’s green earth did he know her mother? She barely knew her mother.

“You… know my mother?” It was little more than a breath. She wasn’t sure how the god even heard it, but he responded nonetheless.

“Of course I do. I never forget a supplicant. Must have been, what, twenty-odd years ago now? Does that sound right?”

“I have no idea,” Annabeth admitted in a strangled whisper. “You’re saying my mother came… here?”

The ship behind her went deathly quiet and all its crew went still. Percy seemed to have stopped breathing altogether.  Annabeth would have to explain, she knew. She would have to explain. But not now. Later. Later when she could think.

Because right now, Annabeth’s soul was clinging to the edges of her body by a thread, and she would just about trade it to know more.

Or she would have, a few weeks ago, when it was still entirely her own to trade.

Hades’ eyes lit up.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “What would you give me, girl, to know the answers to all your questions? What are all the truths behind the making of the known and unknown world? What’s out past the endless sea? Does your mother ever regret her choices in the cold of the early morning? I could tell you.”

“What would you want in return?” The question slipped out of her lips before she could stop it.

Stupid. You know what he wants. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“I would take that bright little light beneath your skin,” the god replied and extended a hand towards her. “What do you say, curious child? Give me that questioning soul, and I’ll quench its thirst.”

This time, Percy’s hand did not simply hover. He drew Riptide — the sound of ringing metal pierced the air. And he stepped in front of Annabeth with all the confidence and rage of someone who was far more used to facing off with an immortal god in his own domain.

Xenia be damned, she supposed. Damned right to the pits of Tartarus.

For too long, neither one of them spoke. Nobody spoke. Nobody even breathed.

Then, Hades raised an eyebrow.

“You would try to fight a god, boy?”

“I would.”

“You would die trying.”

“I might.”

“For a mortal girl who’s been keeping secrets? Who hasn’t told you yet that her mother is the… what are you mortals calling it? The Athena? You’re lucky the Goddess of Wisdom can’t pierce the veil, you know, or you’d all be dead by now for using her name so callously.”

Percy didn’t so much as blink.

“Annabeth’s secrets are hers to keep, Lord Hades. As is her soul.”

For an instant, something akin to admiration flashed in Hades’ expression before he narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

“Put your hackles down. She wasn’t going to accept my offer.”

Percy visibly relaxed, although he didn’t move from where he stood in front of her. But he didn’t attack Hades, either.

Instead, he looked at Annabeth over his shoulder, a desperate question in his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to,” she rasped. “I swear.”

The god sat back and steepled his fingers.

“Alright then. Make your choice. Who will ask me for a boon? And I’ll give you a little advice since I’m feeling magnanimous: don’t try to explain how time travel works. I already know. No gossip about long-dead philosophers or heroes. And for the sake of all the fates, don’t try to reveal the secrets of the universe to a god .”

Percy turned towards Nico again, and, once again, Nico shook his head. Reyna took several steps back, crossing her arms. The rest of the Argo crew was just as resolute; every line in their bodies said the same thing:

It’s not going to be me.

It seemed they were still at an impasse, then, since Percy wasn’t going to put his own needs above those of his crew.

Annabeth stepped forward; she would just ask for a way to find Percy’s mom, and then Percy wouldn’t be able to waste any more time trying to moralize his way through what everyone already knew he needed to do.

She would be selfish for him if he couldn’t do it himself.

There. Problem solved.

Only as she stepped around Percy, his hand locked around her elbow.

“No.”

“Percy, if you’re not going to do it, then I will.”

“You’re not going anywhere near him.”

“ Fine . Then stop wasting time just because you don’t think you deserve good things, and do what we all crossed the gods damned — oh, sorry Lord Hades —-the sea for! We came here for you and your mom. Stop diminishing our efforts and do what needs to be done.”

Percy blinked. Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder and pushed.

“Go! Before he decides it’s easier just to kill us all.”

There was a ledge just off the port side of the Argo that led down to the foot of Hades’ throne. Percy climbed up onto the ledge without another moment’s hesitation and stalked over to the god of the underworld with far, far too much attitude.

It was an act, she knew. The set of his jaw told her that he was much more anxious than he was letting on.

When he reached the foot of the throne, he tilted his head back to meet the god’s eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered something that didn’t reach the waiting ears of the Argo crew.

Annabeth imagined it wouldn’t do for anyone else to overhear the secrets that were only meant for Hades himself.

Hades looked skeptically at Percy, then he looked back at the ship, then back to Percy.

“That is not a secret,” the god snapped irritably. “I realized that the moment I saw you. Everyone knows that .”

“Even her?”

“Especially her.”

Percy sighed. He looked over his shoulder again, and his eyes met Annabeth’s. He gave her a look that told her they would be having a talk once they left the underworld. His eyes stayed locked on her for several heartbeats before he finally turned around to the god at his back.

“Try again, nephew. If this one isn’t to my liking, I’ll take your lover’s pretty soul, send the rest of you away with extreme prejudice, and bar you and your descendants from my doors for all eternity.”

Percy’s hands ran through his hair and tugged violently at the long, messy strands. When his eyes met hers again, his fear was so palpable she could almost taste it.

You’re the one who knows things, Wise Girl, his expression seemed to say. Not me.

But Annabeth knew that if anyone could do this, it was Percy. Observant, clever, thoughtful Percy. A man who had sailed the wide world and had earned all that he knew from experience and hardship, friendship and kindness.

She hoped he could read it in her face.

He took in another deep breath and squared his shoulder. Then he tilted his head up to Hades and said something that did not reach her ears. The god mulled it over, shifting his lips from one side to the other as if he were tasting the secret, tapping his chin.

“Not a bad vintage, actually,” Hades finally declared. His eyes flicked over to Annabeth; a small, and still cold, but genuine smile lifted up one corner of the god’s mouth.

“Just like my Persephone,” he said, the ice in his voice melting to the point where he sounded almost wistful.

Then he seemed to catch himself, and his face lost all softness. “Alright. One boon for the bastard boy. What will it be?”

“A way to find my mother.”

“Safely!” Annabeth yelled. “Safely and quickly! Something that will actually take us directly to her, and not just give us a vague sense of where she might be or lead us on a wild goose chase that will only eventually get us there.”

“What she said.”

Hades gave them all a highly disparaging look and then rubbed at his temples.

“Fine, fine. Here. Take this – “

The god waved a hand and then extended it towards Percy. An enormous shell sat on his palm – a good fifteen or twenty centimeters wide and so bright white that it seemed to shine in the darkness.

“What is-”

“A magic compass that I stole from your great-times-a-hundred-grandfather. I can’t very well return it after three millennia, can I? No. I’d never hear the end of it. Especially since I finally convinced him he’d simply lost it. So take it and get out .”

Percy collected the shell in both arms and took the same ledge back to the Argo at double the speed as he had before. Then, with a lazy wave of his hand, Hades sent the Argo sailing backwards down the river.

“Goodbye, demi-demi-demi-gods,” he said, somehow still sounding bored. “See you when you all die in a few decades.”

How pleasant.

“So,” Percy began as he dropped the clam to the deck and leaned against the gunwale beside her. “You know.”

Annabeth tried not to smile; she didn’t meet his eyes.

“Know what?” She asked, failing at her attempt at innocence.

“How I… uh, feel. About you. You know.”

Annabeth’s smile won out.

“Don’t worry,” she said, patting his arm faux-consolingly. “You were very subtle about it. Did a really good job of keeping it hidden.”

He snorted.

“So closed off,” she continued. “So cold and brooding and detached. I wonder what could have possibly given it away? Certainly not the fact that you would have tried to stab Hades just because he looked at me funny.”

He snatched up her fingers and nipped admonishingly at the skin of her knuckles.

“So much attitude, Wise Girl. Does that mean you’re not upset?”

“No. Why would I be upset when I love you, too?”

He went still.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Ridiculous man.”

And suddenly he was kissing her with such intensity that he bent her backwards over his arm. She wound her hands firmly around his neck, certain he wouldn’t let her fall, but desperate to hold on to him, nevertheless.

When they finally broke apart, he gave a low, triumphant laugh and buried his face in her hair.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He said it like a prayer -- a confession that lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders -- and breathed a sigh of relief against her.

“I know.”

“Say you love me, too.”

“I love you, Percy. So much. With my whole heart, I love you.”

And then he was kissing her again, with all the desperation of a starving man at a banquet, and he was half-laughing, half-crying. Or maybe that was her. Or maybe it was both of them.

Because they had done it.

They had done it, and they were in love, and the diamonds above their heads shone almost as brightly as the stars, but not nearly as brightly as their joy.

Chapter 27

Chapter Notes

You guys are the cutest!!!!!! <3 Oh my gosh the cutest.

I'm gonna be away this weekend, so this is it for a few days. Hopefully I'll be able to post Sunday night? Maybe Monday morning.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The magic compass in a clamshell that Hades stole from Percy’s great-times-a-hundred-grandfather worked like most compasses do. There was no clear demarcation indicating exactly where it was going to direct them, but the arrow pointed steadily towards the northeast, and Percy took to the helm – visibly buoyant with hope – to follow wherever it may lead.

No one even tried to sleep that night.

They all sat near their single-minded captain, sometimes talking, sometimes too immersed in their own thoughts for any conversation. The air was thick with a combination of anticipation and relief, joy and despair.

Nico’s head rested on Will’s lap, and Annabeth saw the way he pressed his lips firmly together – refusing to make any kind of sound that would bring attention to the tear tracks on his cheeks.

Annabeth’s eyes met Will’s, and her friend shook his head as he ran his fingers tenderly through his lover’s hair.

The message was clear: let him be.

Hazel seemed to be in a daze. Her eyes kept drifting to Nico. She must have recognized the echo of her own eyes in Hades’ head.

Annabeth supposed the revelation didn’t change much about their lives, except now they knew that they were distantly ( very distantly, thank the gods ) related.

Eventually, Jason’s eyes found her, and he leveled her with an assessing look.

“So, Annabeth. Something you want to share with the class?”

She shrugged, a little bit at a loss for what to say.

“I mean, I get it,” he said, not unkindly. “If anyone understands how you’re feeling, it’s me. And probably Percy, too. Powerful parents are a pain in the ass. But that’s some pretty critical information to keep from your crew.”

Annabeth sighed and tried to collect her thoughts into some semblance of a coherent explanation. Percy was watching her from the helm.

You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, his eyes told her.

But… Annabeth wanted to let them in. If she couldn’t trust them with her secret, then she couldn’t trust anyone.

“If I’m being honest,” she began, “I never even fully believed it myself. A part of me hoped it wasn’t true, you know? And… well, what was I supposed to tell you? That the all-powerful Athena, the virtuous, virginal Priestess of all Knowledge was actually my mother? That sounds like something a mad woman would say.”

Nobody argued with that.

“Fair point,” Jason muttered.

“It explains a few things, though,” said Hazel. “Like why you’ve got such a target on your back. And, now that we know, we’re just going to have to take some extra precautions.”

“Might make for some good leverage, too,” added Reyna. “You know of one of her most shameful and dangerous secrets. That means you’ve got power over her.”

It was a heartening thought.

They sailed on through the night and into the morning, and when the sky began to lighten, a glimmer on the horizon drew her attention – a dome about a hundred meters tall, shimmering, and opaque like mother-of-pearl, sat perched above the ocean.

Their compass directed them right through it.

Everyone held their breath as the bowsprit pierced, and then passed harmlessly through, the bubble.

As it washed over her, a shiver went through Annabeth; it felt almost as though they had passed under a cold curtain of water.

Then they were sailing towards the silhouette of a small island. Percy’s eyes were feverishly affixed to it, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel of the ship.

Was he even breathing? It didn’t look like it.

Annabeth went to stand beside him; he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“What was the secret?”

“Hmm?” His eyes flashed to her, distractedly, then back towards the island in the distance.

His grip on the wheel had loosened, if only fractionally.

“The secret you told Hades. What was it? I want to know.”

That caught his attention, and Percy tsked raising one eyebrow sardonically as he looked down at her.

“You want to know?”

“Yes. In fact, I demand to know. Right now.”

The tension melted from his frame as his eyes sparked with humor and lust.

There we go, Annabeth thought. That’s better.

“I don’t know if I’m going to tell you, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth made an indignant noise in the back of her throat and scowled menacingly up at the man she loved. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t seem to intimidate him at all.

Quite the opposite, actually, if the way his pupils widened was any indication.

“So impatient,” he teased. “I might want to keep you in suspense, sweetheart.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt her face growing flushed.

“Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

One of his hands fisted in her hair.

“Say please.”

“Please?”

His eyes flicked over her shoulder, then back down at her, and his lips twitched into a half-smile.

“Time to weigh anchor.”

That half-smile widened into an impish grin at the sound of furious frustration that Annabeth made, and then he pulled away.

The island was small and mostly flat, with soft sand beaches and sweet meadows of wildflowers, pocketed by groves of slender trees.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Untouched.

Surely, if Sally had been living on this island for years, they would see signs of it? Whether or not she still lived, they would see something.

Oh, gods. What if they didn’t find her?

What if they only found what remained?

Annabeth was about to order Percy back to the Argo, but Will tapped their captain on the shoulder and pointed to a spot not too far in the distance.

“Percy,” he whispered. “Look.”

And there, emerging from around a boulder at a bend in the beach, was a woman with billowing brown hair. She was carrying a bright blue basket and dressed head to toe in blue silks.

“Mom,” Percy gasped, sounding as if he didn’t have enough air in his chest. Then he was sprinting across the beach. “ Mom!”

“ Percy!” the woman yelled – and then she was running, too, her basket and its contents left forgotten on the sand. Mother and son collided in a crushing embrace, falling to their knees and gripping one another as tightly as they possibly could.

“Is this a dream?” Asked the woman. “Am I dreaming? Are you really here?”

“I’m here, Mom. I’m here.”

Grover was only a few steps behind, and as he sank down beside Percy, the woman’s arms opened wider and she pulled Grover’s head to her shoulder.

“My boys,” she laughed through the tears. “Oh, my boys. You found me. How in Hellas did you find me?”

“It’s a long story,” Annabeth heard Grover say. “You see, it started with a kidnapping. And then we murdered some Aeneans, and killed some Athenians, and there were monsters, and … well, I mean, I guess all of us should probably get to tell you –”

“All of you? All of you? Where – oh!” And the woman pushed up to her feet before running with open arms to the Argo crew.

She moved like a bee, or maybe a hummingbird, flitting feverishly from flower to flower, pressing kisses to each cheek she could reach, wrapping her arms generously around each chest she could hold.

“Look at you all! Oh, just look at you! Nico, baby, what’s wrong? Don’t cry! Oh, Hazel-girl! Have you gotten even smaller? Or has Frank just gotten bigger? My loves, you’re all alright. You’re alright.”

And then she turned back to Percy, who had come up behind her, and flung her arms around his neck again. This time there were no words. There was no space for words anymore because the world was too full of joy.

Annabeth was glad, so, so glad, to bear witness to it. Even as envy nipped at her heels, she kicked the little beast away and focused on the happiness.

They were all together again.

Percy was in his mother’s arms, and she was holding him as if she would never let him go.

And his unrestrained euphoria made Annabeth’s heart soar, even as a lump rose in her throat, and even as her eyes stung with tears she absolutely would not shed.

Because this was not the time for her selfish, personal sorrows. This was a time for celebration.

But then Percy’s head lifted from his mother’s shoulder, and there was no way for her to hide it all – not from him – not as his eyes met hers.

His gaze was painfully soft, and Annabeth felt horribly seen beneath the warmth of those bright green lights.

She smiled — or tried to, it was a trembling thing – and shook her head as Percy made to disentangle himself from his mother’s embrace.

“Don’t,” she whispered. Mostly to herself, but a little bit to him. “Please don’t.”

It wasn’t that he disregarded her plea so much as he saw right through it.

Percy took his mother's hands from around his neck and kissed them before letting them go and walking to Annabeth, who was still shaking her head.

“Percy, no,” she protested.

“Hush,” he admonished, and tucked his finger under her chin. He placed a lingering kiss on her temple, then her cheek, and then her mouth.

His whisper was intimate and only for her when he bent down and said, “I love you, and so will she. How could she not?”

He pressed his forehead to hers for the briefest of moments, then took her hand and led her towards the woman in blue.

“Mom,” he said; his voice was thick with tears, but still as bright and certain as the rising sun. “I’d like you to meet my Annabeth.”

“ Our Annabeth!” Will interrupted. “She loved me first!”

Percy grinned at their indignant friend, utterly unrepentant, then dipped his gaze to Annabeth’s and said, “Sweetheart, this is my mom, Sally.”

Before Annabeth could so much as stutter out a hello, she was pulled into the kind of hug that only a particular kind of mother could give.

Her body stiffened for half a heartbeat before relaxing into Sally’s all-encompassing embrace — an embrace that she hadn’t realized she’d needed for twenty years until she was already in the middle of it.

And then Annabeth promptly burst into tears.

It took a few minutes to convince a slightly confused but very kind Sally that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“It’s just been a long day,” Annabeth explained, utterly chagrined, after she’d collected herself enough to take a few steps back. “And I haven’t slept. And Lord Hades wanted my soul. And Percy would have tried to fight him to the death –”

Almost immediately, Percy had an arm wrapped around her, and Annabeth let herself lean her cheek against his chest. He reached out his other hand and laced his fingers with his mother’s.

