Tumgik
#percabeth angst
demigods-posts · 4 days
Text
need a scene change in season five where percy asks for kiss because it's kind of a tradition. but instead of annabeth not looking at him. she stops what she's doing and walks up to him. they're nose-to-nose. staring at each other. and annabeth almost looks aggravated. until she tells him to come back alive and he'll see. and percy stares deep into her eyes just nods. and then they part ways. and immediately start kicking ass on opposite ends of the battlefield. and the remaining campers are stunned. but quickly gather themselves to exchange drachma before fighting because they placed a bet on whether or not these two have kissed yet. and apparently.
1K notes · View notes
mysticalblue09 · 5 months
Text
Imagine for a sec with me. One day, Annabeth dies while defending a bunch of mortal children from a monster and, for the sake of this what if story, Percy doesn’t lose his shit and attacks the gods. He realizes he’s gonna see her again one day so he continues on living. Fast forward about 5 years and Percy dies in a drunk car accident (I can see the irony) and he ends up in hades. He goes through judgment and gets sent to Elysium. He gets there and immediately starts to look for Annabeth. He sees all these familiar faces. Jason, Beckondorf, Silena, Zoe, Bianca, and so on but he doesn’t see his wise girl. He figures she must be in the Isle of the Bliss because of course Annabeth is and he walks over to Bianca to ask her if he can talk to her dad about just visiting the Isle to see Annabeth. Bianca looks him in the eyes and says she’s not here. Percy is like ya I know she’s not here that’s why I want to go and see if she’s on the Isle. Bianca shakes her head and says Percy, she’s not there either, she’s not here in the underworld. Percy just stares at her, confused and asks if there was a mix up and she’s actually in the fields of asphodel. Bianca starts to tear up as his friend starts to form a circle around him and says, I don’t know how, but Annabeth Chase’s soul never made it down here into the underworld. And that’s when it hits him, Annabeth died with her knife in her hands. He remembers Magnus telling him how people ended up in Valhalla. Percy falls to his knees and starts to wail uncontrollably as he realizes that he’ll never get to hold Annabeth, his Wise Girl, ever again.
Cut back to 5 years ago to when Annabeth first wakes up after death. She’s confused at first but quickly realizes where she is after someone tells her welcome to Hotel Valhalla. It doesn’t bother her at first, thinking that with Percy’s luck, he’ll die like she did so she waits. She waits in the lobby for decades until one day, Magnus sits beside her and gently tells her that it's been over a century and that Percy wasn’t coming. Magnus looks over at her and sees the silent tears streaming down her face. Deep down, she’s known for a while but didn’t want to believe it. Magnus holds her as she cries louder into his shoulders, all the while, Annabeth is wondering to herself how can the fates be so cruel?
534 notes · View notes
Text
Two heartbreaking parralels in the riordanverse:
When Percy bathed in the Styx he saw Annabeth pull him out of the water, out of the pain he felt when he was in the river.She said: "You're not getting away from me that easily".That was the moment when Annabeth became Percy's life-line.
Fast-forward to HoH when Percy was hanging from that ledge when the fall happend he said "You're not getting away from...Never again",in that moment Percy also became Annabeth's life-line but in a more poetical way, but unlike Annabeth in the Styx, Percy couldn't pull Annabeth out of her pain, insted he went through the pain with her.
I'm crying.
1K notes · View notes
bluegreykim · 2 months
Text
sally's boy [post-tartarus, percabeth]
cw & tw for angst, ptsd, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy attachment
post hoo! sally's perspective.
sally doesn't know what to do with them, but she can't say anything. she turns a blind eye with an aching heart every time she hears the balcony door swing open in the middle of the night, annabeth's footsteps soft because she's trying not to be heard.
the first time she noticed it happened percy had been home for two days. it's three in the morning when she hears a muffled scream from her son's room, and she hurls herself out of bed, something primal welling up inside her as she runs for her boy, her lovely, traumatized, beautiful--
it's not percy who was screaming. she jerks to a stop right outside his door (two months later, when it's still happening, sally will call it their door) and gingerly waits as she hears voices, shaking and hoarse, from inside.
"--safe, beth," she hears percy whisper, over and over with the thickness and depth of someone who knew what unsafe really was like. his voice is strained, like he's trying not to cry. "i love you, i love you, shh, love, i love you, i love you--"
and sally claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her own sob as she hears what annabeth retorts with, like the daughter of a goddess can't help it, like the grisly words are ripped brutally from her throat. "i should've died, i should be dead, you should have let me die, percy, i want to--"
and percy cries, then, an ugly choking sound that annabeth mirrors, and sally can picture them grabbing onto each other, gripping each others' forearms and ignoring the nails that dig into skin. the mattress creaks like they've pressed together, too aware of what would happen if they were ever apart.
then it's muffled again, like they've thrown a blanket over themselves, but sally has heard enough.
it hurts, the next morning, when percy drags himself into the kitchen and blinks blearily at her. he blushes a little at the two coffees that sally has set out, but takes them both with a grateful half-smile. he says nothing, but kisses sally's cheek and accepts a scrunch of his hair before he disappears back down the hallway. he has scratches up his forearms that weren't there yesterday (sally always knows).
it hurts more to think that this is the best sally can do. make two cups of coffee and tousle her son's hair when she doesn't even know what happened to him, other than it was horrible and so terribly other.
so she turns a blind eye, heart heavy, salt drying on her cheeks, limbs aching from a newfound weariness she feels guilty for even having. sally pretends she doesn't know that every night, annabeth heaves her broken body over the balcony railing to come cry in tandem with her broken son.
74 notes · View notes
thecasualauthor18 · 5 months
Text
I FINALLY wrote some percabeth. Going back to my roots. :)
I'll Walk Through Hell With You
Summary:
"You know I love you, right?" A quiet moment between Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus.
66 notes · View notes
knuffled · 1 year
Text
a familiar ache
Tumblr media
a familiar ache
“But then he came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, and the second Annabeth locked eyes with him, she knew.
Fuck. It was Percy Jackson.
The spectral hands of memory ripped her out of her body and flung her back eight years in the past. Suddenly, she was thirteen again, stuck in a closet in Stephanie Fuller’s basement, unable to look her crush in the eye. He’d been shorter than her back then, but he still had the same eyes. Sea green and too full of understanding.”
207 notes · View notes
anticomedygarden · 3 months
Note
Could you write a fic where Percy gets really badly injured and it affects him for the rest of his life? Like he has a limp or a prosthetic? And Annabeth is really worried at first but helps him adjust and it all works out? I love your writing!
so, it's been *checks calendar* over a month! it's almost 11k if that helps? i hope you like it!
summary:
Percy's leg was in a hellhound's mouth. It was around 4:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, and Percy was laying in a random alley somewhere in Manhattan while a hellhound used his left leg as a chew toy after crushing and clawing the limb with its massive paw. Somewhere behind him, he couldn't really tell anymore, Annabeth was fighting empousai, though he could barely hear her through the roaring in his ears. Last he'd checked, there were two left, but he couldn't be sure how long ago that was, because, just to reiterate, his leg was in a hellhound's mouth. - Or: a hellhound tries to tear off Percy's leg. This is the aftermath.
read on ao3
a couple notes before reading: this is a very delicate and intricate topic, and i really hope i did it justice! that being said, i have helped loved ones through multiple situations very similar to this one and know what's it about and that each case is different. no one handles this shit the same way. it is also not a topic i feel like arguing about or reliving, so if you spot a mistake, please keep it to yourself unless it could actually harm someone (normally i would be saying lmk if you see a mistake, but these situations are legitimately some of the most stressful i've ever been in in my life and just thinking about them gives me horrible anxiety). I do still love comments and will happily talk about anything else related to this fic!
-
Percy's leg was in a hellhound's mouth.
It was around 4:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, and Percy was laying in a random alley somewhere in Manhattan while a hellhound used his left leg as a chew toy after crushing and clawing the limb with its massive paw. Somewhere behind him, he couldn't really tell anymore, Annabeth was fighting empousai, though he could barely hear her through the roaring in his ears. Last he'd checked, there were two left, but he couldn't be sure how long ago that was, because, just to reiterate, his leg was in a hellhound's mouth.
