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Percy looked at Annabeth. He grabbed her hand tightly and turned his head towards the battlefield. Enemy forces and monsters lined up, excited, shouting in glee. He stepped forwards into the fray, gathering all of his strength. He had to win so that future generations of demigods could live in peace.
War. He hated it. Just loss of life and blood, full of hatred and fear. Other battles flashed before his eyes, those terrible, terrible memories filled his head, and for a moment he wasn't there, but in every other war and battle he'd ever fought, hundreds of demigods dead and injured. Visions of Tartarus, visions of Gaea, visions of Kronos flooded his head. He felt sick. He felt alone.
Memories filled his head. All his friends who died so that future demigods could finally be safe. Silena, Beckendorf, Zoe, Bianca, Michael, Ethan, Luke.
Percy charged forwards with riptide in hand ready to kill any monster in his way. Slice after Slice. Golden dust exploded into piles, scattering in the wind.
Percy was only vaguely aware of what was happening, to focused on avenging the ones that died for peace and all the pain that was inflicted on him. All the shouting, the screams, the gore, was all a blur to him. He was tired of it.
He was tired.
A sudden pit of dread embedded into his stomach. Something was terribly wrong. Part of his soul ripped from his heart.
He paused waiting, hoping he was wrong. Annabeth, his Wise Girl, couldn’t be gone.
Silence.
Voices ran through his head pleading him to start moving. But why what was the point. He had no reason to live anymore, his whole world was somewhere on the battlefield probably taking her last breath.
A nagging feeling tugged at his chest, a kind of weighted pressure, a piercing feeling that something was very wrong. He looked down at his chest, a long metal arrowhead struck through his chest, he felt the soft fletching and the sharp, jagged arrowhead, felt the warm celestial bronze shaft rapidly filling with blood. Poison filling his veins.
But the world did not wait for him to grieve himself, the world would never be kind enough to give him that mercy. Others death throes echoed around him, the screaming agony pained his ears, metal on metal screeched, but none of it mattered to him. He had to find her. He hoped he was wrong. He wanted to say goodbye before one of them passed.
He staggered through the fighting, desperately calling her name. He knew, deep down, he wouldn't find her, but he wouldn't leave without trying. She was all that mattered to him in this moment.
He felt his legs get heavier, he felt his voice go hoarse, felt the hole in his chest get all the more painful with each step he took, he felt salty, hot tears well in the corner of his eyes.
But what he could not have known, was that Annabeth, too, was screaming his name across the muddy field, that she too, was dying. All the two had was the promise of an afterlife, but once again, the pair wouldn't be so lucky. For, as Annabeth felt herself slipping away in a pool of blood that soaked ground, she thought of all the happy times she shared with her Seaweed Brain.
She waited in line to be judged, wondering where she would be sent, not knowing that soon the peaceful Isles of the Blessed would greet her.
Percy, felt himself slipping away. His legs gave out and it was all he could do to stop himself from crying. But why should he? He was a child, he'd been through so much, it'd been too much for him. He let the tears flow. Seven years of trauma, suffering, war and pain was seven years too many for him. He had every right to cry.
He curled himself up into a tight ball, the pain dimming, peace on the horizon, and strangely, he felt peaceful. He let his eyes close, and he drifted away, the smell of the salty sea and freshly baked cookies, the sounds of pain slowly fading, his breath slowed, and for the first time in many years, Percy felt true peace, save for the hole in his heart where his love should have been.
The dark but not cold hall of the underworld greeted him, but he couldn't find Annabeth. He was sure he would hear her voice in the crowd, but all he heard was strangers voices calling out for others. He felt sad. Sad for himself, sad for these others. Some he recognised, but he couldn't recall their names.
He was also only vaguely aware of where he was about to be sent. He knew he had chosen this but couldn’t remember when.
But when he woke up in a brightly lit room, swaddled in cloth and couldn't understand what anyone was saying, it
didn't matter to him anymore. Because he was safe. He tried to move his tiny limbs but only managed to feebly kick his short legs. He began to cry, a woman he felt himself drawn to trust, held him close in her warm, safe and comforting embrace, everything was okay.
He couldn't even remember why he was upset in the beginning.