“Ready to go, Mom? I think we could all use a little bit of sleep.”

Sally’s face grew a bit pinched.

“Go?” She asked hesitantly.

“Home, Mom. Well, sort of. We never got the Blue Lady back, but—“

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of a high, sweet, silvery voice coming around the bend.

“My darling blue bell! My favorite little forget-me-not! Where did you go? Won’t you come back to bed?”

The most beautiful woman that Annabeth had ever laid eyes on came sashaying sultrily around the corner. She had long, honey-colored hair braided in front of one shoulder. Her large eyes and full lips were set into a face that seemed ageless, perhaps even timeless.

“I- oh!” The woman came to a stop. “We have guests?” She seemed momentarily confused but then clapped her hands in glee. “We have guests !”

Sally’s face went completely pale, and Percy became so tense that Annabeth felt momentarily worried that a stiff breeze might break him in half.

“Bumblebee – I – Callie, these are my children.”

And the woman, who had already looked over the moon, somehow grew even more resplendently happy.

“They’re here!” She cried, and tears glittered in her beautiful almond eyes. “You have no idea – oh, your mother has missed you so much. But now you’ve found us!”

She stepped forward, and Percy stepped back.

“Mom?” He asked. Just that one word was so full of confusion and distress that Annabeth felt her heart break for them both.

Annabeth slipped out of his arms and moved to greet the woman who, Annabeth thought, was quite likely not a woman but rather a nymph, given her appearance.

“Callie? I’m Annabeth. It’s nice to meet you. Is this your island?”

“Yes! Yes, hello!” She stuck out her palm and took Annabeth’s, but rather than responding with a handshake, she just held Annabeth’s hand in hers.

“I’m Calypso! Callie to all one of my friends,” she laughed nervously and then began to ramble.

“This is my island. And you know, I’m so glad you’re here. Sally’s been so sad, you know. Well, we both have. It’s a lonely life on an enchanted island, sometimes, especially when, like me, you’re not allowed to leave. Not to say Sally isn’t good company! She’s the best there is. And life was so much worse before we found each other. And she almost died because of that awful, awful man, and I’m cursed to stay on this island forever. So…”

She had said it all in one breath, eventually trailing off with an awkward sort of half-shrug.

Her eyes flicked anxiously from Annabeth, to the other members of the Argo crew, to Sally, then back to Annabeth.

Annabeth smiled as warmly and sincerely as she possibly could, and saw a little bit of the tension drain out of the nymph’s face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Callie,” she said. And then she raised her voice to say, very pointedly and not at all subtly, “I’m so glad you two found another. It would have been just awful for either one of you to have been alone these past few years. I can’t imagine what that kind of isolation might do to a person.”

Piper, as usual, was quick to catch on. She came to stand by Annabeth, greeting the nymph with her signature charm.

“I’m Piper. You’ve got a very beautiful island, Calypso – “

“Oh! Please, call me Callie. I like it so much more. That’s the name Sally calls me, you know? Sally and Callie! That’s us! And – and – well, the gods all used to call me Calypso. And then they left me here to rot while they all disappeared into who knows where. They forgot about me, I think.”

“That’s awful!”

“Well,” said the nymph with a sad little shrug, “I’m used to it. Happens all the time.”

Her eyes traveled to Sally, and then again over the crew of the Argo, then back to Sally, and a flash of pain lit her features. Immediately, Calypso seemed to wilt in on herself.

“Before you all go,” she said quietly, “would you like some breakfast?”

“Yes, please!” Will chirped, coming up behind them.

He was quickly joined by Frank, who expressed his hunger and gratitude in that gentle, deep voice of his. It seemed to have a soothing effect on the anxious nymph.

Annabeth turned back to Percy, who was still standing frozen, gripping his mother’s hand but not looking at her.

She glanced at Sally, who looked utterly lost as her eyes moved between her son’s pale face and Calypso’s stiff, tacked-on smile.

Sally would choose her son. It was obvious to Annabeth. She would choose her son and leave Calypso behind if he asked her to, and the choice would cut her so deeply that she might never recover.

Annabeth stepped towards them and took Percy’s other hand.

“We’ll be right behind you, Sally. I just… we’ll be right there.”

Sally nodded, squeezed Percy’s grip, and then went to follow the others around the same bend she had come from.

“Look at me, Percy.”

He did.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

The corner of his mouth ticked up into a rueful smile.

“I’m being a bit of an ass, huh?”

Annabeth shrugged but didn’t deny it. Lying to him wouldn’t help any of them.

“It’s just… I don’t know. She’s alive. And she isn't alone. And they’re clearly in love, and I should be happy, but…”

When he didn’t seem able to finish his thought, Annabeth finished it for him.

“But it means she has a reason to stay here.”

He nodded, and his face grew pained. Annabeth reached out, twining her fingers through his hair, and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he sagged into her.

“It’s a good thing then,” she murmured, “that we don’t have to go anywhere for a little while. And you know what else?”

“What?” He mumbled.

“We have a magic compass-clam that can bring us back to visit whenever we want. This isn’t like before, Percy. You know she’s safe and loved. You know where to find her. You can see her all the time.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yes, oh . Ridiculous man. Now let’s go make sure your mom realizes this, too, before her heart breaks. Okay?”

“Good plan.”

Then: “Hey, Wise Girl?”

“Yes, Seaweed Brain?”

“Do you still love me even when I’m being ridiculous?”

“Especially then.”

He was quiet for a little while, and he didn’t move from where he rested on her shoulder.

“Percy?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

His sigh of relief was audible.

“I love you, too.”

Percy was much more himself by the time they caught up with everyone. His smile was back, and his stiffness was gone.

Sally, Calypso, and the Argo crew were standing in front of a small cottage – strung with climbing vines and flowers of all shapes and colors, and decorated around the trim with massive sea shells. It was a home – a sweet little home, just barely big enough for two people, and clearly very well-loved.

The sight of it made Percy’s expression soften into wistfulness.

“You won’t all fit,” the nymph was saying as she wrung her hands together. “But I can bring out some blankets and we’ll have a little picnic out here!”

Sally was standing just to the side, looking conflicted as she watched Calypso disappear into the house.

“Mom?” Percy asked as he and Annabeth walked up the path to the little house. She glanced up at them, obviously trying her best to keep up an easy exterior.

When they were close enough, he reached out to take her hand.

“Do you think we can build a few lean-tos? You know, for when we come back to visit you two? And if we’re going to stay for a little while, we’re all going to need a place to sleep if there’s a storm.”

Sally’s answering smile was wider than the entire Hellas Empire; she took Percy’s other hand and squeezed.

“Oh, yes,” she said, sounding like she might be on the brink of tears again. “Yes, I think we could do that.”

Then she turned her shining, grateful eyes on Annabeth.

“You’re a very darling girl, aren’t you? And perceptive, I think.”

Gods damn it. Damn her overfilled heart and her outrageous tear ducts to the depths of Tartarus.

She wouldn’t cry in front of Percy’s mom again – not twice in the span of an hour, at least. She would have to wait until an acceptable amount of time had passed before she fell apart again.

“All that and more, Mom. Annabeth is one of the bravest, smartest, sweetest people I’ve ever met. She’s the reason we made it here at all.”

Percy was not helping her keep those traitorous tears at bay. Annabeth kept her eyes trained on her feet. If she looked at either of them – at any of them – she was going to lose it.

She was too gods damn tired to handle people being so nice to her.

“And my son obviously loves you very much.” There was no small amount of pride in Sally’s voice as she said it. And then: “I’m so glad he found you, Annabeth. Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

If it hadn’t been for Calypso returning with several plates of food, Annabeth would have turned into a puddle at their feet right then and there. As it was, she only had to hide her face in Percy’s chest for a few moments before she was able to join their family on the blankets that they’d spread out on the ground.

They told Sally all that had happened on their journey here. She gasped and grinned at all the most terrifying moments, giving Percy a look of proud approval when he described what they had done to the temple ships and their passengers.

As Annabeth explained, haltingly, exactly why the Athena had sent her forces after them, Sally’s face darkened with murderous intent.

“I’d like to have a word with your mother, I think,” she said.

“Join the club,” Piper muttered.

“I’ve made us matching hats,” added Leo.

Annabeth’s laugh turned into a yawn midway through its conception, and Percy looked at her tenderly.

“ Tired?” He mouthed. She nodded.

He moved so that his back rested against the base of a shady tree and beckoned her over onto his lap. With some mild hesitation and one shy glance at his mother, she scooted over onto his lap and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

“Sleep, love,” he murmured drowsily. “Let me hold you while you rest a while.”

She peeked up to watch his face as his head tilted against the tree and his eyes fluttered shut.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rest of their family finding similar ways to hunker down for a much-needed mid-morning nap.

Sally looked over them all with sharp, watchful eyes -- as if she were afraid to look away, as if they might disappear if she so much as blinked.

“Don’t make me tell you again, Wise Girl,” Percy grumbled.

“Or what?”

His response was an unintelligible mumble of sleepy sounds.

“Ohh, scary,” she whispered. But her eyes blinked heavily once, twice, and then she was gone.

Chapter End Notes

Look, okay, so I'm sure I made some Leo/Calypso shippers grumpy with this, but I just... had to. You don't understand. Sally was on an abandoned island, and.. and... and... Calypso is an immortal nymph who is definitely a grown woman in my general imagination and....

I needed soft femme lesbians, okay??? I just did. I needed it.

Chapter 28

Chapter Notes

Alright, y'all, a content warning for the sex? You know I love my feral Percy. And he is maybe a little bit feral about having his come inside various parts of Annabeth's anatomy.

If that's gonna be not great for anyone, skip around the parts with the **asterisks.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

After a few hours rest, they were once again functional enough to do what needed doing.

There were supplies to be fetched from the ship and shelters to build – two things that required a certain amount of… muscular dexterity.

And, in the shaded, humid heat of the island’s green grottoes, protected from the sun's rays by the slim branches and wide leaves of the native trees, that meant a very distinct, very distracting lack of shirts.

Annabeth tried to focus on the task at hand: fashioning make-shift mattresses from Calypso’s old linens and the wool of her freshly shorn sheep. It was time-consuming, since the wool needed to be cleaned and carded, and the linens needed mending before they could be stuffed.

So she really, really tried not to waste time by noticing the way Percy was hefting branches and splitting wood with so much ease.

She was noticing it, though.

And Percy knew it.

The bastard.

He kept shooting smug glances over his shoulder after each swing of his ax.

At one point, he even stretched his arms over his head before shifting them out and up so that the muscles of his shoulders and arms became even more prominent.

He was flexing.

The man. Was. Flexing.

And grinning.

And winking. At her.

She was going to kill him… if he didn’t kill her first.

And it wasn’t just that he was showing off every single muscle on his beautiful, sweat-slicked torso, it was that he was showing them off while building them a gods damned cabin.

Well, not a cabin, per se.

They were simple structures, made up of the Argo’s old, spare sailcloths and basic wooden frames — each spacious enough for one person to stand comfortably.

They had wooden roofs to keep rain at bay, and fabric walls that would give them some semblance of privacy in the dark. Each one would have a raised platform to keep its inhabitants from sleeping directly on the ground and wool mattresses to provide a bit more comfort.

(When Annabeth had suggested she make that last addition, Piper and Will had both looked at her adoringly.)

Percy wasn’t doing it all single-handedly, of course. Every member of the crew was pitching in, as were Sally and Calypso.

But that didn’t negate the fact that the man she loved knew how to erect a structurally sound, architecturally feasible, form of habitation with his bare hands.

Swaggering sexuality was one thing, but competence ? Competence was a whole different beast altogether.

Hazel had taken one look at Annabeth's face and asked if Annabeth had been making sure to drink her Maidensroot tea every day.

She had.

Thank the gods, she had.

Calypso showed them to a cool, clear, spring-fed pool when, several hours later, the last of the shelters was finally finished.

The pool wasn’t too far from the beach, sitting just under the only hill on the whole island. Water trickled down into it from what could almost be considered a waterfall, but was really more of a natural fountain, then flowed in looping eddies from the deep center of the pool into tree-lined pockets of still water. The lush, laden, drooping boughs around each pocket provided verdant curtains of privacy.

It was nothing short of glorious.

“The waters have healing properties,” she said, smiling proudly. “They’ll soothe your aches and blisters better than any man-made concoction.”

(Will seemed to take some slight offense to that, but he kept his thoughts to himself.)

It was that moment just after dusk when anticipating the cool air of night made the passing heat of the afternoon feel even more oppressive. And the Argo crew, sore from hard work and flushed from exertion, wasted no time taking full advantage.

They stripped down to their underclothes and ran into the cool waters.

Annabeth, who rarely wore a strophion (they were itchy) and never felt the need to bind her small breasts, waded into the water in her underwear and shirt.

The pebbled bed of the pool was slippery under her feet, so she moved carefully— taking step after slow step until the water reached her ribs.

In the center of the pool, Grover and Will were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest.

Nico and Hazel were standing by the trickle of the waterfall. Frank was floating peacefully on his back, as was Reyna. Leo and Percy were diving down to the bottom of the pool as they tried to observe the small, shimmering fish that made it their home.

Piper and Jason had disappeared behind a curtain of green.

Annabeth crouched until the water went to her shoulders, and then tilted her head back, dipping her hair into the cold water and running her fingers through it to rinse away the day.

When she rose back to her full height, Percy was watching her with sharp eyes.

She sent him a jaunty little wave. Then, with a fortifying breath, she ducked beneath the frigid surface and kicked her way towards one of the unoccupied semi-obscured pockets before re-emerging.

It took mere seconds for Percy to follow her. He cornered her against the edge— looming over her and caging her body with his own.

“Do you realize,” he growled, “that your shirt is completely see-through?”

That certainly wasn’t ideal, and she would have to plan better in the future. But she couldn’t bring herself to care as possessive hands grabbed at her hips and green eyes gleamed with want.

Annabeth blinked up at him, letting a coy smile curve at the corners of her lips.

Turnabout was fair play, after all.

“It is?” She asked, her voice dripping with faux-innocence.

His hands went around her to grab at the flesh of her thighs. Annabeth followed their unspoken command and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“It is,” he bit out.

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He pressed harder against her, pinning her between his forearms and his hips.

“Because the thought of anyone but me seeing your pretty pink nipples and your soft, perfect little tits is going to drive me insane.”

Oh, she liked that.

She liked that very much.

What would happen, she wondered, if she just … nudged that nerve?

“And why should you get to make decisions about who sees my breasts? Hmm?”

A rumble of disapproval reverberated in his chest.

“You really wanna play this game, love?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He nosed her jaw to the side and began the process of leaving a very large, very visible bruise on her neck.

She squirmed against him and tried not to alert their companions to her current position with any overtly lascivious noises.

When he pulled back, he regarded his work with pride.

“There. Much better,” he purred. “Let everyone look at that instead. Leave the rest of you for my eyes only.”

One of his hands slipped between her legs, and he grinned at what he found there.

“That made you wet, honey. Didn’t it?”

Annabeth would neither confirm nor deny such a baseless accusation, and she said as much.

He chucked into her ear. Then, still holding her cradled against his chest, and disregarding her flustered squeaks of embarrassment, he walked out of the pool, bid goodbye to his crewmates, and went back down the hill to their hut.

“Now what,” Percy began as he stripped her of her wet clothes, “do you need from me? Hmmm? What’s got you so desperate?”

Annabeth took a deep breath.

“I want to engage in sexual intercourse with you.”

Suddenly, she was on their bed and he was above her, his forearms on either side of her head, and he was grinning that feral, crooked grin.

“You mean You want me to fuck you, honey?”

“Same thing!”

“No. No, it’s not. A million percent not. I’ll accept ‘fuck,’ or ‘make love,’ or, ‘Please, Captain, I need you inside me.’ But I will not accept ‘engage in sexual intercourse,’ love.”

Annabeth ignored the way his newest term of endearment had her insides turning into a puddle and shifted her hips until his erection was pressed directly where she needed it. Percy let out a noise that wasn’t quite human.

“How about that, huh? That clear enough for you?”

Her sass was met with a sharp bite at the curve of her neck and a hard thrust of his hips, making her whimper.  When she tried to tug at his waist, Percy took her wrists and pinned them above her head, keeping ahold of both of them in one firm hand.

“I’ll tell you one more time, Wise Girl. You can say, ‘Please, Percy, make love to me,’ or ‘Please, Percy, fuck me,’ or ‘Please, Captain, I’m so empty and I’m desperate for your incredible cock.’ Take your pick.”

Despite all the fire burning through her veins and all the desire she had to rile him up just that little bit more, she found herself going soft and pliant beneath him.

“Please, Percy,” she whispered. “Make love to me?”

His hand on her wrists relaxed and then released its hold. He shifted above her, settling himself heavily between her thighs, pressing his weight right where she so desperately needed it – a steady pressure now, rather than harsh thrusts.

Her arms went around his neck, and his hand trailed down her bicep and across her shoulder until it reached the back of her head. Then he coaxed her head up so that it was cradled against his collarbone.