"Fuck," he gasped through gritted teeth. Already, he could feel a vague wetness as blood began to pool under his exposed and torn thigh, and black spots were slowly filling his vision. His entire left side up to his chest throbbed, sharp and burning the closer it got to his leg.
During the fight, before he fell, the hellhound knocked Riptide out of his hand. Surely, it had been long enough that the sword had reappeared in his pocket?
Concentrating hard against the pain, he reached down and found it. Before he could think twice about it, he untwisted the cap and brought the sword up in a sweeping arc, stabbing it in the side. Immediately, it exploded in a shower of golden dust.
Percy coughed and nearly passed out as his now open wounds began to pour out blood. If he closed his eyes, he could see the hellhound standing over him and stepping on his leg, hear the crack as the bone broke - which one and how many, he didn't know - feel its claws and teeth buried in his skin.
Yeah. He kept his eyes open.
Suddenly, the roaring in his ears stopped, and the next thing he knew, Annabeth was kneeling next to him with a panicked cry of, "Percy, oh my gods!"
He turned his head to look at her. Brushed golden from monster dust, her skin gave off the vague appearance of glowing, only emphasized by her bright blonde curls. Of course, he could just be delirious.
The glow certainly dimmed when she pushed her jacket against his leg. He cried out in pain, fire racing through his veins.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. I don't have any ambrosia," she said, even as she pressed down harder. Black spots exploded in his vision, and he squirmed, trying to curl up on his side. She pushed his shoulder back onto the ground and muttered another apology when she returned her hand to his leg.
"It-it's fine," he stammered out. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. He thought he might throw up.
"It's fine," she repeated, barely audible. "You're gonna be fine." Then, she shifted her arm so that it was covering more of his thigh, and a sharp pain went shooting through his whole left thigh, so consuming he could feel it in his jaw. He screamed. "Motherfucker!"
Annabeth sprung up. "What?" she said, alarmed.
Slowly, his dizzy brain managed to reassemble his thoughts. "Th-thigh."
She flipped her now blood-soaked jacket over and blanched. Not good, he thought.
"Don't freak out," she started.
"Too late."
"There's a claw stuck in one of the wounds."
Really not good.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, fists clenched against the hard asphalt. Was this how he would die, bleeding out in an alleyway because of a fucking hellhound and some empousai?
Something poked him in the cheek. "Keep your eyes open, Seaweed Brain."
Right. He had to stay alive for Annabeth. He couldn't leave her again. With great effort, he peeled his eyes open.
"I'm going to IM Nico, okay? Don't move." Like he could move.
The second the thought crossed his mind, she tied her jacket sleeves tight around his leg, and he groaned with the effort of staying still.
Thankfully, she found her prism and drachma quickly. He couldn't see it, but presumably, a rainbow popped up somewhere near his feet.
"Oh, Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me Nico di Angelo at Camp Half Blood."
Right away, Annabeth put her hands back on his leg, causing another wave of pain to roll through him. He must've passed out for a second because when he came back to himself, it was to see Nico staring down at him, eyes wide and pale.
"...awake, stay awake!" Annabeth was saying. Oops. Relief shone in her stormy grey eyes when she caught his open green ones. "Don't close your eyes."
Don't close your eyes, he repeated to himself, almost like a mantra.
She turned to Nico. "Can you come get us and take us back to camp?"
"Where are you?"
Keep your eyes open, Seaweed Brain.
Annabeth rattled off the street name.
"I'll be right there."
Don't close your eyes.
The IM cut off.
"You better still be awake, Seaweed Brain." It took him a minute to focus on her words, so most of what he heard was, "...awake, Seaweed Brain"
Right.
Don't close your eyes.
He groaned.
Don't close your eyes.
"Percy!" Frantic movements lower down startled him, but it wasn't enough to shock him into awareness.
Don't close your eyes.
Don't close your-
-
The first thing Percy became aware of was the sounds of quiet murmuring. Two people, he guessed, having a whispered discussion that he was still too out of it to understand.
Underneath him, the sheets were scratchy and the blanket thin, nothing like the velvety fabric of the bed clothes in his cabin or even his old worn down comforter and sheets at home. Then, the acrid stench of anti-septic seared his nostrils. He was in the infirmary.
All at once, the fight came back to him, and with it, a dull throbbing that echoed throughout his body, centered in his left knee. He vaguely registered something warm and callused in his left hand. Without meaning to, he squeezed it as his other hand grabbed at the sheets.
The whispering stopped, but the thing in his hand remained, and he knew it could only belong to one person. "Annabeth?" he tried, voice not quite making it past his dry lips.
Before he could try again, something - it must be her other hand - brushed his forehead. "Percy? Can you open your eyes?"
He tried, but his eyelids were so heavy, and the throbbing in his leg made him want to pass right back out. Distantly, he heard someone get up and quiet footsteps as they walked away.
"Please, baby, open your eyes for me?"
There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. 
Fighting against what felt like days worth of that crusty eye crap, he managed to force them open only to shut them again. It was so bright in the infirmary.
But then Annabeth squeezed his hand, and he tried again, this time making sure not to look directly up. Instead, he found himself with a face full of bright blonde curls and grey eyes crinkled in concern. On instinct, he tried to stand, sit up, something just to go to her and reassure her. He never even made it onto his elbows since lightning raced up his leg the second he moved.
He did, however, manage to twist his torso to lean over the side of the bed as nausea rolled through him. Annabeth must have figured out what was about to happen because she thrust a trash can under his chin.
As soon as he was done, he collapsed backward onto the bed, eyes closed and shivering slightly. Didn't matter how many times he did it; vomiting sucked.
"Here." Annabeth put a straw in his mouth, and he drank greedily. The effect was immediate. The throbbing died down to a dull ache, and he stopped feeling like he was gonna throw up again. He did still feel a little feverish, though, sweaty and too warm. "Feel any better?"
He nodded, and soon, the footsteps from earlier returned with another in tow. This time, he managed to keep his eyes open without vomiting. It was Nico and Will.
"Hey, you're awake," Will said, coming around to stand opposite Annabeth. Nico stayed loitering awkwardly in front of the sheet (sheet? how the hell long had he been out?) hanging a few feet from the bed. That was when he started to get scared that something was seriously wrong. "How do you feel?"
It was easier to talk since the water, but his voice still came out hoarse. "Hot."
Will sighed. "That'd be all the ambrosia. Sorry, I can't give you anymore without you combusting."
"It's fine," he slurred. "I like not being combusted."
Now, he really knew something was wrong because all three of them laughed at his shitty joke.
"Does anything hurt?" Will asked.
An it feels fine was right on the tip of his tongue, but before he could answer, Annabeth said, "Don't lie."
She knew him too well. "My knee hurts a little, but the water helped."
Will nodded. "That's good. It'll probably feel like that for a few days before it's fully healed, so as long as it doesn't get worse or the water stops helping, you should be fine."
Percy blinked. That didn't sound too bad.
"That's the good news."
Shit. Annabeth squeezed his hand.
"The bad news is you have a broken knee and several torn ligaments and tendons, and the scratches still have to heal. Even after rehab and PT, it might not be the same."
Oh. "Oh." Then, just because he was still processing, and his brain was still foggy enough that he could've heard wrong, he said, "Are you sure?"
Shockingly, Will nodded. "Sorry, I know it's not what you want to hear."
Not what he wanted to hear. Will could say that again. For the gods' sake, he was basically dead. With his blood and reputation, monsters wouldn't let him live outside Camp's borders for long enough to get to his mom's apartment.
Shit. His mom.
"We'll leave you two alone." With that, Will and Nico left the room, leaving Percy to wonder why Nico was there in the first place. There was only one thing he could think of, and that thought scared him more than his leg.
"Oh my gods, Percy, I'm-"
"Have you talked to my mom-"
They both paused and looked at each other. Annabeth cleared her throat. "Yeah, I IMed your mom twice, once last night and once the night before, she's worried and wants to talk to you."
That was probably the best Percy could hope for in this situation. He only hoped that she wasn't worrying herself too much and that she and Paul hadn't told Estelle anything. At two years old, she was way too young to know everything about her older brother's life.
Wait. Did she say two nights ago? "How long have I been unconscious?"
Annabeth bit her lip. "Almost two days."
His eyes widened in shock. "What?"
