Seas Beyond Stars

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.” 

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?”

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.

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.” 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?”

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.”

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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.  

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. 

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 

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.