“You’re sure?” He asked softly.

“Very sure. Please?”

“Anything, love. Anything you want, I’ll give to you.”

“I want you inside me.”

He lowered her head back down to the mattress, then shifted down her body, spreading her knees and settling his shoulders between her thighs.

“Percy,” she whisper-yelled. “That’s not what I meant!”

There was a hot sting of pleasure and pain as his palm met the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a sharp smack that made her cry out.

So much for trying to stay quiet.

Oh, well.

The rest of the crew was probably still in the pool, anyway.

“I know what you meant, sweetheart. You’ll get it, but first I’m going to get you good and ready for me.”

She keened but knew better than to try to argue again.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he ordered, and when Annabeth’s frustrated groan wasn’t to his satisfaction he gave her other thigh another sharp smack.

Did she say she knew better than to argue? Because clearly, she did not .

“You said you were going to give me anything I want!” She whined.

His lips ghosted over her clit, and he chuckled.

“I am , love. Complain all you want. We both know you like it when I tell you no.”

She covered her face with folded arms, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how right he was.

“Now are you going to be good, so I can make love to you, honey? Or are you a brat who needs to be fucked? I’m happy either way.”

She was tempted to take him up on the second option, but it wasn’t what she truly wanted — at least not at that exact moment. She would keep it in her back pocket, though.

“I’ll be good,” she gasped.

“Prove it.”

He held still over her for a long moment, and Annabeth tried to curb her impatience by focusing on her breathing.

In.

Out.

She could trust him.

In.

Out.

She could let go.

In.

Out.

He would take care of her.

She felt her body relax, and Percy clocked the change in her demeanor almost immediately.

“There she is,” he murmured. “That’s my sweet girl.”

Then he lowered his mouth to her clit and gave a leisurely lick just where she liked it best. One lick, and nothing more.

A test.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“So good for me, love,” he purred.

And finally, he began to savor her in earnest —  one finger sliding into her, pressing deeply and at an upward angle that made the caresses of his tongue all the more devastating.

He was relentless, keeping up a pace that quickly set her thighs and stomach to spasming with each stroke of his tongue.

And this time, when the build grew — still slowly and tortuously compared to the pleasure she could coax with her own fingers — she didn’t let her impatience win out.

She just let herself focus on the feel of him, the sight of his determined expression, the sounds of his clear enjoyment. Let herself focus on how good it felt to let him touch her how he wanted, to trust that he would give her what she needed.

And when the precipice finally made itself known, she warned him obediently and was rewarded with a gentle kiss on her stomach and a look of affectionate pride.

“Doesn’t it feel good, love? To hand over control to me?”

“Feels so good,” she whispered in agreement.

“Would you think that even if I brought you to the edge again?”

“Yes, ” she grumbled reluctantly.

He then, to her dismay and delight, proceeded to insert a second finger and test the validity of that statement. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

But Annabeth kept her temper in check.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

When he put a third finger inside her, she nearly came without permission.

“I’m gonna— oh! I'm too close, I’m—“

He pulled his fingers out, lifted his head, and smiled adoringly up at her.

“Skies, you’re being such a perfect girl for me. Aren’t you?”

“I’m trying ,” Annabeth whimpered.

“I know, love. You’re trying so hard to be good. And do you know what that means?”

“ What ?” She almost sobbed.

“That means you get to choose. You can come on my tongue now, or you can come on my cock later. Which do you want?”

She didn’t have to think about her answer.

“Your cock,” she groaned.

“Oh thank the gods,” he said in a rush of breath. “Really worried you were gonna call my bluff on that one.”

His relieved admission made Annabeth laugh.

Then he was kneeling above her, and Annabeth let her eyes trail over him greedily. She cataloged the details of his tattoos, the ways they stood out starkly against his tanned skin, the ways they highlighted the lean muscles of his arms and torso.

He grinned at the look on her face.

“Gods, I’m a lucky man.”

“How so?” She asked, and he shrugged.

“I mean, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life is naked on my bed, and she’s looking up at me with those big gray eyes of hers like she wants to eat me for dessert.”

It was Annabeth’s turn to smile. Percy’s face softened, his humor melting into tender concern.

“Do we need to be prepared for any possible consequences? Should I not come inside you?”

“I’ve been taking Maidensroot.”

His eyes darkened with lust, but he still didn’t move.

“You sure you’re ready, love? It shouldn’t hurt, but it might be a little bit uncomfortable for a minute or two.”

"I'm sure."

"The second you tell me to stop, I'll stop. If anything doesn't feel good, just tell me to stop. Okay?"

“If you don’t put your cock inside me I think I might actually implode.”

That was all he needed to hear.

The next instant his torso was hovering just above her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him; one arm was by her head, and the other hand was deftly stroking her clit.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see your eyes.”

Her eyes met his burning gaze, and then she felt him align the tip of his length with her entrance, and then he was pressing into her.

Oh gods , he felt so much bigger than she’d realized.

There was a stretch and pressure, and she felt so full — too full. But the pain was so sweet, and the fullness soothed that ache that had been building incessantly inside her all these long weeks.

Her lashes fluttered shut, and his hips stopped moving.

“Eyes, love. Don’t make me have to remind you again.”

She snapped them open and tried to focus on his face.

“You okay?” He murmured.

“So full,” she gasped, and he rewarded her with a wicked smile.

“Gods, you are really good for my ego,” he said with a low laugh and rested his forehead against her. “Can you take more, sweet girl?”

“Please!”

His fingers left her clit, his hand moving up to palm the back of her head, and she whimpered in protest.

“Shhh, honey. I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

Then he pressed further forward, slowly, inexorably, and the feeling of fullness increased.

Annabeth shifted her legs wider to accommodate him, needing to feel him as close to her as humanly possible. Percy groaned as he brought his hips flush against hers, sheathing himself fully inside her.

They both shuddered in a mixture of utter relief and near-overwhelming gratification.

How was she supposed to even breathe when she felt like this? There wasn’t space inside her for air. Did she need space for air, though? No. No, she would rather have Percy.

His head dropped to the curve of her neck, his panting breaths coming in quick short gasps.

“You feel so fucking good, love,” he rasped into her hair. “Your cunt is so perfect. You're taking me so well.”

Experimentally, Annabeth shifted underneath him. His hands on her tightened.

“Stay still,” he admonished. “I need a minute to adjust, or I won’t last long. And that would be so embarrassing that I’d never be able to talk to you again. So, please. Hold still.”

One of his hands moved to her nipple, and he stroked it gently with his thumb. Annabeth had to bite down on her lip and dig her nails into his skin to keep the rest of her body from demanding more.

It felt like an eternity before he finally, finally, rolled his hips in a long languid thrust. The movement made his pelvis brush against her swollen and sensitive clit, and Annabeth felt a jolt of pleasure course through her.

Her neck arched back and she gasped, practically choking on the heat roiling in her veins.

“That feel good, honey? Just like that?”

“Like that! Please, Percy. Please please please please,” she begged.

He took mercy on her and began to move in a steady rhythm— always keeping himself at least somewhat inside her, never pulling out fully before pressing all the way back into her.

She was grateful; the thought of being empty for even a moment made her want to dig her nails into him and never let go.

“You like my cock deep in your cunt, love?”

“Feels so good so good so good—"

“You ever gonna let anyone else inside you like this?”

“No! Only you! Only ever you.”

“Why, sweet girl?”

“Belong to you—- love you— only yours—all yours,” she moaned.

“That’s right, honey. You’re all mine.”

Then he rolled them over, so quickly it made her dizzy, maneuvering her easily so that she was kneeling above him, straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside her.

Annabeth blinked down at him, momentarily confused, and he blessed her with that little crooked smile of his before guiding her hips with a push and pull of his hands.

“Go on, sweetheart. Use me. Take what you need.”

She shifted her hips cautiously against him, and he let go; giving control over to her.

Annabeth’s movements were stilted at first, but she quickly gained confidence, eventually setting a pace that made the muscles of her stomach clench and her thighs quiver.

She missed the weight of his body on top of hers, but with this position, her clit dragged torturously against the skin of his pelvis and his cock hit her at such a deep angle –

“You’re so beautiful, Annabeth. You know that? You look like a goddess above me like this.”

He was watching her with a wide-eyed, worshipful expression. Adoration lined the corners of his mouth.

That look alone almost sent her beneath the waves of her building orgasm.

“I love you,” she gasped.

“So much,” he replied in a low, breathless whisper.

One of his hands moved to cup her breast; the other went to her clit. His thumb began to stroke over her, and Annabeth was already so close— so close—

“Please?” She whimpered.

“Go ahead, honey. You can come. Be my good girl and come on my cock.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her muscles tightened and spasmed as pleasure overtook her. She rode out the wave until she couldn’t stay upright anymore and collapsed against him.

He held her to his chest with both arms as he took over the movements, thrusting up into her at a brutally delicious angle. His hips sped up, and she let out soft little gasping cries into him, half-heartedly trying to pull herself away from the sharp pleasure of over-stimulation. He paused for a heartbeat, loosening his hold, but when she didn't tell him to stop, he simply shushed her and held her still against him with an iron grip until she submitted to his thrusts with a contented whimper.

“That’s right,” he purred when her body went lax, and then he flipped them once again so that she was beneath him. His fingers went to her clit again and stroked until she stopped begging for mercy and began begging for release.

“Not yet,” he panted, and he drew his hand away even as she pleaded with him to let her come.

Annabeth buried her hands in his hair and dragged his mouth to meet her own in a demanding kiss. He humored her for just a moment.

Then his hips slowed until his thrusts became long and lazy once again. She tried to take matters into her own hands, tiling her pelvis so that she could meet him halfway, trying to push up into him, but one of his hands went to her waist and pinned her down.

“Settle for me,” he murmured, and she obeyed, relaxing her body beneath the comforting weight of his larger one.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“Eyes,” he rasped, and she focused dazedly on his face. There was so much desire and affection in his expression that Annabeth felt lost to it – entirely submerged in the deep waters of his gaze.

Then: “Will you let me take care of you, love?”

“Ye— ah! “

Her agreement was cut off by her sharp cry of pleasure as he rolled his hips against her. His hand went from her waist to her inner thigh, and he pushed it up and to the side, spreading her open wider while simultaneously holding her down.

He was so much bigger than her, so much stronger. But that size and that strength, she knew, would never be used to hurt her.

“Let me protect you?”

“ Yes.”

He rewarded her with another languid press that somehow reached a spot even deeper inside her than before.

“Let me love you?” Thrust. “Make you happy?” Thrust. “Let me belong to you?”

“Ye-es!” She whimpered in a broken, desperate sob.

His movements paused, and Annabeth just about wept at the cruelty of it. Then his hands came up to stroke tenderly at her flushed and sweaty cheek.

“To whatever end? In this life and the next?”

“Yes, yes, always.”

“Swear it.”

His bright eyes burned fiercely into her very soul.

“I swear, Percy.”

The next instant, his fingers were on her clit again, and he was telling her to come— his voice as sweet as sin and twice as tempting.

She came apart at the seams for him, and he groaned low into her ear and pressed himself deeper as he found his own release inside of her. She could feel the warmth of his spend as his cock pulsed within her, filling her even further. The sensation thrilled her to her very core.

His his his his his.

When his body relaxed, he rolled to the side and pulled her against his warm chest— she could hear his heart pounding furiously, his breath rapid across the crown of her head.

** His hand traveled down, down to the apex of her thighs, and his fingers trailed through their combined releases.

“Oh! Ah- too much! ”

His fingers were gentle, but she was so, so sensitive.

“Hush, love. You’ll be alright,” he crooned, and then he was pressing his fingers into her. “Just let me keep this inside you a little longer.”

He turned her on her side and pulled her back against his chest, never moving his fingers from their spot between her trembling thighs.

“Tyrant,” she grumbled. “It won’t take root.”

He huffed a laugh into her hair.

“I know, love. But humor me, hmm? I can’t explain it, but I need to make sure my come stays inside your pretty cunt. And who could blame me?”

The prospect of his warm release being kept inside her sent a shiver of pleasure through Annabeth. It was such a deeply possessive gesture, and she so longed to be possessed by him.

“Yes, Captain,” she mumbled sleepily, and he made a noise of approval.

They were quiet as their breathing slowed, content to linger in one another’s embrace. The world felt peaceful when she could experience it within his arms. With his kisses against her temple and his velvety praise in her ear. **

When they both had calmed and the sweat on their skin had cooled, Percy slipped his fingers out of Annabeth and brought them to her lips.

She knew what he wanted, and took his fingers into her mouth to savor the taste of them both on her tongue. Swallowing it all down as he watched her with a small, proud smile.

Even overwrought and exhausted, her body once again flared with warmth at the look in his eyes.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. Then he nudged her cheek. “Now give me your mouth.”

She tilted her head to him, giving him access to her lips. His kiss was soft and lingering, careful and caring.

They pulled apart, and he reached over to grab his water pouch and bring it to her lips. When he was satisfied that she’d had enough, he asked, “How do you feel, love?”

She mulled over his question for a moment. A part of her had expected to feel different— profoundly changed.  But she still felt like herself. Herself, but more satisfied than she’d ever thought she could possibly feel in her entire life.

“Good,” she said with a contented sigh. “Really, really good.”

“Not in pain? Uncomfortable?”

“A little bit—” she was interrupted by her own yawn. “A little bit sore, but it feels nice.”

“You were so beautiful, my love.”

She made a doubtful noise.

“I’m pretty sure I was open-mouthed and drooling at one point.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the most beautiful open-mouthed drooler I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re not half-bad yourself, Seaweed Brain,” she said dryly, and he nipped at her ear in admonishment.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” he demanded.

Annabeth stuck her nose up into the air and tried not to giggle.

“Shan’t.”

“Tell me I’m funny.”

“Won’t!”

“Tell me I have a huge, magical cock and a tongue that makes you see stars.”

“Your ego is big enough already.”

“Tell me you love me?”

Oh, now that was playing dirty.

“I love you more than anything, you silly, pretty man with a magical cock.”

And even though she’d said it sarcastically, it was all true.

“Yes! I knew it!”

His fist punched at the air in a gesture of victory, and Annabeth couldn’t stop her peals of laughter from spilling out into the warm, starlit night.

Chapter End Notes

For anyone wondering, a strophion is like an ancient Greek bra.

Chapter 29

Chapter Notes

I've written the final line of this story, my dears. (Not this chapter, don't worry. It's ... 5 chapters from now? I can't math.) And now I might be hitting you all with a barrage of chapters, because the goblin is demanding it.

There's an epilogue in the works, but it's currently just a collage of ~vibes~.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

First one week, and then another, and then a third passed by in a haze of lazy, euphoric contentment.

In the mornings, they ate plates of fruit and fresh bread slathered with sheep’s milk cheese by the crystal blue waters. Annabeth was always careful to drink her bitter tea without fail. And if she ever looked like she was about to forget, a brisk noise of disapproval from one of her sisters set her back on the right track.

In the afternoons, they swam under the sun until their skin was flushed and sore from its rays, or they picked flowers with Sally on the wildest edges of the island; then they tended Calypso’s herb garden or slept beneath the shade of the lush trees.

Sometimes they trained on the beach. The effort it took to fight on the shifting sands made Annabeth’s thighs ache, but she was quickly getting stronger. Sally sparred with her a time or two, showing her the best way to behead an opponent and a neat little trick for knocking large men off their feet.

(Percy had offered to be her test subject once again – although not for the beheading practice. And, after the third time she’d knocked him clear on his back, had excused them from the rest of the afternoon’s activities.

Then he had taken her to bed and made her kneel above his face until he’d had his fill of her.

“Percy! What if I smother you?” She’d whispered in a panicked protest.

His resulting sigh could only be described as melodramatic.

“If only the fates were kind enough to let me die with my head between your legs, love.”

“I’m serious, Seaweed Brain!”

“Me, too,” he said, in a low, husky purr, and his fingers dug greedily into the soft skin of her thighs. “Please, smother me, Wise Girl. Just let me make you come while you do it, so I can go to the fields of Elysium.”)

In the evenings, they played dice and cards, or told stories by the fire, eating and laughing until their stomachs were sore. She found that not only was Sally almost as good a storyteller as her son,  she was also an excellent person to rest her head against when Annabeth grew too tired to keep listening.  And from across the fire, Percy’s face would soften as he watched the two of them, his eyes tracking the way Sally’s fingers carded through Annabeth’s curls.

Some nights were difficult, like when Sally relayed the events of the mutiny. The crew had listened, stone-faced and utterly silent, as she explained what had happened.

When she finished, her eyes flicked to her son.

“Is he dead?” She asked, in a flat, detached sort of voice that made Annabeth want to eviscerate the man who’d betrayed her.

“Yes.”

“Was it painful?”

“Very .”

“Good.”

Most nights, however, were all joy.

The island had given Grover all he needed to make a new set of reed pipes. Sometimes he played a reel or two after dinner, and they would dance, and Annabeth would let Percy stumble over her toes just so she could have an excuse to pull him close.

Once, Will threatened to take over all future dances with Annabeth so as to rescue her feet from being maimed beyond all repair. In response, Percy simply picked her up off the ground.