Horrifyingly, she nodded. "Percy, it's a miracle you're awake now. You had to get a blood transfusion. Do you know how much blood a demigod has to lose to need a blood transfusion?"
"A lot?"
Annabeth made a strangled noise.
He supposed he should have expected something like this to happen at some point with their lives and all; he'd just been hoping it would be farther down the line, say when they had retired to New Rome and were permanently within safety borders. Oh well.
When he tried to think back to the fight, it was mostly just blank with brief flashes of pain and panic. "What exactly happened?"
She squeezed his hand again and then told him all about how the half dozen empousai cornered them in the alley followed by the hellhound. Since she had been busy with her own four cheerleaders, she wasn't paying close attention to his fight, but she thought that the hellhound snuck up on him and knocked him down, then took hold of his leg.
He really didn't like any of that. If those basic monsters could get the drop on him when he was healthy, what did that say about his future? It hadn't quite set in yet, but he was sure that any time now, it would. Possibly around the time he left the borders and was immediately mauled to death by a pit demon.
He turned his head and caught sight of the hellhound claw on the table next to the bed. Annabeth followed his sight line and picked it up. "Will had to dig it out of your thigh, but I thought you might want to keep it as a spoil."
He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. It felt more like a mockery than a trophy.
"Hey, look at me," Annabeth urged, tipping his chin towards her. "We're gonna get through this."
We, not you. They were in this together, just like they had been since they were twelve. And looking into Annabeth's eyes, he could see her planning and planning and planning, creating training regimens, diet plans, scheduling rehab she'd probably already discussed with Will, making a list of deities to pray to, tracking her path through the library, and every other little detail involved in recovery. It was a good thing she was used to making her own paths and strategies because most demigods didn't live to see chronic pain associated with battle injuries, but he was sure they were up to the task.
-
Maybe he spoke too soon.
Scratch that. He definitely spoke too soon. Rehab sucked, and he honestly wasn't sure how he was supposed to get through weeks of this. The only positive was that with him being a demigod and all, he would be healed enough in time for the next semester at NRU, but he really wasn't sure how he was going to balance rehab (and eventually PT) with school work and actual work. Plus, he was losing his mind after spending a whole week in the infirmary. Sure, once they'd realized he wouldn't stay in the bed, Will and Kayla had put him to work doing menial tasks, but there were only so many things he could do without moving around. Even Annabeth, with her own ADHD, ended up doing rounds with whichever child of Apollo was on duty at a given time when she wasn't spending time with Percy.
Even so, getting back into his cabin was both a blessing and a curse. He had a bit more freedom of movement, and he didn't have to do PT with the Apollo kids watching him, but now he had to start training for combat with his new limited motion. It was at this point that he started wishing he was mortal.
"Please don't tell me this is what I think it is," he said. Especially strong painkillers meant he wasn't in too much pain, but he was still awkward on crutches and exhausted. Starting a new training regimen, no matter how important, was not in his list of things he wanted to do.
"Yep," Annabeth said, far too gleefully for his tastes. "Long range weapons."
He groaned. This would not go well.
"Don't worry, we're starting with throwing daggers." She took a small knife out of the bucket by their feet and handed it to him, adjusting his grip until she was satisfied. "You can throw."
"Supposedly." Shifting one crutch to her (Will had told him he could do this) and leaning on the other, he cocked his right arm back and let the dagger fly. Like a bright stick, it bounced off the outer border of the target and landed on the ground. He knew he shouldn't be disappointed; he rarely worked with anything but a sword, and with his knee, it was harder to adjust his balance. But still. It was throwing a dagger. It was literally the one thing he could do right now, and it wasn't even the first time he'd done it.
Thankfully, the only cabin at range practice now was the Hypnos cabin, so there was nobody around (at least, nobody awake) to see his failure.
"So there's some stuff to work on," Annabeth said, not one bit less brightly. "Here, watch me."
He watched how she stood with her legs apart and shoulders set, and then how her fingers manipulated the small object. The dagger sailed through the air, straight to the center of the bullseye.
Leaning on the crutch with his non throwing hand, he shifted his feet carefully, moved his fingers, and threw it again. This time, it stuck on the outside ring.
"See, you're already getting better," Annabeth said and handed him another dagger. "You know, learning and practicing new skills is really good for your brain."
He threw another dagger; this one hit closer to the center but bounced back to the ground next to the first one. "Any chance it's also good for your knees?"
She shrugged. "Anything good for your brain is good for your whole body."
"Great."
They stayed out there for about a half hour until the painkillers started to wear off and then went back to his cabin. He took a nap; she read a book - something about sports injuries. The next day, they went right back out to the archery range, and the next day, and the next. He didn't see much improvement, but Annabeth insisted. His sleep was fitful and full of nightmares. On the days he felt up to walking all the way to the lake or to the beach, they swam, which always helped. Annabeth had him praying to a slew of different gods, Apollo and Asclepius, obviously, then a few minor deities he'd never heard of like Aceso and Telesphorus. One day, he IMed his mom and Paul who were both very worried. His mom held up Estelle so she could say hi, and he cried, which he blamed on the painkillers. Every night, the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the hellhound claw, right next to the minotaur horn on his nightstand.
-
It had to go to shit at some point. Every day, he got more and more frustrated, and every day, their training sessions felt less and less like when he first came to camp and more and more like Annabeth was placating him. Finally, two weeks after the attack, it came to a head.
-
As Percy watched the knife sail through air only to bounce uselessly off the target, he couldn't help but feel a sort of grim satisfaction. He was no threat to anyone like this, least of all the gods. He couldn't run, couldn't even walk fast, couldn't use Riptide without falling over. Long distance weapons were a lost cause. His only hope in a fight would be his powers, and he was so damn tired all the time, what was the point?
Will told him it would get better with time and hard work, but right now, it really felt like he would be dead the second he stepped out of the borders. So much for the two time savior of Olympus, best swordsman in 300 years, and one of four demigods ever to survive the pit.
His and Annabeth's Tartarus trip was a long way behind them, but maybe this was what he got for trying to choke out a goddess. He couldn't scare a fly like this, let alone Annabeth or Akhlys. It brought back the thought that some divinity orchestrated his injury on purpose to get rid of a threat.
When movement to the side caught his eye, a snort bubbled up in his throat. He couldn't even fully trust himself to turn around without over-balancing. Pathetically, he stared into the dark grass, inky in the nighttime. What a fucking joke.
"You never came to bed," the figure said, coming up behind him. It was Annabeth, because, who else would it be? He'd come out to the archery fields for alone time and only succeeded in making himself miserable. Of course she came to find him.
After the last week, spending every waking and non waking minute with people watching his every move, waiting for him to fuck up, he almost wanted time with his angry, demeaning thoughts. At least out here with nothing but grass and targets, he didn't have to pretend for anyone but Artemis, and she was all the way up in the sky (or Selene, depending on who you asked). "Just wanted some more target practice."
She nodded, pointedly not looking at the daggers scattered all over the ground. He kinda hated that, too, that she felt like she had to walk on eggshells around him now. "It's getting pretty late. Do you want me to clean up?"
How could he tell her that he didn't want her to offer? That he wanted her to passive aggressively show him how to hold and throw the dagger again, annoyance lacing her voice, call him, "Seaweed Brain," no matter how many times he got it wrong or right? That he wanted her to mock him for not cleaning up his mess, "Just like your cabin and bedroom, Seaweed Brain, all it's missing are dirty clothes." He had barely been out of the infirmary to train for a week, and he already couldn't stand the trepidation or the coddling. He wanted her to push him like she always had so that he could actually improve.
But what other option did he have? "Yeah, I guess."
Her eyes narrowed, giving him that look, worried and calculating at the same time. It was too much. "Please don't look at me like that."
She looked up sharply. "What?"
"Like I'm about to fall over or something."
Her expression said that she was very worried he was about to fall over or something, but she turned away and focused on picking up the daggers. When she was done, she came back over to him, a carefully neutral expression on her face, and said, "Ready for bed?"
He thought about the hellhound claw sitting on his nightstand, right next to the horn of his second monster. The minotaur felt like a long way away. He'd grown a lot since then, physically, mentally, emotionally, yet here he was now, back at square one, trying to learn how to fight monsters when his world was turning upside down, and now, he couldn't use his sword or his bare hands. He was even farther from the confused kid he'd been when he fought his first monster, Mrs. Dodds, with Riptide.
From the second Chiron put Riptide in his hands, he had been a natural. The sword flowed like water as if it were an extension of his powers, just like that first lesson with Luke. This, long range weapons that weren't even archery? It felt like cement coating his hands, scarred hands meant for the battlefield he was dropped in at twelve and never left. His only hope to walk away now was to learn more violence.
"Actually, do you mind if I stay out here for a bit?" They both knew it wasn't a request; rather, a desperate attempt to stay out of the stale air and push off staring at the bottom of the bunk above him while he agonized over all the ways his life had irrevocably changed. Or worse, slept and dreamed.
Despite that, she said, "Is everything okay?"
He tried to leave it, just brush it off, but he'd done that so many times already, and this was what it got him, so he answered honestly: "No."
She paused. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
He knew there wasn't any point in saying no, so he mustered up his two years of therapy and tried for emotional maturity. "I'm just getting frustrated, I guess." Well. It couldn't be said that he didn't try.
She dumped the daggers into the bin and put a hand on his arm. "You'll get better."
"You can't know that," he said, frustration evident even to his own ears. "It's been a week, and I still can't hit the damn target." Or stand up for more than ten minutes, or walk more than the distance from his cabin to the dining pavilion, or sleep without painkillers.
"It takes more than a week to learn this stuff, and it takes more than two weeks to heal from almost getting your leg chewed off, you know that."
He did, but he also wasn't in the mood for being logical. "We leave for New Rome in two weeks. As soon as leave the borders, I'm gonna get-"
"No!"
Percy looked up, surprised at the fear lacing her tone. Despite that, her voice was firm. "You are going to get better, and you are going to be fine." She emphasized her point with a palm on his chest.
She said it with such certainty that he almost believed her, and he desperately wanted to. However, this was the most emotion he'd gotten out of her since waking up in the infirmary, and he wasn't done. "What if I'm not?"
Her gray eyes flashed. "You will be."
"But if I'm not?" he choked out. "What if I can't fight monsters and can never leave borders?" He'd never be able to see his mom or Paul or Estelle again. Would his sister grow up thinking she was an only child? Even worse, would he be killed, leaving Annabeth alone and his family grieving? He tried to push down the thought that he'd rather die than let that happen, but it came up anyway.
"That is not going to happen, Percy. We have a plan. This isn't forever-"
"Plans don't always work! What if I can't come back from this?" By now, fear was leaking into his own voice.
Annabeth shook her head, mouth a thin line in the moonlight. "You're gonna heal. It's barely been half a month. New Rome has doctors trained to deal with this type of injury, and those demigods are fine."
He breathed out through his nose. "None of them are kids of the Big Three. None of them are as powerful as me." He knew that he was being difficult, knew that even before they found out about New Rome, they had aids for chronic pain and lasting injuries, but he also knew that none of the demigods those aids worked for smelled as strong as him or had such bright targets on their backs. None of them were still gonna get bombarded with monsters years after reaching adulthood when their scents should have started fading.
And either way, so many of those demigods didn't make it.
Annabeth opened her mouth to argue, but he kept going. "Did you ever think someone might have made this happen?"
Annabeth's eyes went wide, and she sucked in a breath. So she had.
"I knew it," he said bitterly. It didn't feel like a victory.
"We can't be thinking like that," Annabeth warned. "The only gods that can control hellhounds don't hate you, and even if you were targeted, that could start a war."
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Really? There's no one you can think of that might hate me? That might be afraid of me?" After two years of therapy, he didn't think it could be divine punishment, but he wasn't above thinking it was divine intervention.
"Where is this coming from?" Annabeth said rather than answering.
"There's no one," he continued, uncomfortably aware but uncaring that he probably sounded like Luke, "that might have had any motivation to take the twice saviour of Olympus, Tartarus survivor, and most powerful demigod of our generation, down a peg that also has access to hellhounds?"
"I wouldn't exactly say 'stuck in Tartarus' equals 'has access to hellhounds'-"
"You don't understand being just a little happy that I'm not as scary anymore?"
She flinched, and he felt regret cut him up inside as the words came out. "You are so fucking stupid sometimes, Percy-"
"Right, that's all I'm good for, isn't it-"
"I was never scared of your powers!" she said. She took her hands away from his body and stepped away.
It startled him enough to stop the self-hatred spiral. If he could've, he would've stumbled backward, too. "What?"
"I was fucking terrified the gods would kill you for being too powerful, but I wasn't afraid of you." She breathed out heavily. "There. I admitted it. You almost killed a goddess! Okay, for the first time in our lives, I was scared you could turn into Luke." The second the words were out, her mouth snapped shut, eyes wide as saucers.
"Is that what you think of me?" he said, voice trembling. "You think that I could ever be like him?" Even though he'd been fishing for that confirmation as some twisted validation, actually hearing she thought that, that there was even a possibility of him ever turning on his family like that in her mind made him feel worse than he had ever felt in his life. He had scared her in Tartarus so bad that she was afraid of him becoming a traitor. He, Percy, had done that. Not a monster, not a god, him, and now he was making it worse with his angry paranoia.
Annabeth's face had gone white. "No, of course not, I-"
Percy held up a hand, and she stopped, looking nervous. That made him feel even worse. "I think you should sleep in your own cabin tonight."
"What? No, we shouldn't..." She trailed off, then nodded, still not looking happy, and Percy thought he could see tears in her eyes. It almost made him start crying. "If you really want me too, I will, but I don't think we should go to bed angry."
He'd rather be just angry than scary. He'd rather sleep in separate beds than think he was scaring her.
Besides, he wouldn't be able to sleep now with anyone next to him, too afraid of having a nightmare and losing control of his powers, and he was so desperately tired all the time now between the pain, the ambrosia, and the frustration. He just wanted to sleep without being woken up by pain or panic. "I really think you should."
He didn't wait to see her fists clench or her wet eyes close in pain. He just turned around and limped away.
-
Percy had barely sat down when the door to his cabin flew open and a certain son of Hades burst in carrying a black drawstring bag - of what, he couldn't tell.
"Go away, Nico," he said wearily.
The son of Hades threw the bag on the bed next to him. "No."
"I'm not in the mood." He looked away from his cousin and happened to see the stupid hellhound claw on his nightstand mocking him. If he could move that way without hurting himself, he'd knock it off the stand into the trash can.
Completely ignoring him, Nico closed the door and sat down on the floor. "Clearly."
"C'mon man, I wanna be alone." Why couldn't people just leave him alone?
"No you don't."
Percy made a snort of derision. "Excuse me?"
Still without looking at Percy, Nico grabbed the bag back off the bed and pulled what looked like Wii controllers out. What the hell? "If you stay here alone, you're just gonna wallow in self hatred, and nobody wants that."
"And you think imaginary video games are gonna help with that?"
Nico didn't answer, but he did pull a drachma out of his pocket, and, after setting one of his rings on the ground to let sunlight bounce off it into a rainbow, threw it. "Oh, Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me the Wii in the Big House."
Immediately, the image of his door was replaced with the TV wall of the living room in the Big House, the Wii sitting on the little brown stand underneath it. Nico handed him a controller. "We're playing Mario Kart."
Percy took the controller, now more confused than annoyed. "How?"
"Lou Ellen." Nico pressed a button on his controller, and the TV lit up. He didn't offer any other explanation, and Percy didn't ask.
Soon, Nico's Yoshi was lined up next to Percy's Koopa Troopa on the Rainbow Bridge, and he still had no idea what was going on. 
As the countdown went off and the race started, Nico said, "You can talk about it, if you want, since that's apparently supposed to help." A second later, he cursed when Percy hit a mushroom and zoomed ahead of him.
He thought about it for a minute, debating how much he wanted to tell his cousin and also trying to get past the block in his throat. At least he could trust Nico to be objective. "Do you think I'm scary?" he said eventually.
"Not particularly," Nico said. "At least, not to your friends."
Percy's car spun out on a banana peel, and Annabeth's scared face flashed behind his eyelids. "Do you still think that now?"
Nico was quiet for long enough that Percy was afraid he was being ignored. Then, he said, "Yeah. I mean, right now, with the leg, you've got that uncontrolled thing going on, and with all the training, once you're back on your feet, you might be even worse than before." His cart finished its first lap. "Before that goes to your head, remember that's not necessarily a bad thing."