“There,” Percy huffed with feigned irritation. “Now neither of you have to worry about her toes being stepped on!”

Then he’d spun her around and around until she was dizzy, making her giggle like she had when she was just a child.

One night, Annabeth turned to Percy and said, “You know, I think it might be my birthday?”

Chaos had ensued – and drinking. Far, far too much drinking. (Sally, it turned out, was a very bad influence and a very good drinker. Her nymph was even more of a lightweight than Annabeth, however, and had to be carried to bed by Sally after only two cups of wine.) And then there were several rounds of off-key singing that were just about the sweetest thing Annabeth had ever heard in her whole life.

And, every night, when the last strands of sunlight had gone and the stars shone brightly above them, Percy would look at her in a way she knew meant he had waited as long as he possibly could, and he wanted her naked on their bed in the next few minutes.

Sometimes their passion burned slowly, and Percy’s hands were reverential as they traced over her body.

Sometimes they were too ravenous to even make it to the bed. Usually, that was because she had pushed him in just the right way, and Percy would pull her hair and bite her neck as he took her roughly from behind.

Occasionally they snickered and snipped sarcastically at one another, unable to keep from laughing.

Other times Percy had her sink softly down into that space they both enjoyed so much — letting her kneel at his feet until she was utterly pliant and sweetly dreamy for him before he fucked her.

“I want to know you like the back of my own hand, love,” Percy had said. And then he had proceeded to chart her body like it was the night sky, with her pleasure as his north star.

The days began to melt into one another, and, as more and more of them passed, Annabeth caught herself staring wistfully out into the horizon with greater frequency.

One morning, as they lounged sleepily before breakfast, Percy asked, “Wise Girl, how do you think this island works?”

“I’m not the right person to ask, Percy. You should bring it up with Callie.”

He made a low noise of admonishment.

“I prefer asking you. I like learning things from you —  listening to you talk. Especially when you’ve got something to teach me.”

Was that why he was always asking her questions, then? Just because he liked to listen to her talk?

“Well, I think we’re still in the mortal realm? Not like with Circe, you know. But it’s protected by especially powerful enchantments. Otherwise, anyone would be able to find it, and those enchantments have to take into account things like… oh, I don’t know… maybe motive? Intention? Something like that.”

“So you think my mom is safe here, then?”

“Safer than just about anywhere else. And Callie won’t let anything happen to her.”

He grew quiet then, and he stayed quiet for a very long time.

Then he asked: “Would you want to stay here, love? Would it make you feel safe?”

Would she?

A part of her was drawn to the idea of how easy it would be to spend the rest of her days in the peace provided by Ogygia. But there was something too… similar to her previous life.

The idea of being in one place, especially a place that was so isolated from the world, for the rest of her life? It made her insides twist into anxious knots.

“The island is beautiful,” she finally said, “but…”

“But?”

“But I don’t think I want to stay here forever. I need…” she trailed off, not quite sure how to put it.

He reached out their arms, cupping her hands in his larger ones, and examined them thoughtfully.

“You need to have the world at your fingertips, don’t you, my Annabeth?”

Something about the way he said it – so full of understanding, as if he were cut from the same cloth – almost made tears spring to her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Then that’s what I’ll give you.”

The discussion over breakfast was bittersweet. The Argo crew, much like Percy and Annabeth, had begun to feel a little bit restless after three weeks on the beach and were ready to set sail towards their next horizon.

They decided to stay for another few days, enough time to plan out their next steps and prepare enough supplies to get them where they needed to be.

“Then what do we do?” Annabeth had asked, and Percy grinned a shark-like grin.

“Oh, I’ve got plans, Wise Girl. Cities to raze, Athenas to dethrone, cowardly fathers to question, et cetera.”

She rolled her eyes.

“We’re not razing the Scholar City, Seaweed Brain. It’s full of innocents, and it’s the lifeblood of the Hellas Empire — ”

“Then maybe the Hellas Empire needs a new source of life.”

“ — Plus, if you dethrone the Athena, a new one will just take her place —- ”

“The new one won’t be on my list of people who need to die, so that’s not a problem.”

“ — I mean it, Percy.  I would rather just… move on. Find a way to do some good in the world and leave my mother in the past where she belongs.”

He lapsed into quiet thought, then sighed.

“Alright. Alright fine. We’ll leave it alone for now. For now . One question, though: does stealing from the rich count as doing good in the world?”

“Yes.”

“Great, then we’re all set.”

There was one thing that needed to be done, though, before they left.

It was a simple sunset ceremony.

Annabeth was in charge of sewing the dresses and veils, Grover the food, Piper the liquor, and Hazel the jewels, and everyone else took on the work of decorating the flowered arch under Will’s watchful eye.

At sunset on their last night, Percy officiated as Sally and Calypso swore their love to one another in front of eleven glassy-eyed pirates. Calypso was resplendent in a traditional yellow veil while Sally wore shimmering blue, and together, the two of them were more beautiful than anything Annabeth had ever seen.

“–- To whatever end. In this life and the next.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at Percy, who simply gave her a cheeky grin in return. And then the two women were kissing one another delicately, crying and laughing, and the Argo crew was pressing forward to envelop them both in a tight, joyful embrace.

Afterwards, there was a feast that only Grover could have made, enough wine to drown a small city-state, dancing, and more laughter.

Piper gave a speech about the nature of love that had them all weeping, especially Jason. The man was nearly bent double into Nico’s chest as the clearly very uncomfortable descendant of Hades patted him stiffly on the back.

“I’m going to marry her,” Jason blubbered as he soaked Nico’s shirt with his tears. “I’m going to marry her, you know? ‘Cus I love her so much.”

“We know, man. Just let it all, out, buddy,” said Will from beside his partner, smiling impishly, even as Nico shot him a death glare.

At one point, Percy pulled Annabeth onto his lap, and she whispered, “Just because you tricked me into saying wedding vows, doesn’t mean we’re married, you sneak.”

“Not my fault you fell for my tricks, Captain,” he replied.

“Since when am I a captain?”

“Since you married me,” the teasing gleam in his eyes was threatening to make her smile. “What’s mine is yours. Ergo, the Argo is yours, Captain .”

She ignored the thrill that shot through her, and tried to sound genuinely irritated when she said, “I didn’t marry you! Sex vows don’t count.”

“Do, too.”

“Says who?”

“Your husband.”

“I – you – oh!” She growled, unable to tamp down on the bubbly, feverish feelings that word called up.

He wasn’t her husband.

But... maybe one day?

“Husbands are supposed to listen to their wives,” she finally snapped, just a little bit too late for it to be impactful. His smile only widened, and Annabeth realized her mistake.

May Hera curse him for all eternity.

“Oh, are they? And are you my wife, then, Wise Girl?”

“No!”

“Hmmm, I suspect maybe you are.”

His head lowered to her ear, and he began to nibble at her lobe.

“Percy,” she huffed, even as her hips shifted against him. “You’re being indecent!”

“I can’t help myself. I have a very pretty and very demanding wife, and I want to take her to bed and please her in all the ways a good husband should.”

She was done for.

She was utterly, completely done for. Because now that she knew what he sounded like when he called her his wife, she would have to actually marry him one day. It had become an inevitability.

The bastard.

“Get control of yourself and go dance with your mother,” she ordered and tried to push herself up off his lap.

His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her even closer than before.

“She’s all wrapped up in her new bride, love. Besides, she’s a worse dancer than I am.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It’s true,” he murmured, and his hand left her hip to trail lower, lower – dangerously low. “So stop trying to distract me from my husbandly duties. I can tell you need me. Don’t you want me to take care of you, sweetheart?”

Yes.

“Do you want me to beg?”

That sent a shiver down her spine.

“...I - I - we–”

He knew he'd won, and he let out a low, arrogant chuckle into the curve of her neck.

“Please?” He breathed. “Let me take you back to our bed so I can taste that sweet cunt?”

If she didn’t disentangle herself from him in the next ten seconds, she would give in and just let him do whatever he wanted to her.

Will saved her from herself, thank the gods, swooping in to pull her out of their captain’s lap and into a dance with an impatient wave of his hands.

“You can’t have sex in front of everyone at his mother’s wedding, Annabeth,” he chided.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“You were seconds away from letting him finger you.”

“I’ll murder you.”

“No you wo-on’t,” he sing-songed, and spun her gracefully beneath his arm. “Because you love me. And you owe me. If it hadn’t been for me and Piper, you’d probably still just be looking at him all longingly and lustily from afar.”

“Everyone owes you. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would have killed the entire crew that first night.”

“I’m very glad you didn’t,” he said, pausing their movements to ruffle her hair. Annabeth beamed up at him, despite herself. “Now let’s see how long it takes for that barbarian of yours to break and to throw you over his shoulder, hmm?”

(An hour.

It took him an hour.)

Calypso found a second dinghy for them in her collection of shipwrecks, so there was no need to take two trips on their way back to the ship, and Annabeth was grateful.

Their goodbyes were already protracted and painful enough – multiple trips would have just made it much worse.

Sally had embraced each and every member of the Argo crew, holding them all as if she would never let them go and kissing their cheeks as if to make up for the kisses she wouldn’t be able to bestow in the upcoming weeks.

“Make sure you keep your swords clean,” she said. “Don’t let the blood dry, or it will be harder to get out if you do. And remember that anything that looks easy to steal is probably a trap. And don’t let Leo make any more bombs, please. Five is plenty for one ship. And if you leave your enemies alive they will want to seek vengeance so it really is just best to kill them outright, okay?”

Calypso had given them each a little package of cheese and bread, and a bouquet of wildflowers that matched their favorite colors.

Her cheeks and nose were pink from crying— matching her soft dress. She hadn’t quite believed them when they said they would return, Annabeth knew. It was a hard thing for her to believe after so many years of being forgotten, but they would show her in time.

Annabeth tried not to sniffle as she stood beside Percy at the helm of the Argo. He wrapped her fingers around the spokes of the wheel, pulling her out from her wistfulness with a lesson on steering his ship.

(“Our ship, love.”)

Later, they would blame how distracted they were on the bittersweet sadness that clung to them all like cobwebs.

Because the armada – a mix of temple ships and vessels from the Aenean navy – that ambushed them from around the corner of the Pityoûssai islands an hour later, took them entirely by surprise.

Chapter End Notes

Don't hate me.

Chapter 30

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The Argo tilted at a dangerously sharp angle as Percy spun the wheel hard to port, sending Annabeth stumbling into his side. He caught her with the crook of his right arm, even as he held the helm fast with his left.

“Can we outrun them?” He whispered to her in a hoarse rasp.

“Maybe? If we reduce our weight and reroute all power to the engine, we’ve at least got a fighting chance.”

He looked and her and nodded, and Annabeth was off like a shot to the engine room with Leo hot on her heels.

“Let loose the sails!” Percy bellowed out behind her. “Lighten the load!”

The sounds of heavy cargo hitting water rang out mere seconds later.

“Everything to the engine, Leo,” Annabeth panted, as the flipped the switches on the panels that controlled the flow of electricity to their ship.

Leo mumbled an affirmative sound around his mouthful of screwdriver, then he proceeded to strip the wires she’d shut the power to before reconnecting them to the breaker for the engine.

They worked quickly and in tandem.

Off. Strip. Reroute. On.

Off. Strip. Reroute. On.

Above their heads, the sounds of pounding footsteps and scraping metal grew louder as their crewmates began to throw anything and everything they could overboard.

The heaviest cannons would be the first to go – a gamble that would increase their speed at the risk of their offensive capabilities. If the armada caught them, they would be nearly defenseless.  But the goal here was not a fight; the goal was escape.

If the temple armada got within firing range of the Argo, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Off. Strip. Reroute. On.

Off. Strip. Reroute. On.

“That’s everything we got,” Leo said, finally.

“Right. Leo?”

“Annabeth?”

“Time for some bombs.”

It was one of her more ridiculous plans, she supposed. But a plan was a plan was a plan. And, right now, she would take what she could get.

“You’re telling me,” Leo said, aghast, “that you want to just send Big Bessie off, willy-nilly, into the middle of the ocean on a dinghy?”

Off to their left, Frank and Jason were grunting with effort as they hefted the ice box over the gunwale. Annabeth winced.

Her eyes flicked back behind them to where the Athena’s temple ships were growing steadily larger. There must have been at least twenty of them, quite possibly more. Most bore the standard of her past life – a royal blue flag emblazoned with a golden owl. Some flew the Aenean sigil – a purple, hungry-looking wolf.

Her eyes flicked up to Percy, who was standing white-knuckled at the helm. His gaze kept shifting from the horizon ahead, to the threat behind, to Annabeth, and back.

“Annabeth!”

Leo snapped his fingers impatiently.

“Yes. I mean no. Yes, send her off. Not willy-nilly.”

“If the timing is off –”

“She’s got a clock mechanism, hasn’t she?”

“...yes.”

“Then the timing won’t be off. I can do the math, it’s basic algebra.”

Leo looked at her dubiously, then he looked wistfully down at the electromagnetic cannon in his hands, and back up to Annabeth.

Finally, he nodded.

With a hollowed-out melon, a healthy dose of rope, and clothes arranged in a vaguely priestessly manner, they managed to turn Big Bessie into a pretty good approximation of an Annabeth-shaped trap.

Leo Jerry-rigged a small propeller with the water pump from Grover’s indoor garden and three tin plates. Then he set his pride and joy to self-destruct before laying her in gently in the dinghy and sending her off across the sea towards their enemies.

Annabeth watched through a spare spyglass as Big Bessie floated farther and farther from the Argo and nearer and nearer to the temple ships, her heart migrating somewhere into the vicinity of her throat.

Was the image shaky because of the choppy waters, or was it that her hands were trembling so badly that she couldn’t hold the spyglass still?

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Any second now.

She saw the moment it happened – the five temple ships that had drawn nearest to Big Bessie slowed to a sudden crawl as the reliable old girl took out the power to their engines.

The ships immediately behind them were caught off guard, and the resulting series of collisions caught half of their enemies in a crowded mess of tangled masts and broken hulls.

Any second now.

With an ear-splitting boom and a shockwave that sent the Argo swaying, Big Bessie made her final sacrifice, tearing through half of the armada with a vengeance.

From beside her, Leo let out a joyous whoop of victory before catching Annabeth up in a hug and spinning her around.

“Yes!” He crowed. “Take that, assholes!”

It had bought them a few minutes, maybe. But Annabeth knew the temple armada would be quick to recover, and then they would reenter the fray with twice the enmity; nobody who tricked the almighty and all-knowing Athena would be allowed to get away with it.

But in the end, a few minutes might make all the difference.

Her eyes went back to her love, who rewarded her with a small, proud smile. His knuckles were still white– the lines of his body still taut. He knew as she did that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“That’s my girl,” he mouthed.

And Annabeth, even as she felt the strands of her new life continuing to slip through her fingers with each passing second and with each centimeter of ground their enemies gained, had a deep and unshakable sense that this was always where she was meant to find herself.

With him. With them. To whatever end.

The temple armada was still gaining.

They had fashioned a catapult, and Leo’s bombs had taken out two more of the encroaching vessels, but it was still just a drop in the bucket. They were quick to the helm and still far enough behind that they were only just out of range to hit with any real accuracy. Especially with a catapult.

But the mother-of-pearl bubble around Ogygia was finally within sight once again – just there , glinting in the light of the late afternoon sun.

The Argo crew had held off their pursuers long enough to get within range of safety, and Annabeth felt herself begin to hope.

Almost there.

It grew closer. One hundred meters. Seventy-five. Fifty.

They were going to make it. All they had to do was slip through the protective shield of enchantments, and then —

Well, then they would have to figure out what to do with the armada amassed just outside the edge of it. But they would be alive. And if she was right about the way the island’s enchantments worked, the Athena and her forces wouldn’t be able to get past the barrier, armed as they were with ill intentions.

The wax-and-feather wings of her hope melted almost as quickly as they formed as a sharp beam of light shot out from one of the temple ships.

It hit them at an angle from the north – lucky, she supposed, or it might have done even more damage. All the same, the light cut deftly through the Argo’s topsails with all the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. And, when it reached the front of the ship, it sliced the fore-and-aft almost in half.

“Oh gods,” Hazel gasped from beside her.

Annabeth was too shocked by the sharp pain of it all —  by the brutal and sudden excision of hope from where it had been warming her chest— to even breathe as she kept her eyes riveted to the masts above her head.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then there was a low, moaning creak from deep in the wood of the Argo as the masts swayed precariously.

“Move!” Percy was shouting. “Move! Move! Move!”

Hazel grabbed her hand and they ran towards the stern of the Argo, beneath the deck of the helm, where they would be afforded some protection from the heavy wooden pillars. Beside them, the other members of their family pressed themselves beneath the outcropping of the upper deck.

If this was how it was destined to end, at least she would be beside them. There were worse things.

Percy was there in a heartbeat, his arms on either side of her, pressing her back into the door to the galley, his back to the beheaded sails as if his shoulders alone could hold up the weight of them should they try to fall in her direction.

Annabeth couldn’t look away.