Percy's cart sped up behind Nico's. This time, he saw Akhlys. "To some people, it is."
Percy was just about to send a blue shell to Luigi when Nico paused the game and turned to him. "I can see where you're going with this, so now is probably a good time to tell you that I already asked my dad if there had been anything suspicious going on with any of his hellhounds, and he said no."
Percy rubbed his thigh around the top of the brace. On the one hand, that meant that no one was actively trying to harm him. On the other hand, that meant he had gotten complacent enough to let a hellhound, a monster he had beaten many times before, even in packs, get past his defenses to hurt him this bad. That wasn't good, and he didn't like what that said about his chances in the future.
He decided to change the subject. "How'd you know I was in a bad mood?"
Nico pressed play on the game. "The cocoa puffs heard you two yelling, and I saw you go into your cabin alone."
"Oh." He fell off the road, and one of the little bird things cheerfully brought him back up. "It was such a stupid fight."
"Most of them are."
"I hate being so dependent on everyone." Somehow, the words came out easier when he was pushing his cousin off the edge of the rainbow bridge into the abyss.
"Asshole." Within seconds, he was back on the road and sending shells after Koopa Troopa. "I hate to break it to you, but you're probably gonna feel that way for a while."
"I know that, but if it were anyone else or a less major injury, she'd be pushing me like she would in anything else." He didn't have to specify who exactly 'she' was. "I'm not gonna get any better if there's no challenge." He wished he could compete with her like when they sparred, but he just couldn't, and he wouldn't be able to if he never improved. "But then I feel bad because it feels like I'm making her responsible for me when she's already stressed."
"You're both stressed, and your recovery is both of your number one priorities right now. Just tell her that, and she'll adjust. She's smart. She probably already knows it." Nico paused the game and pulled a sleeve of Oreos out of his bag. "She's probably also trying to keep you from overworking yourself which will not help either of you."
Percy sighed and took an Oreo. Unfortunately, his cousin was right. "Yeah."
Suddenly, a smokey figure squeezed through the side of his cabin door, one eyed and with a single horn, almost like a dark, puffy unicorn. It glided under the IM and curled up on Nico's lap. "Hey, buddy." The Italian boy scratched where Percy guessed it's ears were.
Percy leaned over, careful not to jostle his leg, and pet the cocoa puff on the head. "Which one is this?"
Nico pressed play on the game, and Percy scrambled for his remote. "Internalized homophobia."
"Oh, sick."
And that was that.
-
Annabeth did not sleep well that night. Tossing and turning, she couldn't get the words her and Percy spat at each other out of her head. They were some of the worst words they'd ever said to each other, even in all the years before they started dating. She didn't mean any of them, at least, not in the order she said them. She desperately wanted to tell Percy that, but she wasn't going to go busting into his cabin after he asked for space. It was probably for the best, anyway. Some time apart to cool off would do them good.
Which is what she told herself when she rolled out of bed at 4 in the morning, finally giving up on getting any rest after only three hours. She didn't even get dressed, just stomped over to the arena in the hopes of working out this nervous energy.
The arena was the same as it always was with the big empty ring in the middle which she bypassed in favor of the training dummies. In her haste to leave her cabin, she left her drakon bone sword by her bed, so she picked up a random sword - something heavy, good for tiring her out - and started hacking at a dummy with no particular skill. It was messy and angry, exactly how she felt, with chunks of straw flying everywhere. She was so engrossed in her shit that she didn't notice someone walk in.
"Damn, someone's pissy," the daughter of Ares said as she made her way to Annabeth's side of the arena.
Years of practice being a lookout kept her from screeching like a startled animal, but she still whirled around, sword tip out in front of her. "What the fuck, Clarisse?" She didn't even have it in her to be embarrassed by her sweaty, too large sleep shirt and short pajama shorts.
Herself in black and red workout clothes, the girl in question held her hands up and nodded at the straw figure behind Annabeth. "I'm just here for my morning workout. You can go back to turning him into confetti."
Slowly lowering the sword, Annabeth chanced a glance at the dummy and winced. Its head was almost completely gone, and the rest of it was mostly bare straw with no rhyme or reason to the slashes and holes she'd carved in it. "I should probably get a fresh one."
"Yeah, that'll help."
When she turned back around, several pieces of straw came out of her hair, but she didn't pay it one lick of attention. "What are you trying to say?"
Clarisse smirked. "Attack that dummy all you want, it's not gonna make you feel better about whatever fight you had with Kelp Head."
Annabeth grimaced, panicking a bit at the thought of anyone else hearing their angry words, especially the ones that could get them killed. "Were we that loud?"
Thankfully, Clarisse shook her head as she went to pick up a sword off the rack. "No."
"Then how did you know?"
Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Please. Daggers all over the archery range, you up before 9, and I know you slept in the Athena cabin. I walked in here expecting to have traveled back 7 years."
Annabeth felt her cheeks heat up. Their fight certainly was reminiscent of their teenage pre-dating years. "And what do you suggest I do about it?" Without being able to go talk to Percy, she was open to suggestions.
"Well, first off, it might help to fight something with skill."
That was all the warning she got before Clarisse charged her, forcing her onto the defensive. Bringing her own weapon up to protect herself, she suddenly regretted her choice of the heavy broadsword. It wasn't anywhere near her usual weapon; it was awkward in her hands, scarred hands that were meant for a bronze dagger from an old friend, and not good for close quarters with an intimate enemy that knew her well.
Despite that, Clarisse was right. It was difficult to think of anything else when she was actually being challenged. 
They went at it for a while, neither willing to give up ground. Annabeth could feel her arms collecting nicks and bruises, and she could practically feel the lactic acid building up in her muscles. She'd be sore later, but that was fine. She relished the burn. As someone who spent so much time in her head, it was nice to have that reminder of her own humanity, to have something to remind her to take care of herself and return to her body.
With that thought came thoughts of Percy. Was that how he felt, too? Was his knee now a token of his mortality? Was that why he was so adamant a god could be punishing him?
The idea made her want to scream. They hadn't really talked about Akhlys since right after Tartarus, preferring to keep those discussions in therapy. And he'd been doing so well, too; she hadn't realized he'd backslid so much. She made a mental note to schedule sessions for when they got back to New Rome. For now, she'd just have to talk to him herself.
Her moment of distraction cost her. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back with Clarisse's sword on her throat. "Gotcha, girlie."
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "You win." She took Clarisse's offered hand. "Go again?"
"Obviously."
This time, Annabeth attacked first, yet Clarisse still managed to throw her a curve ball. "You wanna talk about it?"
Annabeth slashed and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"I just wanna know where my competition is." Clarisse was, of course, smirking.
Annabeth sighed. She did kinda want to talk about it, though she was careful to pick out the parts that wouldn't be too personal or dangerous. "I called him stupid," she said matter-of-factly at the same time her sword clashed with Clarisse's.
The other girl snorted. "So? He is."
Annabeth's next jab was maybe a bit more forceful than it needed to be, as were her words. "No, he's not." He wasn't . He was so smart: observant and perceptive, the only reason he came off as less than was because of years of bullying and abuse paired with neglect from uncaring teachers that decided who he was before they ever met him; he was strategic and ingenuitive, but low self esteem, recklessness, and an apparent disregard for his own safety made people think otherwise at first glance. She couldn't believe that she called him stupid. She knew firsthand that he was anything but.
Clarisse dodged her angry hand easily and nodded approvingly. "See, you already don't believe it. Just tell him that when he's ready to talk."
That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he believed her stupid words in the first place. "That's not the only thing, though."
"It never is, is it?" Clarisse said. "Listen, with this type of injury, everything is frustrating at first. You have to relearn how to do everything. Nothing's the same, and it never feels like you're making any progress. Plus, it's so much worse when the stakes are life and death. I don't know what all you two said to each other, but as long as he knows you support him and that you think he will get better, you're gonna be fine."
12 hours ago, she would've said she knew he believed that. Now, she wasn't so sure. "What do I do if he doesn't?"
"Keep helping him. Don't coddle him. He has to believe there's a world to come back to where he's independent."
She knew that, gods, how she knew that. That first week after the attack had been one of the hardest of her entire life. Watching Percy try to navigate himself, woozy from pain and medications, and trying to figure out how to do things himself while also coming to grips with the fact that he couldn't. It was heartbreaking, even more so knowing it was a million times worse for him, so sue her for going a little overboard. She would work on it, but for now, she couldn't feel bad about it. She already felt bad enough about everything else. "How do you know so much about this stuff?"
Clarisse made another jab. "Daughter of Ares. We see this stuff all the time."
The words gave her hope. Since the attack, she'd been terrified that Percy's injury would get him killed, but if Clarisse knew that many people that survived to recovery, then surely even Percy's stronger scent wouldn't mean certain death. Maybe she could even get him to talk to Clarisse himself.
But first, she had an apology to make.
-
Light was just starting to filter into the Poseidon cabin when Percy was awoken by a light tapping at his door. Despite his and Nico's conversation, Percy hadn't slept well at all, and he assumed Annabeth hadn't either. "Come in."
He was right. The door opened slowly, and his girlfriend stepped in just as he was disentangling himself from the blankets and sitting up. He'd never say it out loud, but she didn't look great. Dark bags under her eyes, sweat everywhere, straw in her hair somehow, and bruises and cuts dotting her arms. She must have been in the arena.
"I'm sorry," they said at the same time.
She smiled sheepishly. "I have a lot to say, so you should probably go first."
He let out a nervous chuckle. Of course she did. "I shouldn't have said all that. I don't really think anyone did this to me." At least, he didn't now.
She walked over to his bed and sat down beside him. "No, it was a valid suspicion. It wouldn't be the first time a god interfered in our lives for 'the greater good.'" She put air quotes around the last three words.
"Yeah, you're right," he said, as usual. "I talked to Nico last night, and he said he asked his dad about it and that Hades said as far as he knew, no one commandeered one of his hellhounds, so I guess that's that."
"Oh." She looked pensive. He wished he knew what was going on in her brain sometimes, but right now, he was too scared to ask. It probably looked more complicated than the rules to Risk. "Well, I'm sorry, too. You're not stupid."
He blinked. That was not what he thought she'd be starting with. "Okay?"
"You're very smart, and I wish you knew that. That's all I meant by it."
"Okay," he said again, even though they both knew he didn't quite believe her.
She took a deep breath. "Now the other thing."
He winced. The other thing.
She grabbed his hand, and he squeezed it. They'd both need the support for the rest of this conversation. "Percy, you have to understand, I was scared of everything down there, but I was most afraid of losing you, and watching you control Akhlys' poison seemed like tempting the fates."
The worst part was, he could understand that, and he couldn't blame her for entertaining the thought of him becoming like Luke, especially with their history with Olympus. That was just how she thought; she had to consider every possibility to feel in control of a situation, and unfortunately, those were both possibilities, no matter how much they both hated it. And he probably sounded a lot like Luke last night, bitter and paranoid; he would've thought the same thing.
"But I forgot your fatal flaw. Percy, I regret that so much, now. I know you could never be like Luke. You would never betray anyone."
He pressed her fingers to his mouth in silent thanks. That was exactly what he needed to hear. If nothing else, he could trust that Annabeth knew him and his flaws better than anybody, even himself, and if she said he couldn't do it, then that was that.
She grinned at him. "Besides, you know if you ever turned, I would be right there with you."
He nodded, letting out a small chuckle. Yeah, he definitely knew that. Actually, if he ever turned, it would be because of her. It was a truth they'd both known since before they'd ever started dating. Where she was, he would go, and vice versa.
"I've always been terrified of you dying, except now there's a whole new dimension to it. I'm trying to get used to it, but it's gonna take some time."
He nodded again. Of course she'd be scared now, discombobulated as she navigated new, completely uncharted territory and tried to regain a sense of control. "Okay. Just don't baby me, please."
She turned red but smiled. "I think I can handle that, as long as you promise to tell me when you're in pain."
He heaved an over dramatic sigh, and her smile widened. "Fine."
When he groaned a minute later, Annabeth frowned. "What?"
"This is the part of the movie where the intense training montage starts, isn't it?"
She just laughed at him. "I'm afraid so, Seaweed Brain."
Then, she stood and stretched, causing her sleep shirt to ride up. It didn't reveal any skin because it was actually his shirt, but he still thought it was sexy.
She held out a hand, and he recognized it for the compromise it was: she wouldn't go get breakfast and bring it back to his cabin if he let her help him instead of him going alone and getting frustrated.
He took it, obviously, and they walked to the pavilion together, slowly, carefully.
"You know, it was kind of a nostalgia trip," he said jokingly.
She laughed. "I thought the same thing after Clarisse said something."
"Oh, gods." Their poor friends. "Let's try not to go down that road again."
"Deal."
-
"Percy!" Sally exclaimed when she opened the apartment door. "And Annabeth, hello, you two."
"Hey, mom," Percy said, and took a second to just hug his mom. It was so easy to relax into the embrace and let worries of future arthritis, knee replacements, and chronic pain melt away. He could practically feel his muscles untense as he breathed in her scent. She smelled like blue chocolate chip cookies, coconut shampoo, and home.
When she pulled back to hug Annabeth, he couldn't help but notice that her dark brown hair was more gray speckled than it had been the last time he saw her, and he knew it was because of him. He wished he could take away her worries and promise he'd be fine, that they'd never have to go through anything like this again, but he couldn't, and it killed him. He would give her I'm sorrys and I love yous and Thank yous until he was blue in the face if it made her realize how important she was to him.
His friends called him a momma's boy; he called it a fraction of what she deserved.
Then, she led them into the apartment, both trying to shake off the elevator. That had been one thing he'd forgotten while recovering at Camp Half-Blood: elevators were his friend now, not a horrible trip down memory lane, which has definitely been an adjustment. (Of course, it could be both, as he and Annabeth quickly learned.)
Already, he could smell cookies, and it all looked exactly as it has when they left, except with considerably less baby toys scattered around the floor, which he greatly appreciated.
"I'm so glad you could stop by before you head over," his mom said. "Sit down, I'm sure Paul-"
"Percy!"
Suddenly, a small figure appeared at the end of the hallway and raced toward him, giving him no time to even panic. Fortunately, Annabeth stepped in and caught the little girl, swinging her up into her soldier's arms. "Estelle!"
It hurt him more than he thought it would that he couldn't let his little sister run at or jump on him anymore. He thought he would have at least a few more years of that.
"Hey, squirt," he said, smiling despite it all. He held up a hand for her to high five.
She started to hold her hand up but hesitated. "Percy got hurt."
His heart broke. "Yeah, I did, but look!" He held out his arms and stepped back so she could get a good look at him. "I'm all better now."
She pursed her lips in that way little kids do, and he did his best to not grin when she let out an exaggerated breath and said, "Alright." Then, she made grabby hands at him.
Sally moved forward. "Stella, honey, remember, just because someone looks okay doesn't mean they're not hurting."
Estelle turned a look of betrayal his way, all open mouth and wide eyes, like she couldn't believe he would try to trick her into believing he was fine. Annabeth met his eyes over her head and mouthed, She has no idea.
Well. Percy couldn't exactly argue with that.
Even so, he held up his arms and said, "I can take her."
Annabeth and Sally both looked at him that time, exasperated and stern at the same time, which he didn't exactly think was fair. He felt fine.
They were all saved from more less than subtle glances by Paul emerging from Estelle's room at the end of the hall who was really looking like a middle aged dad today in a gray button down and old jeans. "Hey, you two. How's the knee?"
Over the past few weeks, the question had really started to bother him, but right now it helped that he knew Paul was asking out of genuine curiosity and worry rather than probing for a negative answer to gossip about or use as an excuse to fuss over him. It was still kind of annoying, though. "Getting better. It feels pretty good right now."
Paul smiled. "Glad to hear it."
Sally pushed both him and Annabeth toward the couch. "Go sit down."
They obeyed with minimal protests, and from there, had a great time eating cookies, playing with Estelle (and he was even able to get on the floor with her), and catching up with his parents. They also grabbed some stuff from his bedroom that they had been forced to leave behind, so, basically everything.
Several hours later, when they were laden down with an extra duffel bag and several containers of food, they made their way up to the roof with a "Have a good flight!" from Paul and multiple I love yous from everyone. (They weren't taking an actual plane, of course. No, they were taking a day and a half pegasus flight that he really was not looking forward to but would be faster and safer than both a car or a plane.)