The collapse happened almost in slow motion: the masts bent, then sagged, nearly falling onto the deck, but instead – by fortune or perhaps fate alone – precariously snagging against one another before they could crush the Argo crew below.

The beam of light shone out once again, and traveled down, cutting through a corner of the Argo’s hull with equally sharp malice.

It was a killing blow.

The Argo’s forward momentum slowed to a limp; with her balance off and her hull damaged, she couldn’t continue. Not even with the help of the engine that had gotten them to the Doors from Krymménos.

The armada was gaining, and the protective bubble of Calypso’s island was still too far away.

They weren’t going to make it back through the barrier before they were overtaken.

It was simple math.

“Right,” said Percy, his voice low and deadly. He stepped away from her and regarded his crew. “All of you, in the dinghy. I’ll keep them busy.”

Nobody moved a millimeter.

“That’s a fucking order,” he snapped.

“We’re not leaving you, Percy,” Grover replied calmly, crossing his arms. “You know better than that.”

“They’ll notice a dinghy full of crew,” Nico added, cool and calculating. “We’ll all be easy targets. Better chance of surviving negotiations if we stay on the Argo with our weapons.”

There would be almost no chance, no matter what choices they made.

Annabeth knew what needed to be done.

“You have to give me to them, Percy.”

The look Percy gave her could have sent Cerberus running in the other direction. She’d never seen so much anger on his face. At least, not directed at her.

She steeled herself and tried again.

“I’ll row over there, and if they have me then they won’t care about you. Or at least it will distract them long enough so that you can run. And regroup. Then… then you can always save me later. Once you have reinforcements.”

The lie felt heavy and awkward on her tongue. There would be no saving her.

But maybe she could save them.

Percy’s narrowed eyes traveled over the horizon to the ships that were steadily getting larger and larger; he ran a shaking hand through his hair and blew out a tremulous breath.

“I need – someone – to take Annabeth – back to Ogygia. Please,” he panted in halting starts and stops.

“ No!” She shrieked, but Percy continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He didn’t even look at her.

“They’re here for her. If they get their hands on her–” his voice broke, cracking under the heavy weight of fear. "We can't let them get their hands on her."

“I’ll take her, Captain,” said Frank, his eyes not leaving Hazel’s face. “I can get there and back the fastest.”

Nononononono.

“You will not,” she hissed, taking a flinching step back as Frank moved towards her.

This couldn’t be happening. This was a nightmare. She would wake up, and this would just be a nightmare.

She looked at her crew – at Hazel and Piper, at Will, and at Grover. There was grief in their eyes, but they all met her gaze resolutely. She knew then, that they wouldn’t question Percy’s order, not if it was made to keep her safe from the Athena. No matter how much pain it caused.

“ Percy!” She howled. “You promised!”

And something about the sharp betrayal and unmitigated fear in her voice must have cracked his resolve, because suddenly he was there again, tilting her chin up to look at him. Her fingers fisted tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

She wouldn't let go. She would make him keep her.

“ You promised to let me protect you,” he whispered -- soft, but firm. “I won’t let you break that promise. Even if it means I have to –”

His breath hitched.

“ – have to break mine.”

“If you just give – just – Percy, just give – over –” she tried, unsuccessfully, to choke out the rest of her sentence.

“Please,” she begged instead. “Please –”

His eyes flashed bright with anger, and his grip on her grew almost painfully tight.

“ No."

With just that one word, he sounded so utterly enraged, so wounded and offended that it made her want to flinch away. Not in fear, but in shame.

Annabeth didn’t let that stop her.

“She wants me. Not you! It doesn’t have to be you!”

“I will do everything I can to make sure that woman never gets near you again. If we can convince them you’re gone, give them back the journal, then maybe –”

“She’ll kill you,” Annabeth sobbed. She was starting to lose the ability to breathe as panic swelled her throat and tears congested her nose. “It won’t matter. It won’t matter. She’ll kill you.”

She would. Annabeth knew it. The Athena would kill her family for daring to endanger her secret.

Percy didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked steadily at her —  the anger in his eyes melting away into grief, then softening into resignation.

His hand cupped her cheek.

“I love you, Wise Girl,” he murmured, and then he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Percy if you fucking put me on that dinghy, so help me Hades, I will never forgive you.”

His heart broke open in his eyes as he firmly peeled her taloned fingers from his shirt. It took several long, painful seconds – she wouldn’t let go. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. He couldn’t make her let go.

But then, with her flailing wrists gripped tightly in his right hand, he took a step back and nodded at Frank.

It was easy for the gentle giant to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder. Her pounding fists and scrabbling nails were useless against him, and she couldn’t reach Truthseeker. Wasn’t sure she would be able to use it on him even if it had been within reach.

“If anyone wants to go, now’s your time,” Percy choked out. “I won’t think any less of you.”

Still, nobody moved.

And Frank carried her, kicking and screaming, into the dinghy.

Nico and Jason helped to lower the boat carefully into the waters below – their faces pale and their lips pressed into thin lines as they watched her descent with wide, pained eyes.

Down, and down, and down.

Farther from her family.

Farther from her love.

Too far away to protect them.

And she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

Chapter End Notes

Don't hate me?

Chapter 32

Chapter Notes

Look...

Okay, look. I know. I know. We're very mad at Percy. He's fine with that. He doesn't care. As long as Annabeth is still alive, he doesn't care. He'll be the bad guy, so long as she is still alive at the end of it.

Also, content warning: So much violence.

Annabeth didn’t say a word to Frank as he rowed them steadily away from the now-anchored Argo; the betrayal cut too deep. She could barely breathe around it, let alone speak.

She could see it all happening – had a front-row seat to the way the temple armada approached the Argo like hungry vultures.

When Annabeth and Frank slipped through the protective enchantments and their ship disappeared, though, and she could no longer see what was happening to her family, and the pain of it all became so heavy that she felt she might die just from that alone, she couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“I would rather die–” she rasped.

“We know,” Frank’s voice was mournful, even as it rode in on desperate, panting breaths.

He was rowing like a man possessed. Like a man who needed to get back to the love of his life. Who needed to be by her side when the inevitable happened. Annabeth felt a sharp stab of bitterness cut through her already shredded heart; why couldn’t he have afforded her the same mercy he was hoping for himself?

“But the Athena won’t just kill you, Annabeth. We all know that.”

No, she wouldn’t. Not right away, at least.

No. She would take Annabeth back to the Scholar City, parade her through the temples, and then bury her final secret in the catacombs of traitors below the Parthenon, where Annabeth would slowly die of thirst in the dark and decay.

The Athena wouldn’t just kill the Argo crew, either, though. She would torture them until they gave her up. Or she would try.

Annabeth knew she wouldn’t succeed.

“It’s going to be okay,” Frank said, half breathless and sweating profusely from the effort he was exerting to row them both as quickly as possible. “Sally will know what to do. She’ll help us come up with a plan.”

Annabeth felt her heart lift – just barely, just from her ankles to her knees. Frank wasn’t going to leave her behind to rot while he went off to die in vain.

He was going to get Sally.

When they reached the shore of Ogygia, Frank was too tired to move from the boat, so Annabeth was the one who sprinted to Calypso’s cottage to break the news while he caught his breath.

“Right,” said Sally, and reached for a trapdoor into the ground. It lifted to reveal a store of weapons, and she pulled out two swords and a leather shield.

Calypso watched with a horror-struck expression as Sally donned pants and a shirt, then strapped her weapons to her hips and back.

Tears tracked down the nymph’s pretty, freckled cheeks. But she didn’t try to stop her wife. She knew better.

Then, from the bottom of the small under-floor storage, Sally took out a small, unassuming sand dollar.

“I knew I was right to wait,” she muttered to herself, breaking the sand dollar in half.

At Annabeth’s questioning glance, she said, “A gift from Percy’s father. A summons. Ancient magic, and the last of its kind.”

Calypso handed them another set of oars.

“You’ll get there faster–” she began, but her sentence was cut short by a swift, fierce kiss from her bride.

“I love you, Bumblebee,” said Sally. It sounded like goodbye.

Like mother, like son.

Calypso’s lips trembled as she gave them a brave, watery smile.

Then Sally and Annabeth sprinted back to the dinghy together.

“I’ve sent for reinforcements,” she told Frank, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

When he began to protest as Annabeth got back in the boat, she said, “Annabeth comes with us.”

It was an order from a captain. From his former captain. Frank’s jaw clenched, but he acquiesced. Something like gratitude flashing in his eyes, and Annabeth nearly wept in relief.

Together, Sally and Frank rowed hard across the shimmering blue waters, moving at twice the speed they had before. They paused just before the barrier, and Annabeth crawled to the bow of the dinghy to catch a quick glance at the field of battle.

“Ten temple ships,” she reported back. “Looks like four have the Argo surrounded. They’ve definitely boarded her.”

Sally nodded.

“Okay. We need to buy time, Annabeth. Can you buy us some time?”

“I can.”

“Can you get onto the Argo without being seen?”

“Yes.”

She wasn’t the world’s best swimmer, but her body was strong and capable; she could do it.

Sally turned to Frank.

“Frank –”

“I go where Annabeth goes,” was all he said. His tone left no room for disagreement. Sally nodded and handed him one of her swords.

Sally rowed them as close to the ships as she dared. Then Annabeth and Frank climbed over the edge of the dinghy and struggled against the current until they reached the ropes that hung over the unmanned edge of the Argo.

They climbed it, silently, and when they reached the window that led into her quarters, Frank used the sword Sally had given him to shatter the glass.

He boosted Annabeth in; the broken glass caught at her limbs, driving deep gouges into the skin of her biceps and outer thighs.

Nothing that couldn’t be fixed later.

She turned to him – he was far too large to get in through the small window.

“I’ll see you topside?”

He nodded once, and then continued the climb.

She slipped as silently as she could through the hallway beyond and listened at the door to the deck.

There was the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then someone spat.

Then her mother’s voice hit her like a shot to the gut.

“You will tell me where she is, boy,” the Athena commanded. “Or I will make you watch as my men cut off your crew’s fingers, and then slit them from navel to nose.”

“I told you,” Percy replied, his voice little more than a pained rasp. What had she done to him to make him sound that way? “We got rid of her. Don’t you think we would have given her to you by now if we had her? And you’ve already searched my ship.”

Gods, Percy might never forgive her for this. Might never forgive Frank or his mother.

But that was fine. She wasn’t going to forgive him, either. And they could spend their lives together, decidedly not forgiving one another, for however many more years they were given.

Decades, Hades had said, and Annabeth clung to that.

Decades.

They would not die today.

Annabeth pulled Truthseeker out from its sheath and pushed open the door with a loud bang .

Every pair of eyes whipped in her direction, and the world went cold and still and quiet as a corpse.

Maybe it was because her clothes and skin were shredded from the broken glass. Or maybe it was because she was already climbing up into the tattered remains of the rigging that led up into the broken mizzenmast.

She wouldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made before. Wouldn’t throw herself headlong into the deep end.

“Hello, Mother!” She sang out with feigned cheer. “Guess what I learned in class today!”

There. That should throw a wrench in the works.

She let herself glance down at the players beneath her— a combination of temple guards and  Aenean soldiers that outnumbered the argo crew five to one.

Her crew had been disarmed, and each of them was being held on their knees by at least one soldier. Jason and Reyna were being held by two. Percy by three. Nico by four. They were positioned in almost concentric circles, with Percy nearest the Athena at the center.

“Get her down from there!” Her mother snapped. And two of the temple guards scrambled up after her.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” She asked as loudly as she could, springing lightly onto her feet on the head of the mizzen topmast. “Not because I stole some old family heirloom. But because you knew that I would ask Hades for proof. He never forgets a supplicant, Mother .”

One guard lunged for her, and she danced away; all it took was a little nudge to send them flying down to the deck with a very satisfying crack.

“And he didn’t forget you. So now the question is, just how sure are you that I haven’t already sent that proof of your treachery to be delivered to the Sky King himself.”

She didn’t have an ounce of proof. But the Athena didn’t have to know that.

The second soldier made the same mistake as their colleague and met the same fate.

Annabeth’s eyes flashed to Jason, whose hair was caught in the fist of one of the temple guards at his shoulders. His face was swollen and bruised from multiple blows.

She raised a finger and pointed at her friend.

“The Sky King whose son and heir you’ve had your guards beat, by the way.”

The guard holding Jason’s hair dropped him like he was a hot iron pan and took a step back; Jason’s body deflated in on itself.

“You used sorcery –” the word slithered out into the crowd below, oily and thick, and she saw the immediate effect it had on them.

Sorcery was forbidden amongst Priestesses of the Scholar City. It was the enemy of knowledge, The enemy of progress. It was what was left of the power of the exiled gods.

“ — To take control of the Scholar City. Is that why no one questioned it when your predecessor died, so mysteriously, and left her title to you, Mother? A woman who wasn’t raised in the temple. A woman who just appeared out of thin air.”

Again, did she have any proof? No. No, she did not. Did she need proof to make educated guesses and lie convincingly? Also no.

A shot rang out, and a searing pain went down her arm as a bullet grazed her shoulder.

She stumbled back a step, losing her footing, her left foot slipped —

Percy screamed. She'd never heard a sound so terrible in her entire life.

But then she caught at the mast, and her right foot stayed sure to the poles.

Despite the pain, Annabeth felt a flicker of glee.  Bullets and the powders that fired them were unbelievably expensive, and that one had just been wasted.

Her mother’s face flushed red with anger.

“No! I want her alive. Secure her!” she ordered. “Bring the blasphemous traitor to me.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moved, and Annabeth felt a moment of hope. A moment of victory.

But then two more guards climbed up the rigging of the mizzenmast, one of whom slipped into the water without any of her help, causing his fellows to pause.

She climbed higher – up into the foot of the broken topgallant – and began to taunt them from her perch when they stopped their pursuit just shy of her legs.

Over by the port side bow, Frank was making his way soundlessly around gunwale, partially obscured from view behind the lilting foremast. With all eyes on Annabeth, nobody so much as glanced his way as he soundlessly snapped the neck of the man holding Hazel and caught the guard before his body could hit the ground.

“Little landlubbers afraid of the rigging? Afraid of heights? Or,” she bared her teeth at them, “are you just afraid of me?”

She wrapped the rigging around her forearm (dangerous- Percy would be upset with her for that) then dropped into a low crouch on her left leg and swung out her right.

Her knee met the other soldier in the face, and he plummeted into the waters below with a guttural scream. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was back up on her feet. All that training in the sand was paying off.

“You put your lives at risk for a lair!” She sang down to them. “For an impure woman who has known a man’s bed.”

Annabeth grimaced internally. Because really, what business was it of theirs if her mother had sex? It was a slimy argument to make.

But she would use whatever weapons she had at her disposal – slimy or otherwise.

“You sacrifice yourselves for a woman whose scheming and sorcery led to the death of the last Athena. Didn’t you ever wonder? Didn’t it ever seem strange to you?”

There was a stirring of unease in the company below. But nevertheless, three more guards began to climb.

Frank and Hazel took out the guards holding Nico with rapid-fire speed, and the ship's shadow rose with all the dark menace of his godly ancestor, flitting silently from guard to guard until he reached the one who had dared put hands on what was his. The soldier died silently and quickly. Although Annabeth knew Nico would rather have made it last.

“Hades had quite a lot to say about you, Mother,” she yelled down. “That you were a desperate, miserable woman. Looking to escape her desperate, miserable life. So you left your baby and the husband you could never respect, let alone love, behind and found your way there all on your own.”

It was just a hunch.

An accurate one, though, based on the way the Athena visibly stiffened.

Annabeth felt a small flicker of admiration for her mother. A woman who had wanted more from life than it had given her. A woman who had wrenched and clawed her way to success with nothing but a tattered old journal, the clothes on her back, and the cleverness of her own mind.

She didn't begrudge the woman for not wanting the life that was thrust upon her. For not wanting to be a wife and a mother. Annabeth understood how trapped her mother must have felt. Understood because she had felt trapped, too.

If only she had left Annabeth out of it.

“But you couldn’t just leave it there, could you? No. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t let me just continue to exist out there, out from underneath your thumb. Not when I was a threat in the making.”

Annabeth would have continued with her monologue, were it not for the fact that she was caught from behind by a pair of gloved hands.

Well, fuck.

She took several deep breaths.

Cool.

Calm.

Clever.

Collected.

She allowed herself to be taken down and brought before her mother without resistance – it wouldn’t do to struggle in the grasp of soldiers who could barely keep their footing.

Besides, it was a mistake on the Athena’s part to bring Annabeth so close. It would make it easier for the guards to see just how similar the two women were. Even under the trappings of her status, the Athena looked almost exactly like her daughter.

“I will cut your tongue from your mouth for telling such lies,” the Athena spat, bringing up a silver dagger to caress the curve of Annabeth’s cheek.  “And then you will write your confession of treason, attesting to the filth of your lies before the assembled Priestesses, and you will be punished in a manner befitting your crimes.”

She could hear Percy struggling against the hands that held him firm, too far away for Frank to get to him yet.

She could not look at his bruised face, or Annabeth wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to claw out the Athena’s eyes with her fingernails and lick up the woman's blood like honey. And that would just have to wait.

Not long .

But it would have to wait.

“You hated your life. Hated being a nobody. Nothing more than a wife to a poor farmer. And more than anything, you hated me. So you took your empty, unearned power — ”

“ Unearned? ” Her mother hissed. “I earned it through blood and guile and pain like you couldn’t even imagine.”

Mistake number one: anger and pride. They made the Athena just as vulnerable as Annabeth in that moment.

The Athena might have taken over the Scholar City, but she hadn’t been raised in it. Hadn’t learned to control herself or disconnect from her emotions at a young age, the way all of her priestesses had.

Annabeth would see just how far she could push her mother’s control until she snapped.

“Are you sure, Mother? Because your illicit dealings with the God of the Underworld sound like a lot like sorcery –"

The Athena’s hand, dagger and all, met the side of Annabeth’s face with a dull thud, snapping her head violently to the side. So familiar. So, so predictable.

Honestly, their lack of ingenuity was astounding.

Her mouth filled with the copper tang of blood.

She spat it out, and continued, her head bowed, but her voice undiminished.

“ Sorcery is what got you your title, Mother. And then you took me, your deepest and most shameful secret – the thing you hated most in the world –  and you tried to swallow me whole.”

Did her mother learn nothing from the stories of their ancestors? Ouranos fell, and Kronos, too, and so would the Athena.

The story never changed. Every step the Athena had taken to ensure her victory would lead to her demise.

“I gave you the life you deserved!”

Ah. There it was: the admission Annabeth had been hoping for.

She could feel the temple guards at her back her beginning to waver.

A hand pulled at her hair, dragging her head back up and positioning the silver dagger just below her chin.

“Free from the constraints of mortal men. Free from the pains and shackles of motherhood. I gave you a life of knowledge! Of power.”

“You didn’t give me the life I deserved,” Annabeth slurred around her split lip.

“Was your ivory tower not to your liking?” The Athena sneered, her lip curling over her teeth like a wolf out for blood. “Was there not enough food at your table? Did you deserve more books? More clothes? More trinkets?”

“I deserved to be loved .”

The Athena’s face went ashen, and then she laughed, an unhinged sort of choking sound.

“Loved? And you think these pirates know how to love their fellow Greeks?”

“Maybe not. But they know how to love me .”

She saw the murderous glint rise in her mother’s eyes and wondered if she had just dug her own grave.

No.

Worse.

Infinitely worse.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much. I suppose they are of more use to me dead and dying, then.”

She turned to her men at arms.

“Kill the crew. Do it slowly. Make her wa—”

A cannon boomed from the distance and caught the edge of the very farthest temple ship. The hull shattered into splinters, and the ship began to lilt as she took on water.

They were coming from the south:

Dozens of ships – their green and blue flags, emblazoned with a golden trident and snapping sharply against the wind – had crested the horizon like a swarm of locusts and were speeding towards the Athena’s comparatively meager armada.

More shots rang out, but the cannons missed this time— crashing into the waters below and sending shockwaves that rocked the Argo and destabilized the soldiers.

“ Down! ” She heard her captain scream. “ Get down!”

An Aenean soldier bellowed command for their troops: “Abandon ship!”

Annabeth supposed loyalty could not be bought, could it? They had no ties to the Athena except for the money she paid them; they owed her no honor.

There was a snap of bone and a scream of pain from somewhere to her left.  A heavy weight hit Annabeth from behind, forcing her onto her knees with a painful smack, then onto her stomach; then the weight moved to cover her body, spreading out like a shield above her.

“Stay down,” Percy rasped into Annabeth’s ear. He was mumbling something. A prayer? She caught the name of the God of the Underworld, the name of the Goddess Brizo.

An instant later the Pirate King was within range, and he wasted no time in setting the temple ships alight.

Shrapnel exploded into the air, and there were screams of pain as sharp, deadly debris cut into the exposed skin of the temple guards who had been too slow to react.

Her mother shrieked, falling flat to the ground, her personal circle of protection taking the brunt of the explosions for her.

She heard Percy’s hiss of pain in her ear as he used his unarmored body to shield her from the worst of it, and she began to whisper her own liturgy of prayers.

If the Pirate King’s aim was careless, he would kill them all just to bring down his enemy.

Please, Brizo. Please. Don’t let his aim be careless.

When the explosions ended, there was a moment of calm.

Who was dead? Her mind screamed at her. Which members of her family had survived?

And then there was a rippling wave of sheer panic.

“Hold!” Called the captain of the guards, but it was too late. His remaining men, their fellows and their faith both torn to ribbons, were already beginning to abandon the Argo, jumping into the ocean below in an attempt to escape the wrath of the Pirate King.

Better to survive with shame than die at his hands.

Those who didn’t jump were slaughtered by the Argo crew, who took hold of their newfound advantage in seconds.

Alive.

Her heart thrummed as she cataloged their faces.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

In the midst of the chaos, the Athena came up on her knees and refocused her wrath on Annabeth and Percy. Once again, she raised her dagger.

If I go, her gray eyes said, you go with me.

Percy’s bleeding body tightened around her. The Athena’s blade would have to cut through him to get to Annabeth.

But then those gray eyes went blank and still. A trickle of blood protruded from her lips; the tip of a sword protruded from her throat.

“Don’t look, love,” Percy gasped. “Don’t look. Don’t look.”

But she couldn’t pull her gaze away.

There was a sucking noise and a wet thwack as a sword met the side of the Athena's neck with brutal efficiency.

Once, twice, a third time – and her mother’s head fell to the deck with a thud.

Her body crumpled, twitched once, and then went still.

Annabeth was going to be sick. She was going to—

No. No, because Percy was still breathing behind her. She counted his ragged breaths until the nausea faded.

Sally picked the glassy-eyed skull up by its strands of bloody, blond hair and regarded it coolly before tossing it aside.

She looked so much like her son in that moment that Annabeth nearly laughed.

There was something very wrong with Annabeth, it seemed.

Percy rolled off of her with a groan, then, staggering, hefted himself up and pulled her to her feet before tilting her chin and checking her over. His face was a mass of purple bruises. His lip split. His eye swelling.

“Your head?” he croaked.

“Is fine.”

He was holding his left arm at an awkward angle. His shoulder looked dislocated.

His eyes went to his mother, and they shared a tight-lipped, wordless exchange.

Sally turned to the Captain of the temple guards, one of only about ten Athenians left on the ship.

“I suggest you run while you still can,” she purred.

The man looked at the decapitated body of his Priestess, then to Sally, then to the remains of his ruined fleet and the still encroaching fleet of pirate ships.

It took him very little time to turn tail and run in the direction of the nearest lifeboat.

Neither he nor his men ever reached it.

Chapter 32

Chapter Notes

Content Warning: Mentions of torture. Also angry sex. Rough, angry sex.

It turned out that Percy’s father was utterly insane.

Although they looked very similar, the man had twice the arrogance of his son and half the charm.

He’d come in like some figure in a great, dramatic painting, standing perched on the bowsprit of his ship, the wind flapping his coat behind him. Then he’d hopped onto the prow of the Argo, taken one sweeping look around their shredded ship, and let out a low whistle.

“I’m afraid she’s not going to be seaworthy anytime soon, son. I’ll give you one of mine. A starter ship. So long as you let me keep the head.”

Percy had looked at Annabeth.

The… head?

As in …her mother’s head?

She stared at the Pirate King. Waiting for him to explain that he was making a terrible, unfunny joke. But he just looked at her and his son with good-natured expectation.

Annabeth, deciding she would do whatever was needed to get her family back to the safety of Ogygia, nodded – a jerky, mechanical movement. And Percy had accepted his father’s offer, although the pain in his features sharpened as he did so.

He didn’t want to be beholden to the man, she supposed.

At Percy’s insistence, The Pirate King’s huge, dark-wood ship pulled the much smaller Argo II through the bubble that separated Calypso’s island from the outside world. Then The Pirate King ordered his deckhands to take them to the shores of Ogygia while the rest of his crew plundered the temple ships’ remains for whatever riches they could find.

“You’re all very welcome,” the Pirate King said to nobody in particular.

His general demeanor of magnanimity made Annabeth wonder if he thought he really was a god.

He’d been miffed to learn of Sally’s recent nuptials, insisting that being married didn’t have to put a damper on their celebrations. He went so far as to imply that there was room for Calypso in his bed as well.

But, at Sally’s withering sneer, he had finally shrugged it off.

“Could I at least meet this wife of yours?”

“No.”

“Could I put my big toe on the sands of her pretty beaches?”

“Not if you want to keep your legs.”

“Alright, alright. Gods below, Little Lady Blue, You’re still just as terrifying as you ever were, you know that?”

Something affectionate flashed in the man’s eyes as he rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully. Annabeth’s dislike softened infinitesimally. She couldn’t hate anyone who loved Sally. Not entirely, anyways.

“I’ll just have to be content with the fact that my heroic efforts to save our offspring have rid my seas of so much scholar scum. Even if I don’t get to reward myself with a night between your thighs.”

“You nearly killed our son with your efforts,” Sally said flatly.

“Ah, the boy's fine. Just a bit scratched up. Isn’t that right?”

“Sure,” Percy spat, echoing his mother’s tone exactly.

“See? He’s a tough one. Gets that from his dad, you know?”

Annabeth bit back her scoff. Sally did not. The Pirate King grinned at his former lover.

Then man gave his son a brief, distracted pat on the shoulder. His wounded shoulder. Annabeth nearly stabbed him for the slight, but when she shifted her weight towards his father, Percy gripped her hand tightly in warning.

“Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. We’ll make a pirate of you yet.”

And, with that, he and his deckhands left, taking the Athena’s head with them.

Percy refused to let go of Annabeth as she and Calypso tended to everyone’s wounds.

He also refused to say a single word to her.

She could practically taste his anger on her tongue – thick and sour and smokey. Like bad wine and burned bridges.

That was fine. She was just as furious with him as he was with her.

Luckily, there were stitches aplenty to give. And several bones to set, Will’s included.

All of the fingers in his right hand had been snapped; Annabeth did her best not to sob over the purpling skin of his hand as she began the careful process of mending his broken digits.

Nico hovered anxiously beside him – refusing to let anyone tend to his own wounds until Will’s were seen to.

“I’m so sorry,” Will whispered against the crown of her hair as she worked.

She tried to reassure him of her forgiveness as best she could — tried to mean it and to shove down the emotions clouding her ability to maintain the professionalism needed for successful healing work.

She knew how he had gotten these broken bones, after all. Knew they would have broken his fingers one at a time – one for each question he refused to answer regarding her whereabouts.

Then there were dislocated joints to realign, and bruises to tend, and salves to apply, and potions to dole out.

The healing water from her pool was nothing short of a miracle.

“See? This is better than anything man-made,” the nymph said, with an undercurrent of pride in her tone. “Although what I wouldn’t give for some ambrosia.”

And she was right. The results of Will’s magic salves paled in comparison to the mending done by Calypso’s water.

Their skin knit itself back together wherever the waters touched. Will’s fingers looked significantly less heartwrenching after she’d dipped them several times into a bucket of spring water.

Grover had to be carried up to the pool by Sally and Reyna so that he could be fully submerged.

“My boy,” Sally murmured as she laid him out on Leo’s makeshift stretcher. “My brave, brave boy.”

The Athena and her forces had made the mistake of assuming a Satyr would be easy to break. But Grover, ever loyal, ever steadfast, hadn’t yielded so much as a millimeter when they interrogated him.

When they returned hale and whole, Percy had just about collapsed in on himself with relief, cradling his head in his trembling hands, his shoulders slumped and skin stretched tight across his mass of wounds.

Annabeth pulled the shards of glass and wood from Percy’s shredded back as delicately as she possibly could. Then she washed him over – twice – and, for good measure, layered a thick helping of salve along the pink scars that remained.

The tattoos across his arms and shoulders would need to be redone.

She traced her fingers over the scars.

He had covered her body with his own. Weaponless, injured, beaten, and outnumbered, he had given her every measure of protection he possibly could.

But he had also betrayed her in one of the most painful ways she could ever be betrayed.

When, finally, the entire crew had been mended as thoroughly as possible and sent back to their cabins to rest, Annabeth let out a relieved sigh.

“Right. That’s everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Percy growled. “Sit.”

She didn’t argue, and let him tend to her own injuries. Minor in comparison to everyone else’s — a bruised cheek, a split lip, a few cuts from the glass, and the bullet graze on her shoulder.

Percy had kept the worst of it from touching her.

His fingers were gentle while he worked, even as his face remained pinched into a tight scowl.

She kept to her vow of rageful silence as he carefully stitched the skin of her deepest cuts. Each time her eyes flitted to his face, she forced them away. It hurt to look at him.

Then, still steeped in boiling resentment, they went to the pool and bathed the blood from their limbs and hair perfunctorily, letting the waters heal the rest of what could be healed.

It didn’t touch the deepest sources of her pain, though. No, it would do nothing for that.

They returned to their cabin wrapped in nothing but old linens– too tired to bother dressing again.

“Do you want me to sleep outside?” He asked.

“No,” she replied.

And then she fell asleep in cold, stony silence. Percy’s eyes didn’t move from her face.

She screamed herself awake, and as she broke the surface of her nightmare, she felt his arms around her.  She let herself seek comfort in his hold until the shuddering stopped.

Then Annabeth wrenched herself away from him and buried herself into her blankets.

“Don’t,” she rasped. “Don’t.”

She wasn’t sure what she was asking for. Please don’t let me go, maybe? Or please don’t touch me, I can’t stand it?

Both.

Both.

Sleep didn’t come again.

The next day passed in much the same way.

They washed in the healing waters of the pool and tended their wounds. She picked at the breakfast Calypso gave her.

Then Annabeth checked on Grover’s injuries and spent several hours sitting quietly with the brave Satyr, recounting her favorite childhood fables to keep him occupied as his body healed from its internal injuries.

Afterwards, she inspected Will’s fingers, sending up a prayer of gratitude that they were healing correctly, and she wouldn’t have to rebreak them. The thought alone made her want to vomit. She spent an hour or so dousing them in Calypso’s waters before she rubbed them with healing salve, set the splints, and rebandaged his hand.

It would take a few weeks to fully mend. But it would mend, nonetheless.

Percy followed her like some dark shadow. Quiet and protective and furious . Never letting her step more than a few feet from his sight.

She understood why.

She didn’t begrudge him the need to know she was safe, not when she needed it just as much. But she didn’t talk to him, either. Although she found herself reaching for him once or twice before she realized what she was doing and wrenched her hand back.

She felt so brittle. As if… one wrong step, one wrong breath, and she would shatter. If she let him touch her, she might just fall apart.

She might lose control.

And when she had finished seeing to Grover and to Will, she shut herself into their shelter and didn’t move from their bed for the rest of the day.

He sat outside until nightfall, his face rippling with pain when she rejected his silent offer of food.

She wasn’t hungry.

Not yet. Not when all she could see was the Argo growing smaller in the distance as Frank rowed her away. Not when she could still hear the sound of her mother’s head falling to the ground.  Not when she could still see him on his knees, still feel the way his body had bled above her as he shielded her from his own father’s carelessness.

The cycle repeated itself again the next day.

She spoke haltingly to her crewmates. Scars still too delicate, still too sore to let down her walls all the way.

She couldn’t look at Nico or Jason in the eyes, because every time she did, she felt as if she were looking at them from far, far below.

“Annabeth,” Will whispered, and she clutched at his uninjured hand like it was a lifeline. “Annabeth, you have to talk to him.”

Will’s eyes flicked to where Percy stood in the distance, giving Annabeth as much space as he was physically capable of putting between them.

“He’s desperate. You’re miserable. You need to talk to each other.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted. “And I’m scared of what will happen when I do.”

Brittle.

So, so brittle.

The next day, she had lunch with Sally and Calypso as Percy waited outside their cottage door. Sally held her as she wept.

Was she wrong to be relieved? Was she wrong to be grief-stricken? Was she wrong to be so angry?

“No,” Sally whispered as she stroked Annabeth’s hair. “No, darling girl. Nothing you feel is wrong. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

When she stepped back outside, feeling a little lighter than she had just the hour before, she saw how Percy’s hands trembled and clenched into fists at his sides – saw the tear tracks on his cheeks that matched her own.

“Annabeth,” he began, and she could hear it in his voice that he would beg. And if he begged, she would fold. So she kept her head high and wrapped her pride around her like a shield and pretended not to even notice him.

Only she did notice.

She noticed the hitch in his breathing. The sound of pain.

As if she’d struck him.

He reached his limit before she did.

As night fell on their third day of painful silence, he burst into their cabin, his eyes wide and frenzied, like some kind of cornered animal. They roved over her – she was naked, in the process of putting on fresh clothes to sleep in.

“Annabeth,” he growled, laying another plate of food beside the entrance of their shelter.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, you’re fucking going to hear it. You don’t just get to ignore me — ”

His words cut off as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his with all the ferocity of the anger she felt eating away at her ribs. He kissed her back with equal vehemence, caging her against the wall as he delved his tongue into her mouth.

It was painful.

It was rageful.

It was worth it.

Her hands scrabbled desperately at his shirt. If she was bare, then he would be, too. And she would have him. She would have him now.