They reached the roof and were greeted by the beautiful sight of Blackjack and Porkpie.
Hey, boss, Blackjack said. Ready to go?
"Just about," he said. After years of watching him communicate with various marine, aquatic, and equine animals, Annabeth didn't bat an eye, and they started packing stuff into the pegasi's saddle bags.
Since they didn't want to weigh down the horses too much, it was really just a couple days worth of clothes, water, and food. Oh, and the hellhound claw.
Percy wasn't really sure why he felt the need to bring it to New Rome instead of just leaving it in his cabin back at camp; he just did. If he was gonna have the nightmares anyway, he might as well keep the object in the same room as his bed. It would make him feel less pathetic to be haunted by something less than ten feet from him rather than something almost 3000 miles away.
Blackjack broke him from his thoughts. Don't think I didn't see those sugar cubes you just put in my saddle bags.
Percy chuckled. "The faster you get us to New Rome, the more you get."
If horses could look determined, Blackjack certainly did.
Hey, boss?
"No sugar cubes yet," he said.
Any chance you ordered another pegasus?
"What?" Percy looked away from the saddle bag he was zipping to follow his pegasus' line of sight and nearly started crying. A large, feathered animal was hurtling toward them. "Gryphon!"
Immediately, Annabeth abandoned her packing and ran forward with her drakon bone sword out in front of her. Percy went for Riptide in his pocket, somehow managed to twist his leg the wrong way, and pitched forward. The only thing keeping him from eating pavement was Blackjack's wing suddenly wrapped around him.
Whoa, boss, you good?
He reached out to steady himself on the horse's flank. "Yep, I'm good." When he looked up again, the gryphon was already gone, replaced by shimmering golden dust scattered across the dark roof and Annabeth herself.
And that was fine. It was perfectly fine, because he needed to learn to accept that sometimes life would be like this now. Even years down the line, when he was fully healed and done with physical therapy, he would have bad days.
But as he and Annabeth got up on their pegasi and prepared to leave, he felt the hellhound claw burning a hole in the pack near his knee, a reminder of how far he'd fallen.
-
A few weeks into the semester, about a month after getting back to New Rome, Percy had improved a lot, and that was coming from him. His physical therapist was amazing (though it often didn't feel that way), and he would absolutely cite her as responsible for any and all progress after leaving Will's care. He could throw a dagger and hit a target while moving, run the whole obstacle course at the New Rome training gym, and he was even working up to sparring with a human being...on good days. Today was not one of those days.
The fourth time Annabeth unconsciously moved ahead on the sidewalk, Percy bit back a groan. He really could not move any faster, nor were the stupid dress shoes he was wearing helping at all. His bad knee was getting stiffer and achier in its brace as is; plus, the temperature had dropped about ten degrees since the last time he'd been outside.
The fifth time, he really did groan. "Wise girl, could you slow down a little?" he asked.
She was already turning around to stop and look behind her. Even in his state, he could appreciate how the dark blue tulle of her dress belled out around her thighs and how the street light glinted off the fake silver jewels of the bodice. "Is it your knee? Do you need a break?"
He nodded, relieved that she knew exactly what was going on so that he didn't have to say anything, and she helped him limp over to lean against the side of a building. It was brick, hard and scratchy against his arm. "Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
"Right."
They stood there for a little longer before Annabeth moved away, and, instinctually, he went to follow her. That was a mistake. He nearly fell at the stiff pain in his knee.
"Percy!" Annabeth exclaimed, catching his shoulders. She pushed him back against the wall. "Don't move if it's gonna hurt."
He nodded, face burning, and bent his knee just enough that his foot wasn't touching the ground. This was how the rest of their lives would go, he supposed, her saving him when he pushed himself too hard. Honestly, though, that was nothing new, and he was already doing so much better. However, if anyone ever sent him another invite for a party for former praetors, he was declining immediately.
When she moved away this time, he stayed against the wall, and she kept a hand on his shoulder. A few feet away, a street light buzzed. "We're about seven blocks from home. Do you think you're good to do that, or do you want to call an Uber?"
Percy's first instinct was to say he was fine, let's keep going, but just putting his foot down sent a flash of pain through his knee. But they were also already over budget this month from having to buy a new couch. "I can walk, just go slow."
She nodded and took his hand, watching him like a hawk for any signs he was about to fall which didn't make him feel like an old man at all. He must have made some kind of face though, because she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
He looked up. "What?"
She bit her lip. "What if I carried you home?"
Honestly, that sounded great. He was tired, in pain, and really just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. Also, now he kinda wanted to know if Annabeth could carry him seven blocks, and she was looking at him in that way he'd come to recognize as her being especially careful not to upset him, the one that he saw so much after the accident. The one that was shy and worried, the one that he thought he would never have to see again after they'd been through so much together. Just like he didn't want her to ever be afraid of him, he also didn't want them to be shy around each other or worried the other would get mad over something that should be inconsequential, so he said, "Do you really think you can do it?"
As he expected, the shy look was immediately replaced with a determined one, the one she got when presented with a challenge: hands on her hips, bottom lip jutting out, eyes narrow but proud. He loved that one. "Get on my back, and you'll see."
Then, she turned around and crouched, obviously waiting for him to climb up. There was no stopping her now.
Two tentative hopping steps later, his arms were around her neck, and she gripped his thighs as she stood. "I told you."
He laughed. "Not so fast. We still have to get home."
Within seconds, she was off, practically leaving a dust trail behind her. Hugging her just a bit tighter, he let his head rest in her soft curls. "This is nice."
"Really?" she asked, not sounding one bit out of breath. "It's not, like, emasculating at all?" Her tone was even, but he could tell she was listening closely to his answer.
That was fine. He had nothing to say but the truth. "Are you kidding?" They turned a corner. "This is so sexy. I have the smartest, strongest girlfriend in the world."
She snorted. "That's what you better say."
They were silent for a few blocks, nothing but the sound of their breathing and the city around them. If he concentrated, he thought he could feel his pants scraping against swollen scar tissue, drawing out his red-gold blood, almost like his knee was still bandaged and healing, but he was probably just delusional from pain and stress. Yeah, that was it. 
Once the jostling of being carried became too much for his sore knee, he may have groaned a little into Annabeth's ear because she said, "Do you need me to stop?"
He really did kinda, but they only had two blocks left, and he'd walked through Tartarus for the gods' sake. "No, just keep going, please."
She did. He didn't miss the way she sped up a little, either, and within minutes, they were in front of their apartment building. He nearly started crying at the sight of the front steps.
"Can you get my keys out of my pocket?" Annabeth said. She went up the stairs slowly and evenly, but he could still feel it in his knee.
"Oh, yeah." Shifting his right leg, he reached into her front packet, then they both leaned forward so that he could unlock the door.
A few steps later, they were in the elevator. He tapped her arm. "Let me down."
She complied, and, using the shiny black wall, he slid off her back without letting his bad leg touch the ground. Then, he leaned against the back wall and let his head drop. He should have known PT and a party, not to mention his classes, would be too much for one day.
Annabeth grabbed his hand. "Almost home."
He breathed out a sigh.
"Hey," she said. He turned his head to look at her. "Three weeks ago, you would have considered this to be a really good day."
He didn't remember much from three weeks ago; it was all a bit of a pain and drug induced haze. Still, he knew she was right. She always was, and that thought carried him home. 
-
Not a week later, they ran into another monster, a hellhound, and this time, it was one of his daggers that took the killing shot. It felt like closure.
The stupid claw could suck it.
24 notes · View notes
timelesslords · 2 years
Note
9: why are you awake right now? 🫶🏻
send me prompts!
Annabeth’s eyes snapped open, the nightmare she’d been having abruptly cut short. She stared at her ceiling, giving herself a few seconds to adjust back to reality. She was in bed, in her and Percy’s apartment. And Percy was right next to her… except, as she rolled over, she realized he wasn’t.
Her heart rate immediately started to pick up again, even as she did her best to calm it. He’d probably just gotten up to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water or something. She could see light streaming out from under the bedroom door, so he had to be out there.
Still, she grabbed Riptide from Percy’s bedside table before she opened the door. 
She needn’t have bothered. The light was from the TV, and Percy was sitting on the couch in front of it, wrapped in a blanket, knees to his chest. He didn’t even seem to notice the door opening, at least not until Annabeth stepped into the room. 
“Why are you awake right now?” she asked. 
It was a stupid question, and they both knew it. Not in that she knew the answer, exactly— there were a dozen reasons why sleep might’ve escaped him tonight, and none of them were good. Really she was asking if he wanted to talk about it, but the half-shrug he gave seemed to answer that question in a very definitive no.
He wasn’t looking away from the TV either, which was muted and playing what looked to be a YouTube video of someone’s personal aquarium. Fish silently darted around the screen, throwing blue light and shadows over his face. 
“Want company?” Annabeth asked. Percy shook his head, but she could tell from the slight grimace on his face that he didn’t really mean it. 
“You should go back to sleep. You have work tomorrow,” he said. Annabeth took that to mean he did want company, but didn’t want to admit it. So she sat down on the couch next to him, sliding half his blanket over her lap. Percy sighed, giving her an exasperated look.
“Beth,” he said, “You have to be up in like four hours.”
“That’s why coffee exists,” Annabeth said. “What are we watching?” 
“Fish,” Percy said simply. He seemed to have accepted that Annabeth wasn’t leaving, because he scooted closer to her, their sides pressed together.
“Can you hear them?” Annabeth asked. She knew Percy could talk to most sealife, but she wasn’t sure if it worked through a screen or not. Percy shook his head. 
“Nah. I wish I could. Their tank looks kinda small.”
Times like these Annabeth wished they lived closer to the ocean. She loved New York, loved being close to Sally and Estelle, and she knew Percy loved the city, but sometimes she thought it might be easier to snap him out of these moods with a little salt water. 
“It is a lot of fish,” Annabeth agreed. They were bright and colorful, tropical looking. The camera didn’t show all of the tank, but they were darting in and out of frame enough that it couldn’t be much bigger than what was shown. 
Percy nodded listlessly. He looked tired, dark circles running under his eyes. Annabeth had thought he’d looked a little tired the past few days, but it was only seeing him now in the middle of the night that she realized just how exhausted he seemed.
“Have you not been sleeping all week?” Annabeth asked. Percy glanced over at her, a little guiltily. 
“On and off,” he admitted, sinking a little lower into the couch. 
“Percy, why didn’t you say anything?” Annabeth asked, trying not to sound too scolding, or too dismayed. He just shrugged, still staring at the TV.
“Didn’t want you to worry. Or keep you up with me.”
“Hey,” Annabeth said, nudging him with her elbow, “I wanna know these things. You don’t get to keep them from me because you don’t want me to worry.”
“Beth,” he sighed, but Annabeth wasn’t done.
“If I hadn’t slept a full night in a week you’d want me to tell you,” Annabeth insisted, “right?”
Percy grimaced, probably knowing he was trapped. “Yeah,” he admitted.
“So how is this any different?” she asked. 
“It’s not,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. Next time I will, promise.”
“Thank you,” Annabeth said, snuggling a little closer to him. He nodded, setting his head on her shoulder.
“You’re very pliable when you’re tired,” Annabeth noted, and she felt the short huff of laughter from him more than she heard it.
“You’re being mean,” he complained, “I’m sleep deprived and you’re bullying me.”
“Guess you’d better get some sleep then,” Annabeth said lightly. Percy just yawned, nodded. 
It wasn’t the most comfortable position Annabeth had ever slept in, but she didn’t care. Especially not when Percy’s breaths started to even out, his heart rate slowing and steadying. It was only when she was sure he was asleep against her shoulder that she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off again.
321 notes · View notes
opulentsquirtle · 2 years
Text
Daughter of War: Chapter 4
There are some games—Percy had learned the hard way, at a very young age—that he couldn’t win with his powers. Lupa had warned him— that the sea does not like to be restrained, and the blood of the oceans has to be kept under control, lest they drown out the entire world in its rage. It was the curse of being a demigod, having the powers of a god, and being made to live as a human.
Full chapter on AO3
57 notes · View notes
lemonadedino · 1 year
Text
ok so I wrote a percabeth immortality au where percy becomes a god at the end of the last olympian and annabeth becomes a hunter of artemis for funsies based off a ton on tiktoks I saw about the concept because I enjoy putting myself through the stress of writing a fanfic solely to satisfy my need for angst with a happy ending <3
oh and the title and vibe is based off closure by taylor swift because my inner swiftie will not allow me to write a single fic without having something to do with her
do with that what you will
20 notes · View notes
number-onekidqueen · 1 year
Text
𝐑𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Luke Castellan Masterlist
Percabeth
you're my lover
Godly Parent Headcanons
Hades Children
Apollo Children
Hermes Children
5 notes · View notes
demigods-posts · 2 months
Text
okay but no one holds a candle percy and annabeth because. percy 'having an anxiety attack at the idea of not having annabeth in my life' jackson. and annabeth 'shaking at the idea of losing percy to a prophecy' chase. like these two can't fathom the notion of being apart. and they're only fourteen.
2K notes · View notes
lex-feldz · 1 year
Link
Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan/Annabeth Chase, Percy jackson & Peyton Jackson Characters: Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, peyton jackson, Amphitrite (Percy Jackson), Poseidon (Percy Jackson), Sally Jackson (Percy Jackson), Paul Blofis Additional Tags: Trigger Warnings Galore, Suicide mentions, Sexual Assault, luke is a gross boy, he’s a deadass man, but he acts like a boy with how immature and gross he is, he’s the attacker, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, Percy is a good boy, Secret love, peyton doesn’t like it when their brother fucks their friends, peyton is my non-binary bestie, but theyre also Annabeth’s bestie, writing as i go so if chapters take a long time thats why Summary:
It had been an accident. Annabeth never meant to fall for her best friend’s brother, and yet… here she was.
(Big thank you to Matt— he doesn’t have an ao3 but he’s my right hand man these days 🥹)
1 note · View note
riordanverse-madness · 9 months
Text
So it's July 1st and you know what that means...
The Fall happend today 🫠
72 notes · View notes
bluegreykim · 2 months
Text
post-tartarus percabeth headcanons!
i am so abnormal about percabeth rn. tw for post-tartarus trauma exploration, unhealthy attachment. just some of my angsty character exploration. read with caution
after tartarus percy doesn't know what to do with himself, because by necessity his world has been finetuned to annabeth and what her survival means to the world. to him. he goes each day with shaking hands that only still when he is able to hold her, to touch her.
percy doesn't know how to talk to his mom anymore. sally does her best and bakes him endless blue cookies and homecooked warm meals and sits with him in the rain but he can't meet her eyes. how can he? how can he look his mother in the eye when he blames himself for causing so much pain?
percy doesn't care about college. he doesn't care about his life. the monsters are always there, and the paranoia settles into his skin like his organs have forgotten what clean, safe air feels like. he sleeps every night with annabeth shaking in his arms, one hand threaded through her hair and the other clutching riptide like his second lifeline. he almost lost his first, once. and he will never let that happen again.
annabeth knows this is unhealthy. somewhere in her head she knows athena is frowning down on them with disapproval, or maybe she understands. annabeth can't let percy out of her sight. she sees gorgons, fates, giants, titans, evil everywhere, and the shadow of it all clenches around her and all she has is percy. maybe athena understands, or maybe she is scared, too, of what annabeth has become. of what they have made each other.
they would each destroy worlds for the other, kill without a second thought at any mortal, monster, or god who dares step in between them. and they are terrified, but they know nothing else.
40 notes · View notes
thecasualauthor18 · 1 year
Text
I made a thing
I just love angst and Percabeth and I was listening to a song on youtube from "The Lightning Thief" musical and there was a comment on the video that inspired me.
So here it is:
Take The Weight (From My Shoulders)
Summary:
"She looked around, taking in the bed, neatly made. She looked at the desk, Daedalus's laptop sitting carefully atop it. A twinge of relief hit her. Evidently it hadn't been lost in the fall. A hairbrush lay on the sink, and her dresser drawers were all closed. No doubt if she opened them she would see her clothing, neatly folded and organized.
Overall, everything looked so... normal.
Normal.
Something about the word made her choke. Because this wasn't normal. None of it was.
Or: Annabeth has been fighting for so long, and she can't hold the weight of it all anymore"
22 notes · View notes