“You can have me. You can have all of me. Take whatever you need.”

Had she said that aloud? She must have.

His hands were better than hers at undressing him, and he was naked within seconds. She returned her lips to his and demanded with teeth and tongue and gripping nails.

But he pulled back and held her still.

“Slow down, love. You’re going to hurt yourself –”

She wasn’t having it.

“Get on the bed,” she demanded. He blinked at her.  “Get. On. The. Bed , Percy. I won’t ask again.”

He obeyed, slowly, watching her with cautious eyes as he lay down on his back for her. She straddled him, grabbing the base of his already hard cock before she put the tip of him against her center and pushed herself down.

She wasn’t really wet enough to take him comfortably yet, but she wouldn’t let that stop her.

“You’re not ready for me,” he murmured. “Let me get you ready. Please, love. Please. It’s going to hurt.”

“ No,” she hissed – all venom, all spite.

He was right; it stung and it stretched, but it still hurt less than the bitterness sawing at her heart.

Anguish and anger warred in his eyes as she winced around his cock.

It wasn’t pleasant to fuck him like this, but she didn’t want or need pleasant right now.

No.

She needed control.

Because as much as she wanted to let him touch her and coax her towards pleasure in the ways he knew she loved, it would make her want to yield to him, and Annabeth refused to submit.

Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed as she began to move her hips. She leaned backwards, angling her pelvis so that his cock hit her just right, and threw her head back with abandon.

When his tattooed hands came up to caress her, she slapped them away.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You don’t get to touch me.”

He bared his teeth at her but obeyed, watching with jealous, ravenous eyes as she pleasured herself with her own fingers.

“Put your hands above your head.”

He did. Slowly. And the dangerous glint in his eyes sharpened as he complied.

Gods, he was beautiful. The lithe muscles of his body were just made for her to admire. She let herself drink in the sight of him.

She was skilled at playing her strings, and it wasn’t long before she was panting – nearing the edge of her release.

“I’m so fucking furious with you,” she snapped as she rode him, used him the way she wanted.

“I know,” he hissed through bared teeth. His hands clenched into fists like he was straining to keep them still.

“You–” her voice broke, and once again she had to slap his hand away as he reached for her with tender, searching fingers.

“You sent me away .”

It came out more pitiful than angry.

This time, more softly: “I know.”

She couldn’t handle the empathy in his tone. It would break her.

“And you would do it again .”

She moved her hand from his throat to his thigh and dug her nails into his skin, daring him to disagree with her, daring him to tell her some sweet lie that would soften her edges for him.

Her breath was growing faster, and she couldn’t bite back the whimpers that were beginning to form at the base of her throat.

“I would.”

If she didn’t come soon, she would melt for him. She knew it. The longer she let herself be filled by him, the less control she would have over the situation.

Her fingers sped up – now. She needed to get there now before she lost the upper hand.

She circled her clit with just enough pressure to throw herself over the edge with an anticlimactic shudder.

There.

Done.

She stilled her movements and caught her breath.

The orgasm wasn’t as physically satisfying as the ones she had when she let him take charge, but she had needed it, nonetheless.

And now it was done, and she would go to sleep. And in the morning she would… do something. She didn’t know what.

Forgive him? Apologize? Force him to kiss the ground at her feet? Beg him on her knees to never do that to her again?

Continue ignoring him as she nurtured the bitterness in her prideful, wounded heart?

She made to push herself off of him, but his hands gripped firmly at her hips, holding her down and moving her steadily against him.

She immediately felt herself getting wetter under his hold, and, without her say-so, her muscles softened for him, making her pliant in his grip.

“My turn,” he growled. And his arm came around her back; his palm pressed between her shoulder blades. In one fluid movement, he flipped them so that he was above her, his hips nestled resolutely between her thighs.

Percy’s hands went to her knees and spread her open, pressing her legs into the mattress and pinning her beneath him.

“Wrap your arms around me.”

When she obeyed, he began to fuck into her with quick, brutal thrusts.

“I’m furious with you, too,” he snarled into her ear.

“I kno-ow,” she gasped. Choking out her response through the onslaught of fullness.

“You told me –”

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous register he usually only reserved for doling out threats.

“To hand you over. As if that was a fucking option.”

He punctuated his furious words with equally frenzied thrusts of his hips that made her whimper and cry out with little, broken, plaintive sounds.

“As if you thought I would even consider it .”

And the way he said it – like it was the worst offense she could possibly have committed…

Well, what was there to say to that?

Because it was. To him, it was. She had hurt him so very deeply.

“And then, y ou put yourself in danger . That woman got her hands on you.”

She tried to reply, but the only sound she could make was a moan.

“And you would do it again.”

“I w-would,” she finally managed, but just barely.

The enraged sound that fell from his lips was nearly inhuman.

He slipped out of her, and she was so empty, too empty .

“No!” She wailed, trying to claw him back to her with her grasping hands. “Please please please! Don’t go! Please don’t go!”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

With careful, quick movements, he turned her onto her stomach before he covered her entirely and pressed her body into the mattress with the heavy weight of his own. He caught her wrists and brought them above her head, drove his knees between hers so that she couldn’t even attempt to close her legs, and plunged his cock inside her, making her scream into the mattress.

“Do you forgive me?”

“No,” she spat.

His free hand wrapped gently around the front of her throat and he tilted her head back until she was forced to look up at him. For a brief second, his lips brushed so, so softly – so reverently against her hairline.

“Do you– ah!” A particularly punishing thrust ripped a gasp from her throat and broke her question in two “– forgive me ?”

“No. ”

It hurt to hear that. This man who had offered his forgiveness so easily and so often – she had pushed him farther than he was willing to take. She could feel it in every brutal snap of his hips.

“Will you?” she gasped, and her question was utterly desperate.

“Yes,” he replied, just as fervently.

And then, “Are you still mine? Forgiveness or not? Are you still mine?” He asked.

“ Yes!”

“Thank the gods,” he rasped. “Take my come, love. Take what I give that pretty little cunt.”

She angled her hips up so that he could press even farther into her core, and was rewarded with his groan of pleasure and the feeling of his release spilling deep inside of her.

She had thought that would be the end of it, but in moments, he was maneuvering her until she sat propped against his chest.

“Percy, I already –”

“I know what you feel like when you come, sweetheart. I don’t know what that pathetic thing was earlier, but I do know that it wasn’t enough for you. And I’m not leaving you unsatisfied.”

Annabeth didn’t want to want that.

Didn’t want to acknowledge the way her heart and her body responded to his words with a scorching wave of need.

“Are you gonna tell me no, honey? You want me to stop?”

She shook her head, even as she tried to clamp her legs shut, and he bit down on her neck in warning until she relaxed her limbs.

“You’re gonna keep those legs spread for me, Annabeth,” he commanded, his voice rough and rusted in her ear.

She opened them just a fraction.

“Wider.”

She obeyed, sinking into his chest and widening her thighs.

“More.”

When she didn’t move quickly enough, he growled, then cupped his hands under her thighs, lifting her legs up over his own raised knees.

“Put your hands around me.”

She did so, wending her arms up behind his neck.

His right hand traveled between her legs, stopping briefly to brush her nipples and caress her lower stomach.

His fingers stroked gently at her clit, making her hitch out a moan, before dipping inside her.

Then, in a low growl, he said:

“You ever even think about trying to take my cock before you’re ready for it again, and I’ll bend you over my knee and turn your pretty little ass bright red.”

She felt her walls clench around him, and she had to bite back her desperate groan. It didn’t matter; he would be able to feel just what that image did to her.

He didn’t wait to hear what she would say. His thumb began to stroke her clit relentlessly as his fingers pressed as deep inside as they could possibly go,  making her hips writhe and her body melt.

It took him only a few minutes to work her deftly to the edge.

“I want to feel you clench around my fingers. Want you to fall apart for me while my come is deep inside this cunt. Do you want that, love?”

“ Yes!”

“Good girl. You know why you want that?”

She moaned, and it sounded vaguely like the word why .

“Because this cunt belongs to me. Your body, your fucking heart, all of you; you belong to me. You know it. I know it. You’re fucking mine . You understand me?”

She wailed something incomprehensible.

“I said, do you understand me, Annabeth?”

“Yes!”

“You know who gets to put what’s mine at risk?”

Again, a sob with very few real words wrenched free from her mouth.

“ Nobody. Fucking nobody, love. Nobody puts what’s mine in danger. Not ever. ”

She was close. She was so, so close.

“Say it, Annabeth. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Percy! You! I belong to you!”

His hand tightened around her neck.

“Again.”

“I belong to you!”

And then she was plummeting, tumbling over the edge so quickly and so violently that she stopped breathing altogether.

“That’s it. Good girl. Come apart for me, sweetheart.”

The moment the wave receded, Annabeth was turning in his arms, scrabbling desperately for purchase as she wrapped herself around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He pulled her into his lap and began to rock them back and forth, clinging to her just as tightly as she was clinging to him.

She wasn’t sure who apologized first, but one of them opened the floodgates.

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m so fucking sorry, love. I’m so fucking, gods damned, sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to get hurt and hurt you and I’m sorry, Percy! I’m so sorry I told you to hand me over to them and then I got hurt and— ”

“No, honey. No. Love, love; it was my fault. It was all my fault, sweetheart. Don’t cry, honey. Oh, gods, please don’t cry. Not over me. Never for me.”

“I broke your trust —”

“You did the right thing, sweet girl. You did the right thing. I was just so fucking scared, love. So scared, I was so scared.”

“Me, too.”

“I couldn’t lose you and the thought of her taking you – and I’ll never – I can never –”

“You kept me safe. I would have — she would have— It was my mother, and if you hadn’t – she was coming after me – ”

“Not your fault, love. Shhhh. Not your fault. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Percy. I’m so– I’m so sorry –”

“We’ll be alright. Please don’t cry love. Please, I can’t stand it.”

They held tight to one another as the flood passed through them – chest to chest – with bruising, trembling grips; like two shipwreck survivors clinging to the only scrap of flotsam in the entirety of the wide and unforgiving ocean.

Eventually, they quieted and their breaths grew even and steady once more.

Percy’s hesitant voice broke the silence.

“Will you eat?” He asked. “My love, please. Please, will you eat something for me?”

She nodded into the crook of his neck and he let out a relieved sigh. Not letting her go, he went over to the plate of food, picked it up, and settled them back on the bed. He shifted her so that she sat sideways on his lap, and fed her bites of bread and cheese with the hand that wasn’t supporting her weight.

“I take it back,” she whispered through the rough edges of her throat when she had eaten her fill.

“Take what back, honey?”

“I forgive – I forgave you a while ago. I know why you did it. I was just so… so hurt. And I wanted to hurt you back.”

“I know, love. It’s alright. I’m alright.”

“But it’s not, ” she insisted. “Your heart is so precious to me, Percy. And I hurt it. I’ve been so cruel to you.”

He cradled her head against him and pressed kiss after kiss to her temple and jaw. Her fingers curled just beneath his collarbone.

“It was justified. I deserved it.”

“No, it wasn’t! And I’ll – I’ll be more careful with your heart, Percy. I promise.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” he breathed. ”I don’t think I could survive that again.”

She didn’t ask him if he forgave her, too, but he whispered it into the curve of her jaw, nevertheless.

When they were ready to sleep, Annabeth climbed on top of Percy as if he were a mattress in and of himself. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest, and breathed in the scent of her hair as she listened to the steady beating of his heart.

There would be more apologies to make in the morning. There would be more tears to cry. More grief to wade through. More horror and fear to process.

But for the time being, all that could wait. Right now, they simply needed rest and each other.

Chapter 33

Chapter Notes

Can you believe it? Just the epilogue left. I'm going to miss writing this so, so much. You've all been so wonderful and lovely and good to me.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading and enjoying my silly little story.

When he woke in the night with a hoarse and plaintive cry of despair, her name on his lips, Annabeth held him until he stopped shaking.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

And when, two hours later, she couldn’t hold back the fear that he had disappeared into the pitch-black darkness, he gathered her edges together and hushed her whimpers until her eyes fluttered shut again.

“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

They both rose at dawn, unable to even try to pretend they could sleep anymore. And they were painfully gentle with one another as they got ready for the long day ahead. Every look, every gesture, every touch was an apology and a promise of forgiveness.

Percy brushed and tied back her hair. Annabeth checked the scars along his back with shaking fingers. He cradled her right hand in both of his, bent his head low, and pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles.

They dressed one another with care and then left the too-close cabin in favor of the salt-heavy, misty morning air.

Percy stayed by her side as she wandered aimlessly along the beach, his face turning ghostly pale any time her skin wasn’t touching his. But he didn’t demand anything more from her than her presence – just the ability to know that she was still here, still with him.

He gave her what she needed, and she finally felt safe enough to think through everything that had happened.

Her mother was dead. And the world would see it as nothing more than retaliation from the Pirate King.

She would be out of danger, for the time being. And so would her family.  The thought made a strange combination of relief, guilt, and grief squeeze her throat shut.

Annabeth reached for Percy, and his arms came around her.

She hadn’t wanted this.

She had wanted…

She had hoped…

“I wish my mother had decided to love me, in the end,” she whispered. It was the first thing either one of them had said yet that morning. “Or if she couldn’t bring herself to love me, or at least just...”

She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Because really, what she wanted, what she had always wanted, was just for her mother to want her, too.

Percy hunched his body around hers protectively.

“You are so easy to love, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It was her flaws, not yours that made her that way. And it was her loss. Because loving you is like breathing.”

She let herself be held for a little while longer before she slipped out of his embrace and pulled him towards the gently lapping waves. The water was sharply cold against her toes, and welcome.

“You don’t believe me?” He finally asked.

Annabeth shrugged. He loved easily. It was one of the things she adored most about him – his capacity for affection. She told him as much.

His hand came to her chin and he tilted her face up towards him.

Above them, the clouds began to release clear pebbles of rain. The droplets felt soothing on her face.

“Annabeth, you’re a magnet for love. See? See how the wind wants to be in your hair? See how the ocean hangs on to your feet? See how the raindrops kiss your cheeks? The world loves you, Annabeth.”

What a nonsensical thing to say.

What a beautiful thing to say.

Who would have thought it? Her pirate, a poet.

“I know it’s hard to believe right now. But just give it time. You’ll see, Wise Girl.”

“Just how much time, Percy?”

“All the days of my life, if you’ll have me. And whatever time I get after. And if I’m gone before you, I’ll still find ways to remind you.”

Annabeth felt her lips twitch into a tentative smile – her first one in days. Percy’s eyes honed in on the small flicker of movement, and something like resolve flashed in his eyes.

“Promise?” She asked.

“Promise. Anything you want, sweetheart. I’ll be the ocean at your feet. I’ll be the wind in your hair.”

He then proceeded to blow a loud, very unpoetic raspberry against her right ear, startling an equally inelegant snort of laughter from Annabeth.

He cataloged that laugh, and the determination in his eyes doubled.

“I’ll be the rain. Watch how good I am at kissing your cheeks. These raindrops have nothing on me.”

He pressed quick, ticklish kisses along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she couldn’t suppress the silvery squeals that spilled from her lips. He kept up the kisses until her cheeks were sore from smiling and she was breathless from giggling.

“See?” He said softly as he pulled back, satisfaction warming his voice as he rubbed his nose against hers. “I’m just the man for the job.”

Annabeth looked up at him – forcing the walls around her heart down and trying to put every ounce of emotion she possibly could into her gaze.

“I love you.”

Could he see it?  Could he see just how much she meant it? With every fiber of her soul?

His echoing smile made the edges of his eyes crinkle with affection.

“I love you, too, my Annabeth.”

Her hands reached up to cradle his face, and his eyes fluttered shut at her touch as he leaned into her. She gently stroked the stubble along his jaw with her thumbs.

“Will you love me even when I’m angry?” She asked. “Even when I’m sad?”

“Yes,” he said, serious as anything.

“Even when it’s difficult to love me?”

“If that ever happens,” he said skeptically. “I hope you know that being angry or sad doesn’t make you difficult to love.”

Then his eyes opened, and he fixed her with a plaintive, serious look. “And you, honey?”

“And me? I’ll love you, too, Percy. I’ll love you always. Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

He grinned but shook his head.

“I know that. I’m a very lovable guy. What I mean is, will you love yourself? ”

Ah.

Good question.

“I’ll try.”

And then she reached up to pull his mouth down to hers. He acquiesced easily, meeting her questing mouth with his own.

His tongue pressed to the seam of her lips. She stepped in closer to the circle of his arms and opened her mouth for him —

They were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Get a room!”

Annabeth and Percy both made a vulgar gesture in Will’s general direction at exactly the same moment.

Will and Nico (who clearly hadn’t slept at all) came to stand beside them, and Reyna joined them soon after. She looked concernedly over Nico’s drawn features and ordered him to lie down.

When he protested, she put a hand on his slumped shoulders.

“I’ll watch over them,” Reyna told him. “Get some rest.”

Will gave her a grateful look as Nico reluctantly, exhaustedly, allowed the blond to cradle his shadow-dark head in his lap.

The group’s low chatter slowly attracted more and more stragglers from their own respective sleepless nights until all eleven members of the Argo crew were milling about on the beach together.

Even Grover, helped along by Piper and Jason, made his way to sit by the water. The sight of him back on his feet relit a little spark of hope in Annabeth’s stomach. His eyes flitted between Percy and Annabeth, landing first on their intertwined fingers and then on the intimate tilt of their heads towards one another, and he beamed. All the tension seemed to melt off his shoulders at the sight of their closeness.

Some of the crew skipped rocks; some of them monitored the open water; some of them finally, finally found a moment to rest now that they knew they could do so safely under the watchful eyes of their friends.

Frank approached Percy and Annabeth tentatively at Hazel’s prodding.

“I know I let you both down –” he began, but his words cut off as Annabeth threw herself into his arms.

“You could never,” she whispered, and Frank’s torso relaxed around her. “I’m sorry I – I know you were trying to do the right thing. It was impossible. It was – you did what you had to do.”

He shuddered, and she felt a tear drop onto the crown of her head.

When she pulled away, Percy took her place, holding his friend tightly against him, and Annabeth was pulled into Hazel’s arms. She breathed in the scent of her sister’s sweet-smelling hair with deep, gulping breaths.

It was all a bit of a blur after that.

Apologies and forgiveness. Love and love and love. Both given and received.

Her family was alive, and so was she. All other hurts could be mended.

Two weeks later, their second round of goodbyes was harder than the first.

For a little while, Sally had been close to coming with them. Unwilling to let her children leave without her a second time, because…. what if?

What if ?

“The world is full of ‘what ifs,’ Sally,” Leo said, sagely. “You can’t let them keep you from happiness. Also, we love you, but there’s no room. This hunk of junk Percy’s dad gave us is fine enough for now, but she’s still only like… half the size of the Argo.”

He wasn’t wrong. On both counts.

It was a good thing they still had those bags of gold drachma. Both the drachma and the clam-compass had survived the attack, well hidden beneath and between the sacks of dirt that Grover used for his garden.

Calypso had been trembling as he said it – vibrating with how hard she was trying not to be selfish and beg her wife to stay. When Sally had conceded Leo’s point, the nymph had nearly collapsed in relief. Jason had been at her side in an instant, holding her up with chivalrous care.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” Percy promised tearfully as he hugged Sally close. “A month or two, maybe? Would that be alright?”

“Yes, a month. Three months at the most , okay? I don’t ever want to have to go more than a few months without seeing you all ever again.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“I love you, baby,” Sally said as she cupped Percy’s palm and put a handful of blue candies into it.

“I love you, Mom.”

His voice was so hoarse it was barely a whisper.

Then Sally’s eyes went to Annabeth, and she slipped out of her son’s arms. Annabeth found her way into Sally’s embrace and rested her cheek on the woman’s shoulder with a sigh.

“If you ever need anything, Annie, you know where to find me,” she said. “You’re always welcome here, with or without my son. Okay?”

Annabeth nodded, a tremulous sob breaking out from behind the barrier of her lips.

“Come back and visit us, darling girl. I’ll miss you very much.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll miss–”

That was all Annabeth could manage before she couldn’t speak another word; Percy took her hand and pulled her into his chest, murmuring soft reassurances into her hair.

He looked over her head at his mother, and something wordless passed between them.

“May the wind be wild at your back, Percy. And the horizon always open ahead.”

Percy gave his mother a broad smile before leading Annabeth to their dinghy with a gentle tug. He helped her into the little boat and pushed it out into the water with one final, rueful look over his shoulder.

Then he was rowing, and the shore was getting smaller and smaller behind them. A figure in a pink dress clung to a figure in blue as they waved with enthusiastic abandon.

“Where to next, Wise Girl?” Percy asked as they stood at the helm together. She lifted her arm in his general direction, and his warm, calloused fingers grasped hers automatically.

She turned her cheek and looked out over the ocean, stretching her free hand to cup the horizon in her palm.

The world was at her fingertips. The vastness of the ocean spread out endlessly before her, beckoning, and she was free to follow.

Somewhere above their heads, a bird gave a sharp, echoing cry – and she felt as if it was calling out just to her.

“ This way,” the bird seemed to say. “Race me out past the wild waves and beyond what you can see.”

Something settled serenely in Annabeth’s stomach.

Peace, she realized. The feeling was peace.

I belong in the world , she thought. Then she looked over her family as they readied their new ship for her voyage. And I belong here with them.

Her eyes met Percy’s, his gaze brimming with love and adoration. She knew her expression was a mirror of his as she said, “Wherever Brizo takes us, Captain.”

Because it didn’t necessarily matter where they went next, did it?

No matter where they ended up, she would always be home.

Epilogue

Chapter Notes

Have I said thank you enough, yet? Not nearly enough.

Thank you, thank you, thank you <3 <3 <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For Percy Jackson— captain of the Argo III, son of Sally Jackson, stepson of Calypso, son of the Pirate King who called himself Poseidon, but whose name was probably something stupid like Ajax or Chad , and, most importantly, husband of Annabeth Jackson – life was split into two halves.

There was the before, and there was the after.

Before Annabeth, and after Annabeth.

Before he’d seen her in the Parthenon on that disgustingly hot and humid day all those years ago, and after.

Before he’d realized what her eyes looked like in the moonlight, and after.

Before he’d known the sound of her laugh and the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her love, and after.

Before he’d seen what she looked like as a bride; before he’d cried as he watched her walk towards him with that radiant smile on her face; before she’d let him tie his life to hers in front of all their family — and after.

And gods, he so much preferred the after.

Even if the after had him currently squatting in an alley that smelled like piss and rotten fish.

Percy watched Annabeth from the shadows, waiting for her signal and wanting nothing more than to bury his face in her hair to drive away the stench of anything that wasn’t her clean, mint and citrus smell.

But she would give him that disapproving look if he made a move before she told him to.

So he watched, and he waited, and he wondered what their daughters were doing with their grandmothers at that exact moment.

The pregnancy hadn’t been a surprise. Quite the opposite, actually.

One night, about three years after their wedding in Ogygia, Annabeth had turned to him with wide, determined eyes, and had announced that she wanted a baby.

And Percy? Well, Percy’s favorite thing was making sure his beautiful wife got whatever she wanted, and he saw to fulfilling her desire with fervent, feverish faithfulness.

So no, the surprise hadn’t been the pregnancy; the surprise had been the twins. Iris (named after both the goddess and his mother’s favorite flowers) and Brizo (self-explanatory) were both just as perfect as their mother. One dark-haired and gray-eyed, one blond with a bright green gaze.

Percy had sobbed the first time he’d seen their sweetly pinched faces – so irritated with the world for being too loud and too bright — the first time he’d felt the soft palms of their tiny hands, the delicate pads of their feet.

He’d sobbed as he bent to kiss his exhausted wife and shower her in praise and gratitude. The gratitude he had begun to feel the moment she’d allowed him to love her, and which only grew as their lives together continued, and which he could never express enough.

And as their daughters grew from babies, into toddlers, and then into tiny, terrifying, tornadoes of trouble on the deck of their beloved ship, he’d realized with equal parts dread and joy that they were just exactly like their mother — wildly smart and stubborn and funny.

Annabeth liked to pretend they got their sense of humor from him, but he knew better. Their wit – so sharp for people who were still so little – was their mother’s gift.

(They got their ability to charm their way out of trouble from him. Also? Their dislike of cabbage.)

He let his eyes trail over Annabeth’s shadowed figure, catching the flash of her profile in the lone streetlight that flickered above her head.

Even in the dim light of this dank side street, she was just as beautiful as she had been ten years ago.

She had the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes, now. Each one so perfect and precious, and he felt the sudden urge to kiss the lines that proved he could make her smile so brightly that her eyes creased at the edges.

Her hips had widened after the pregnancy and parts of her body had softened. She’d been upset by it for a little while, although her stubborn pride refused to let her admit it out loud.

But he’d seen it; seen the flash of dismay, the dissatisfied tilt of her head, the little sighs of disappointment that slipped out when she thought he wasn’t paying attention to her.

Pah.

He was always paying attention to her.

Percy had changed her mind, though. He had made her see herself through his eyes.

He loved nothing more than to press his cheek against that soft swell in her stomach, to hold the curve between her waist and hips in his palms, to lick those delicate indentations that stretched across her skin.

He turned those sighs of disappointment into soft little moans of pleasure, and then he ate them up like candy.

And when gentle coaxing couldn’t shake those thoughts from her mind? Well, a few firm smacks to her perfect ass and some time spent on her knees usually did the trick.

(“If you want to suck my cock, honey, you need to tell me how beautiful you are, first.”

“But Percy–”

“Ah-ah. Don’t fight me on this, love. Just do as I say.”

“I — I’m pretty.”

“Again. More convincingly, my love.”

“Fine. I’m beautiful.”

“That’s my girl.” )

She always sank so sweetly for him, her eyes would go wide and dreamy — those pretty pink lips opening just a fraction, as if she were surprised by it —

Skies, now was not the time to get hard.

Too late.

Think about Hades’ hairy ballsack. That ought to help.

Disturbingly? It did not.

Think about the fact that your wife needs you to focus in case this whole thing goes south and she’s left in a vulnerable position.

That did it.

The men she was meeting with only a few meters away had no idea that the Argo captains and their crew were the source of all their current problems.

The ships that disappeared without a trace? The bodies that were discovered washed up on beaches, usually castrated or torn in two?

That was all their doing.

Under Annabeth’s command, their crew became more than just pirates. Now, they were also a source of nightmares for slavers and traffickers across the entire Hellas Empire.

Annabeth and Nico had come up with the plan together. They were very good at fueling one another’s bloodlust.

Maybe too good.

Not that Percy minded. He loved the way she looked when she got Truthseeker under someone’s jaw.

It still shortened his lifespan by a few years each time she got anywhere near danger, but he was learning to trust her skills more than his fear.

“—tired of hearing your lies,” his Annabeth was saying.

Percy shot a glance up to where half of their crew waited on the roof of the buildings that bracketed the alleyway.

They watched the scene below with cool professionalism.

“You can talk a blue streak—”

Aha! Finally !

The signal.

Just then, a hand shot out and grabbed at Annabeth’s arm. Grubby, unworthy fingers were digging into the muscles of her bicep.

Percy’s vision went red at the edges, and everything in him cried out for blood.

“Listen, you little bitch—”

“Take your filthy hands off of my wife.”

The threat came out just the way he had intended— as cold and as deadly as the blade he now pressed into the skin of the man’s scruffy neck.

His narrowed, bloodshot eyes went to Percy and widened in fear. It would be impossible for him not to realize just who Percy was; he looked almost exactly like his father, after all.

Annabeth rolled her eyes at his theatrics, and Percy added her look to the running tally in his mind. That was four times tonight. He wanted to get this over with so that he could take her to their bed, bend her over, and reward her with a proper punishment for all that attitude.

The man’s fingers shook as he peeled them away from Annabeth, and the possessive little beast in Percy’s chest let out a satisfied purr.

That’s right.

She was his.

And this man had lost the right to keep breathing.

“Tell us what we want to know, and maybe I’ll let you live,” Percy lied.

The man’s equally scruffy henchmen pushed towards Percy and Annabeth from the shadows, but they were quickly cut down by the Argo crew – dropping on the unsuspecting sailors from the sloped roofs above.

The smell of piss grew stronger, something he figured would be nearly impossible.

But the world was full of surprises.

“Look – I – you don’t have to kill me! I’ll spill –  I don’t owe them anything!”

Pathetic.

The man’s wild eyes flashed from Annabeth to Percy, to the rest of their encroaching crew. He was a cornered animal, and he knew it.

“Go on, then. You can tell us. It’ll be alright.”

His wife used the soothing voice she had perfected during their daughters’ difficult, sleepless nights.

It was the kind of tone that pulled at people’s hearts, that told them they would be safe with her. That their secrets would be safe with her. And it was more effective than any threat Percy could have made.

The man told her exactly who he trafficked for, as well as the names of all their associates, and the heads of houses who funded their voyages.

It was a long list of heads that would roll, and Percy’s satisfaction warred with his disappointment — they would have to be away from the girls for a little while longer, then.

And, when they got back, Iris and Brizo would have been so thoroughly spoiled by their grandmothers that he would have to spoil them three times as much as usual just to catch up.

He’d have to finally give in to Iris’ demands and let her up into the rigging with her mother. And Brizo? Brizo would want another horse. (Her Auntie Hazel had been a very bad influence.) Or she would want to make something explode. (Her Uncle Leo was an even worse influence.)

Percy tried not to smile at the thought.

When the man had said all he could, he looked at Annabeth with desperate, pleading eyes.

“I have a family, you know?”

Annabeth scoffed.

“No, you don’t. Or we would already have taken them hostage.”

The man’s face turned a shade of green that made Percy grin with pride. His wife's sneer was terrible and fearsome and so, so beautiful.

It had made better men than this one cry at her feet.

(Himself included.)

“Can I, love?”

He didn’t really need her permission, but he knew she liked when he asked for it. And he liked it when the world at large knew just who held his leash.

Her eyes flashed to him and the sneer was replaced with a sly smile.

“You may ,” she said, in that prim little way she had, self-satisfied humor bubbling just underneath all those layers of sarcasm and sass. “Whether you can deliver or not, I have no idea.”

Five.

Gods, he was going to have so much fun with her tonight. He would get her soft and begging and coming undone in ways that only he ever got to see.

Maybe he’d even fuck her ass, just to make her blush, and squirm, and try to cover up how much she loved it by whimpering about how “ indecent” it was.

(Because gods forbid his wild little murderess ever do anything indecent. Oh, my. The scandal. )

He’d push her to the edge five times, one for each offense, and then he’d make her admit just how much she loved having him inside that tight little ring of muscle before he finally let her come.

She would hide her face in her pillow, and her fingers would curl up in the sheets, and her legs would kick as she whined and fell apart for him.

That’s all he was thinking about as he dragged Riptide across the man’s carotid.

“Not bad,” Nico drawled from beside them. “Ten down, seven more to go. Want to get a head start on that list tonight?”

Percy used his shirt to wipe away the blood coating Riptide’s gleaming edges and shook his head.

“Nah, We’ve got plans. You go for it, though.”

Annabeth quirked an eyebrow at him; her hands moved to rest on the swell of her hips as she leveled him with the look .

“Oh, we have plans, do we?”

Six.

You bet your pretty little ass, we do.

He tucked his fingers into her belt loops and tugged her hips flush against his so that she could feel just how busy they were going to be tonight.

“You sure you wanna—”

“Ugh. Enough with the foreplay, you insatiable monsters,” Piper said, waving her hand dismissively. “Just go away . We can handle a few more kills without you.”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He swung his indignant bride up into his arms and began the long walk back to their ship.

“Put me down!”

“Never.”

“Percy, with Hades as my witness —"

“Hush, honey. Before I decide I can’t wait and take you in a back alley.”

He wouldn’t really – Annabeth deserved better. And he wasn't about to risk some piece of shit catching a glimpse of his wife like that. But the threat made her groan and bury her face in his neck. He knew he’d won when her thighs began to rub against one another and her hips started shifting – just barely, but he caught it.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl. Already so desperate for me, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Her breath was hot on his neck, and then he felt a sting as she dug her teeth into his skin and sucked. Right on the spot where he’d had her name tattooed a few years ago.

(She’d pretended to think it was ridiculous when he showed it to her. But her eyes had gone all heavy-lidded, and her teeth had found her bottom lip, and then his possessive girl had proceeded to run her fingers across it over and over again like she was in some kind of trance.)

When she pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes were bright and feverish. He could almost taste the need that rippled off of her in waves. He would taste her need in just a few more minutes, but he was impatient for it.

He was getting too slow in his old age.

“You’re a barbaric, salacious, lascivious, crude man, you know that?”

“I do. Or at least I think I do. I know what about half those words mean.”

She sniffed.

“Oh yeah? Well, I love you. Did you know that, Seaweed Brain?”

“Really? Huh. That’s news to me.”

“Humph.”

She’d actually said the word. Just like that. Humph.

Gods, she was so fucking cute.

He was totally, ridiculously sincere when he said, “I love you too, Wise Girl.”  He just couldn’t help himself.

He’d loved her from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her in the Parthenon, after all — a secret only he and Hades knew, although he was sure Annabeth at least suspected.

And he always, always would.

Chapter End Notes

A few things before I go:

1. Please read T. Kingfisher's Paladin's Grace series, and all books within that universe (I'm currently reading Swordheart and I love it so much). Please. I beg of you. Do it. You'll thank me later.

2. Also, please read Of Swamp & Sea on Webtoons. Do it.

3. The Goblin has spoken:

I've started outlining a new fic. I'm taking a little break from Percabeth, partially because I've loved writing this version of them so much that I worry I'll never write another iteration of them that holds up in comparison.

So this is going to be a little Panville fluff. For anyone who wants to know why I would write a Pansy Parkinson / Neville Longbottom fic, go read Remember One Thing or A Dress with Pockets by Pacific Rimbaud. Or maybe don't, just so that if you ever decide to read mine, you'll not realize how lacking it is.

4. I can't say it enough: I've loved writing this with you all so much. You made me feel like such a part of a community. Thank you again and thank you always <3

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue