Archive of Our Own ^beta

/

The marks appear for most people by age twelve. Or so they say.

Most people in camp have them, too: the first words their soulmate will tell them etched somewhere on their bodies in different intensities; the marks grow darker the closer you get. Most meet their soulmate between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, although it's not unheard of for things to go wrong. Things like people with really generic words, so that every person who says "hello" could be their soulmate, or people who finally hear their words and give their fated response, only to find out that their 'soulmate' has someone else's words on their body. Annabeth wonders if it's solely a demigod thing, but Piper, who visits the mortal world every summer, tells her that mortals have them, too; they just can't see them because of the Mist. The mortals who are lucky enough to actually meet their soulmate call it love at first sight.

Piper calls the feeling "tingly." Annabeth wouldn't know.

Her own marks appeared around her wrist shortly after her fourteenth birthday, materializing painlessly and completely out of the blue. Piper had shrieked "oh my gods!" breaking off mid-sentence to gawk down at where Annabeth's right hand grips her knife, and her own eyes flick down to see odd looking characters being scrawled into existence on her skin like a very ugly bracelet. Her supposed soulmate has terrible handwriting: it's all scribbly and it's hard to make out a single word. The soulmark itself is exceptionally light, blending in with her skin.

"Maybe he's dead," Annabeth had said, gazing at her wrist. Piper smacked her arm, squinting, intrigued, at the words.

"I think it says...how the hell do you even know that?" Piper murmured. "That's uh, interesting."

"Like yours are any better." Annabeth glanced at the back of Piper's hand, where the words here's your pencil are etched onto her bronze skin in the thick curly script Annabeth knows now to be Jason's.

She glances, now, at her own soulmark. The words, still a faint beige color, are deeper than any tattoo. Annabeth wonders if it is printed on her bones.

Her soulmate is probably very far away, she knows. Maybe he's an astronaut. Maybe he's on Mars right now. She kind of hopes he stays there.

Being a child of Athena, she's been taught to rely largely on logic her whole life. She needs the facts, and this whole "soulmate" thing is ridiculously ambiguous: typical of Aphrodite. Plus, finding your soulmate doesn't mean that you'll stay together. Tons of soulmates who rush into the whole 'being together forever' thing too quick end up getting divorced or living apart. It's not unheard of. And after Luke, Annabeth doesn't think she can take that kind of heartbreak.

The first soulmark she'd seen had belonged to her father. She'd been too young to read the words, but she remembers the handwriting near her father's elbow: thick and bold and elegant. It had belonged to the goddess Athena, and he'd loved her deeply, with something like a passion. And then she'd left without a word, as she'd done to countless others. It had broken him.

Soulmates had destroyed her father, had led him to become a shell of himself, an emotionless man who felt nothing for anyone anymore, least of all the child the goddess had left on his doorstep.

The gods are really shitty with the whole soulmate thing: they get new soulmarks that appear and disappear every two minutes. She knows this, and it's to be expected from them, but she's still a little bitter. Clearsighted mortals — like Luke's mom, and even Thalia's — couldn't handle the truth. Thalia's mom had drank her way to the grave. Luke's mom had gone completely insane. It's a reminder that things might not go your way, even if you're destined to meet your other half. It's a reminder she needs.

Even so, Annabeth has practically grown up surrounded by stories of soulmates, and it's hard to ignore the darkening soulmarks on people's limbs. From the moment her dad refused to indulge her curiosity about his strange tattoos, Annabeth spent every spare moment learning about them for herself. She's read every soulmate book in the camp library and has asked every Aphrodite camper. She is an expert, but she'd never admit out loud to having an interest in so vague and irrational a topic.

But more than that—she's sixteen years old and she's had the words tattooed on her forearm for the last two years, four months, and five days.

Something has gone wrong.

Everyone else she knows has had some change, some indication. Silena had said she'd felt uncharacteristically nervous for a whole week before Beckendorf had arrived at camp. Clarisse, who'd grown up with Chris, said her marks had darkened when they were twelve. Piper had helpfully added, "It's a nice feeling — all thrilling and goosebump-y."

Annabeth's soulmark has stayed the same boring peach color since it's appearance, and she's felt no kind of soulmate 'awakening'. She tries not to care.

She looks at the marks, now. Maybe it's her imagination, maybe it's because of the soft sunlight that's streaming in through a gap in the curtains, but she thinks she can see the words better. How the hell do you even know that?  She sighs and closes her eyes.

Annabeth wakes up with a start as the door to her cabin bangs shut. She blinks, suddenly blinded. The sunlight is brighter and she can hear the Apollo cabin leaving for their usual morning archery practice. It's her cue to get up; a few of her siblings are up already, stretching and yawning.

It's only when she's reaching for her dagger under the pillow when she sees it. Really sees it. Her soulmark.

It's darker. It's definitely darker. It's a more visible shade of brown, like wet sand on the beach.

A dozen thoughts fill her mind at once. Most are of panic, that the astronaut is back on Earth once more, but somewhere, if she decides to delve deep enough, she knows she will find relief, maybe even joy. Which is illogical, and stupid, but there's a smile threatening to break out and she needs to actually cover her face with her hands. She glances at the marks again, which seem to actually be getting darker by the second. She can read the words better now, and the handwriting is even worse than she'd thought.

Annabeth doesn't even care who sees her— her heart is throbbing and there is a weird feeling building up in her chest —she lies on her back and laughs silently. Maybe she's going insane.

She forces the smile down, then stretches and leaves her cabin, heading straight for Piper's to confirm her suspicions. She doesn't strike her as odd when she sees how there are already some campers milling around the cabin, and how people are talking in hushed whispers, glancing back at Cabin One. It only hits her when she's pushed her way into the perfumed Aphrodite cabin's center, only to see Piper surrounded by a circle of friends and half-siblings.

Piper is in tears. She catches sight of Annabeth pushing her way to her, and her lower lip wobbles dangerously. She raises her hand at Annabeth, but not in greeting. She turns her palm over, and Annabeth looks blankly at Piper's soulmark, which she's seen a dozen times before, before she notices the difference and feels a gasp rising in her throat.

Her friend's soulmark is lighter. She's never seen or heard of anything like this before; the books she'd read had all had the same fundamental principle. Soulmarks get darker the closer you get to meeting your soulmate, after which the marks never fade again, unless you fall out of love. Distance doesn't matter.

Piper and Jason had most definitely been in love. Annabeth even remembers them seeing them cuddling at the campfire the previous night.

"What happened?" Annabeth, suddenly hyperaware of her own slightly-darker mark on her wrist, gestures to Piper's soulmark, where Jason's bold print is now a faint tan color. "Did you two fight or something?"

"No," Piper whispers. "He's gone."

/

There still aren't any new leads after a week of searching. Piper's soulmark is beige, standing out on her darker skin, and she's losing sleep looking for her boyfriend. Annabeth's mark is growing darker by the day. They don't really talk about it.

Annabeth wants to find Jason, too, for her own reasons. He'd acted as co-leader of Camp Half-Blood, and he'd been reliable, trustworthy. It had been good to have a partner with a good head on his shoulders. And it hurts to see Piper so broken. But every time she tries to think, to give orders, there's a searing pain in her head, and her wrist begins to throb. The mark is darker than ever, and it hurts to look at it. She feels weird these days, constantly nauseous and queasy. There's a cold chill that's constantly running down her spine, and it makes it harder to concentrate. It's so frustrating, because she knows that now, more than ever, her campmates are counting on her to use her brains and get Jason back.

The cabin leaders have nothing new to report to Chiron that evening.

"Our satyrs have looked everywhere," confesses Miranda Gardiner. "It..it's like..." She glances quickly at Piper, then at the floor.

Piper's expression is vacant. "Just say it."

Miranda looks ashamed. "It's like he's...ceased to exist. Like he's just vanished into nothing. But that makes no sense."

Piper closes her eyes. Her eyebrows quiver like she's trying not to cry. Everyone avoids each other's gaze. Annabeth keeps her eyes on the table. Nobody says how true Miranda's statement sounds. Because it feels like they've done everything: they've sent out satyr, dryad, and naiad scouts, Leo's made a bunch of automaton birds with long-range vision, programmed to identify Jason, Nico's asked a bunch of spirits to keep an eye out, and they've sent Iris Messages to the Hunters and other allies all over the country. Nobody's come up with anything yet, even though Thalia, driven mad with worry, had nearly covered half of the nation in the search for her brother.

The only problem is that the gods aren't responding to any prayers. Mr. D had been recalled to Olympus shortly after Jason's disappearance, and no contact had been made with Olympus ever since. Annabeth looks at Chiron, and he shakes his head as if he knows what she's wondering.

"Adjourned for now," the centaur says sternly. "We'll continue the search tomorrow. Grover says he's on the way with a powerful half-blood. Perhaps he's seen something. We'll send out more scouts. We aren't going to give up now, so don't worry, Piper."

Everyone stands and begins to file out of the door wearily, except for Piper, who stares at the wall opposite her. Leo looks uncomfortable — he has never learnt how to deal with tears — still, he takes a step forward like he wants to stay, too, but Annabeth signals for him to leave.

She crosses the room and sits down next to her, touching her hand gingerly. She sees Jason's handwriting on her skin, and feels, once more, a surge of guilt as she glances at her own mark. One thing she's sure of is that she's got something to do with whatever's going on. There aren't many coincidences in their world, and the fact that Piper's marks have begun to recede while Annabeth's began to shine cannot be by chance.

She remembers how happy Piper had been with Jason. She remembers Piper describing how they'd first met in high school. How a monster had attacked during their final exam, and Piper and Jason had been escorted to camp. They'd gone on several quests together. Jason had turned sixteen, as per the prophecy, and despite all odds, he'd survived, and he and Piper had started dating the day the war ended. There aren't a lot of couples that make Annabeth believe in love, but Piper and Jason are one of the exceptions. Seeing them so happy gives her hope, somehow. And they really do deserve, more than anyone, to be happy.

"We'll find him," she says, with more confidence than she feels.

"I..." Piper looks on the verge of tears, the same way she's looked all week. She's been keeping track of how much time has passed since Jason's disappearance, Annabeth knows, right down to the second.

Annabeth squeezes her hand. "We will."

"Ceased to exist," Piper remembers. "But...he was here. We knew him."

"Look, this is just some god pulling some bullshit," Annabeth says. We'll get him back."

"I thought it'd be over after the Titan War," her friend mumbles. "I wanted a break. I wanted to just...be with him."

Well. There's nothing, really, to say to that, because Annabeth had thought that the Titan War would have been the last of all the shit piling up on her plate, too. The war had been hard on all of them, and they'd lost so many good people. She'd wanted a break, too, a break to make her stop her thinking about Luke, who hadn't been her soulmate, but whom she'd loved anyway. At least Piper and Jason had managed to find some happiness in all the mess.

"This sucks," Piper says.

"It does," Annabeth replies.

She releases Piper's hand, choosing instead to focus of quelling the unease inside her. She knows she ought to say something encouraging, but nothing comes to mind. Her eyes keep fluttering shut, and the cold feeling is back. Plus, there's a weird feeling building in her chest, and, even though she's too scared to admit it, she somehow knows what's coming. Who's coming.

She isn't ready.

/

Annabeth can't sleep that night. She spends her break tossing and turning in her bed, trying to ignore the pain.

She can't place it, but it feels like it's originating from her wrist and spreading out to the rest of her, like earthquake tremors. And it's not pain, not exactly. More like her pulse has been amplified, so there's a weird buzzing in her ears.

Unable to stay still, she glances at her watch: it's four in the morning and the dawn sky is grey like iron ore, but she walks outside the cabin, where she spies Piper near hers, talking to a couple of dryads. Annabeth joins her, choosing not to dwell on how Piper's eyes dart immediately to Annabeth's soulmark —now a chocolate-y brown— before resting on her face.

"Anything?" Annabeth asks.

"Nope." Piper sighs, then turns to the nymphs half-heartedly. "Keep trying to get contact with Hedge. And check with your sisters to see if any of the minor gods have been seen recently." The dryads nod and scatter.

Piper sits down heavily on the cabin stairs. Annabeth moves next to her. They both are silent for a while, listening to the ocean and sniffing the faint scent of strawberries.

"What the hell is going on?" Piper asks.

"I dunno." Annabeth picks at the wooden railing. "I'd thought, at first, that he'd gone on a secret mission or something, but this seems...way more than that. None of the gods are contacting us, and our satyrs are saying that monsters are getting harder to kill. Something big is happening."

"Something the gods aren't telling us." Piper's voice is harsh.

"This wouldn't be the first time," Annabeth replies. Her hand forms a fist. "I guess we shouldn't be surprised anymore. I really did think things would change after Jason made them swear to stay involved after the Titan War."

"You don't think the-they eliminated him? Jason, I mean?" The daughter of Aphrodite says in a soft voice. Her eyes are wide. "It wouldn't be the first time the gods got, like, annoyed at a hero, or something, and decided to...off him."

"Woah." Annabeth grasps Piper's hand and turns it over so that they can both see the pale words on her skin. "If he was dead, the marks would disappear completely, right? He's out there somewhere...just...something is stopping us from finding him."

"The thing is, once you find your soulmate, the marks aren't supposed to fade at all, so you're right. He's being kept from me, which is almost worse." Piper traces each letter with her finger. She nods at Annabeth's wrist kind of resentfully. "Guess the big day is near for you, huh?"

"Don't," Annabeth winces, and Piper lets out a small laugh. It's good to hear, and it gives her a little happiness to know that her friend doesn't blame her for everything that's been going on.

"Let it happen," her friend advises. "Trying to avoid it will make it worse. Ask Nico."

Annabeth snorts. "Sure," she says sarcastically, nudging Piper with her elbow, and that's when they hear the scream for help.

Piper shoots to her feet and runs for Half-Blood Hill; Annabeth knows what she's hoping she'll find, even though the voice hadn't sounded anything like Jason's. Annabeth follows a few paces behind. She can hear Chiron and a few other campers right behind them: Chiron gallops past her easily, then lifts Piper onto his back without breaking stride.

Annabeth stops when she reaches Thalia's Pine, and she rests her hand on the trunk, panting hard. The guardian dragon glances at them curiously.

The sight below takes the rest of her breath away.

"Shit," Will Solace whispers, running up behind her. "Thats..."

"The Minotaur," Annabeth says.

"Oh my gods," Piper says, sliding off Chiron's back. She glances at the dark-haired demigod on the ground, and then up at the centaur, who looks just as shocked. "Should we..."

Chiron has no time to reply: at the foot of the hill, the guy gets to his feet and charges. He's wounded, and his first few steps are a little unsteady, but he is still fast, and there's a weapon in his hands, a bronze blade that makes Chiron's eyes widen. He slashes with it, even though he's too far from the monster to strike, but, incredibly, a jet of water condenses out of the air, forming another blade that mimics the demigod's. He leaps out of the way just as the Minotaur darts forward. Then he jumps, twists in midair, and lands on the beast's back just as the sword of water vapor hits it through the chest.

The Minotaur bellows in rage and pain, doubling over. The guy, still on top of the Minotaur's back, lifts his sword high into the air, and then cleanly slices off one of it's horns. He vaults to the ground, hid movements ridiculously fluid, and, as the Minotaur tries to advance on him, he neatly sidesteps a flailing arm and drives the horn into the monster's ribs.

The monster groans and turns to dust, rising up with the wind.

The guy collapses to his knees, breathing hard. He raises an arm, and Annabeth suddenly notices Grover on the ground halfway up the hill. He's encased in a thin cocoon of mist, but the guy flicks his wrist, and the barrier evaporates. He tries to stand, but falls facefirst into the grass, groaning.

Everyone snaps out of it.

The Apollo campers rush down the hill; half stop to lift Grover, who doesn't seem too seriously injured, while the rest head for the guy.

Annabeth realizes her mouth is still wide open, and she closes it quickly. Her hands are trembling, and she stares at them, trying to make them stop, only now her eyes keep darting back to the mystery demigod for reasons unknown, and she's being pretty obvious about it, too.

"He...he held up that water vapor barrier to keep Grover safe the whole time he fought the Minotaur," she says to Chiron, inhaling sharply. "The concentration he would've needed for that—"

Piper's eyes have a little light in them. "Do you think he's connected to whatever's happening?"

"Probably," Chiron says. "Let's get him treated first." He watches as Will and a few others pass them, supporting Grover. The satyr's eyes are closed, but he's murmuring stuff about food and monsters, which is a good sign.

The next group, carrying the guy, head up the hill. The guy has a scar down his arm and his hair is black as shadow; she sees writing on the inside of his wrist. His neck and shoulder is bloody, his purple shirt is ripped, and he has another tattoo, too, a trident on his arm, which can only mean one thing. The pounding against her ribs grows louder.

"He's not too badly hurt, or at least not as bad as I expected," one of the medics inform Chiron. "But..."

"Urrgghhh," the guy moans. He tries to lift his head, and Annabeth catches a flash of the brightest green. She wants to run, but her feet seem rooted to the spot. Her palms are getting sweaty, her breathing is becoming forced, and there is bile rising in her throat.

"Get him to the infirmary," their teacher mutters.

No, Annabeth wants to scream, get him as far away from me as possible, but she only moves aside, resting her back against the trunk of the Pine, to let the campers pass.

Chiron and Piper begin to follow, but Annabeth feels her legs giving way. Then she is on her knees, the Golden Fleece glittering above her. Peleus the dragon sniffs at her anxiously.

"Fuck," she whispers.

/

Annabeth hides for the next three days.

Feeling extremely guilty as she does so, she tells Malcolm, her second-in-command, to tell Chiron and Piper that she's sick, which isn't entirely false, okay. She's been sweating, her legs can't stop shaking, and she's definitely feverish. Her soulmark has been hurting too, sending small stabs of pain rippling through her body. She needs rest, and time, and...ugh. She needs answers.

There are rumors flying across camp, now, about the mystery demigod who'd shown up at the borders of camp with strange marks on his arm, holding the horn of the Minotaur. She hears her half-siblings gush about it before bedtime: "I heard he defeated the Furies!" "I heard he defeated Medusa!" and it makes her want to groan.

It's nearly midnight, and she can't sleep again. There is a searing pain across her wrist, and she can't stand it anymore.

She grabs her Yankees cap from her beside table, puts it on, and slowly lifts the closest window open. She clambers through and drops to the ground before padding her way softly to the infirmary.

The building is dimly lit, and Annabeth peers through an open window. There aren't any medics around, although she's sure one will arrive soon. The dark-haired guy is the only one inside: he's lying on a bed not too far from her. Annabeth carefully lifts herself inside.

It's toasty warm inside, and the air smells like marshmallows, the kind they have at the campfire every day. Annabeth takes off her cap and stuffs it into a pocket as she approaches the sleeping demigod.

The thing is: the stranger is tall, slender and stupidly handsome. He has the most ridiculous hair Annabeth has ever seen – it looks like he put a small black rooster on his head – but it somehow suits him. Close to, Annabeth sees that his skin is pale from the loss of blood. His shoulder is bandaged, and there is a terrible pink scar on his neck. Countless band-aids cover his cheeks and arms. He's still wearing that purple t-shirt, and the sight makes her shudder in discomfort as her eyes pass over it, although she doesn't know why. There are a couple of freckles peppered across his nose. His black hair is long, nearly covering his eyes, and, as though she can't help it, she brushes it away from his forehead.

This shouldn't feel so natural.

It irks her how her heartbeat is racing, how she apparently can't keep from touching him. But it's odd: something about him is familiar, yet foreign. She's never been so in the dark about, well... anything, before, and she doesn't like it.

Then she sees the tattoo, a black trident on his bicep, the letters SPQR, and four straight lines just below it, like Roman numerals. Again, as if by itself, her hand reaches out and touches it. He twitches, and she jerks away quickly, letting her arm fall to her side again.

She has to shake her head to clear her thoughts. This is ridiculous. She's being drawn to someone she doesn't even know.

Actually, why is she even here?

Heat floods her cheeks, and she wonders what the hell she'd been thinking when she got out of bed and sneaked away. She clearly hadn't thought this through: her fever must have messed with her head.

Only, Annabeth feels fine now. Her heart is still pounding, but it's not the same as it had been racing the past week: now it's pumping more because of anticipation than horror. She looks at her hands: they are steady. Her legs are supporting her just fine now, too, and she's breathing easier than she has in a long time.

Her soulmark is ebony: she stares at it, feeling dizzy.

Slowly, she reaches for the guy's hand again. She can see some of the words printed on his wrist already. They're on his right hand, same as her, and jet black, the same color as his hair. There is blood rushing in her ears. She isn't entirely sure what she is aiming to do, but if she's right about this, then maybe...maybe she can read the words on his hand and then, like, never say them, ever.

She touches his wrist gingerly. He doesn't move. She turns his hand over, forgetting, in her excitement and haste, to be gentle.

His eyes fly open, and she slaps the Yankees cap onto her head in an instant, disappearing from sight.

/

Annabeth shows up for breakfast even though her chest feels like it's full of lead.

Piper rushes to her immediately. "Did you hear? The guy's awake! Chiron says we can go talk to him after this."

"Good for him," Ananbeth mutters.

Piper eyes her worriedly. "Is your fever better?"

"Yeah." She shoves toast into her mouth. "All cured now."

"Can we walk and eat?" Piper asks hopefully, taking a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. "I wanna ask the guy questions before he forgets anything."

"Uh, sure." Annabeth wonders if Piper had laced a little charmspeak in her words, because her friend smiles a little too brightly as Annabeth rises, swallowing the last of her breakfast.

They walk to the infirmary, Piper taking deep breaths the whole way. "I hope he knows something. I really hope he knows something..."

They're about a yard away from the building when the door swings open. Annabeth takes a step backward, her cheeks coloring, but Piper rushes forward, stopping only when she sees Chiron in his wheelchair.

"Wha—?" Piper begins, but then Grover walks out, supporting the guy with one arm. His eyes are open, and he squints at the bright sunlight, using his free arm to brush his hair out of his eyes.

Chiron nods at the guy. "Piper, this is Percy Jackson. My dear, I'm sorry, but we questioned him, and it seems as though..."

He stops, because Percy's just let out a small, sharp gasp...and he's looking right at Annabeth.

Tingly, Piper had described the sensation as, but it's not like that at all. The feeling is electric, sending shivers down her spine. Currents travel up and down her body, bringing her to attention, rooting her feet to the spot. It's like she's been hit by Jason's lightning, and her hair is standing straight up: all her senses feel incredibly sharp, and she can feel each beat of her heart against her ribs, like the stupid organ has been waiting for this moment her whole life. A bubbly warmth starts in the pit of her stomach and then stretches everywhere, overwhelming her senses. A heat so absolute, without length or depth. Her mouth opens, but for once in her life she can't find anything to say. She can feel her face beginning to turn pink as little firecrackers blossom in her chest. Worst of all, there might actually be tears threatening to fall.

It takes every ounce of her strength to force herself back to something like normalcy, to not run to him, to not reach out and touch his hair the way she'd done the previous night. She forces her fingers to curl up into fists, bites her tongue in the hope that pain will snap her back to normal.

The guy is in just as bad a condition as she is, which is a little comforting. He's gripping Grover's shoulder so tight the satyr's face is turning scarlet from the pain, and his mouth has fallen open. His surprised face doesn't look half-bad, she admits somewhere deep down, but he is taking short, ragged breaths like he's just run ten miles and just blinks at her, his eyes comically wide, seemingly unaware of how Piper and Chiron are staring back and forth between the two of them curiously.

Annabeth musters all her courage. "Wipe your chin," she snaps rudely. "You drool in your sleep."

He finds his voice at last. He points a shaking finger at her, his voice ragged. "How the hell do you even know that?"

Piper lets out an audible gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. Of course she'd know the words at once; she's read them on Annabeth's wrist a million times, she'd often dreamed up ridiculously far-fetched scenarios about Annabeth meeting her soulmate for the first time. "Oh my gods," she whispers.

Annabeth wants to die.

/

"What do you mean, he's got amnesia?" Piper snaps, banging her fist on the table.

"Exactly that," says Chiron calmly. "He's not lying, either. All he knows is his name, but it looks like he's not new to our world. The orientation video didn't surprise him at all, and he's already got a weapon."

"And by the gods, he knows how to use it, too," Will tells everyone, his eyes wide. "You should've seen him. He was like—"

"How do we know he's not lying?" Piper demands.

"Clovis?" Chiron asks tiredly. Across from him, Connor Stoll nudges Clovis, the head of Hypnos Cabin, who awakens with a small grunt.

"What?" Clovis asks.

"Well? How do we know he isn't lying?" Piper repeats. "The new guy. About his memories."

"Oh, yeah..." Clovis yawns. "Yeah, I checked. It's...true. His memories aren't there. They've been hidden. Taken."

"By who?" Leo asks.

"Who else?" Piper says. "A god. They're the only ones with that kind of power." She glances at Clovis for a confirmation, but he has fallen asleep again. Piper looks to her instead, and Annabeth nods in agreement.

"But why? And what's this got to do with Jason?" Leo asks. Everyone turns to Chiron, but he only sighs.

"I think things will be explained at the campfire," he says. "We owe the rest of camp an explanation of some sort, and Percy will be claimed. Perhaps even..."

"I don't think the claiming is necessary," Will snorts.

"Nevertheless, we'll consult the Oracle," Chiron continues. "Go inform your cabins that curfew is extended tonight. And..." he glances at Annabeth with something like sympathy. "Annabeth, Piper, stay behind for a minute."

When everybody has left, Chiron turns to Annabeth. "First things first, we have to get him accustomed to camp. Annabeth, starting tomorrow, you'll teach him Greek. Show him the ropes."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"As Athena's counselor, I assumed you'd be the most qualified to do so. Is there a problem?" Chiron asks. There is a gleam in his eye.

"Yes!" she explodes. "I'm not teaching him Greek, I'm not teaching him anything, I'm gonna stay as far away from him as possible. If I'm right about his parentage, and I'm sure that I am, I'm literally supposed to hate him."

"You're the best we've got," Chiron says cheerily. "For now, we just need information, and you can probably get enough. Just try for a day or two. If you really can't stand it, we'll get someone else to do it."

"You're evil," Annabeth grumbles.

"And, Piper..." The centaur turns to the sullen girl beside her. "Don't try to charmspeak answers out of him, because this is magic we know nothing about. And..." he smiles. "Try to keep Annabeth from murdering him during sword practice."

He leaves, smiling smugly, and it's no surprise that the two girls are in a bad mood by the time they all gather for the campfire. Annabeth doesn't see the new guy at dinner, which is a good thing, because she might've ended up strangling him with her spaghetti.

"I'll murder him myself," Piper grumbles. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Annabeth replies.

"Ughhh," her friend groans. "I mean, it's not his fault, I guess, but—"

"There's no one else to blame," Annabeth shrugs.

Piper runs a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. For me. For Jason. For the new guy. And you, too, kinda." She looks at Annabeth with something like guilt. "I mean, he's your soulmate. I'm supposed to be happy for you, but I...can't. I can't bring myself to like him just yet. I'm sorry. I feel like a shit friend."

"Well, I don't like him either," Annabeth snorts, and Piper looks at her gratefully.

They take their seats as far away from the fire as possible, but she can still feel the warmth of the flames. Today is a good day: everyone is in a good mood, and the flames are rising higher and higher, giving off multicolored sparks that rise info the air like weightless diamonds. Annabeth spies Percy near the front with Grover and Leo, and looks quickly away, but then looks back again. Being new, the songs might've seemed weird to him, but he's still smiling with the rest of the camp, tapping his feet. He stares up at the flames, which are turning green, now, with awe.

When the singing stops, Chiron canters up to the front.

"First things first," he says, "We have a new camper. Percy?"

Percy stands. His eyes glow in the firelight and he smiles awkwardly, raising a hand. Annabeth's pretty sure she sees Drew blowing him a kiss. Always the flirt, even though the pretty Asian girl has a soulmark around her ankle.

"Parentage?" someone calls.

"He made a sword out of water and there's a trident on his arm," someone responds, "so obviously it's Zeus." Everyone laughs.

"All right," Chiron smiles, "but we'll need a confirmation—"

"Powers!" someone yells from Hermes Cabin.

"Oh, no," Chiron murmurs, but the rest of the camp has taken up the chant: "Powers! Powers!" The people behind Percy force him to stand, and there's an outburst of clapping.

"Uhh, okay, I'll do what I can," Percy says uncomfortably. He closes his eyes, holds out his hands. Nothing happens at first, but then something does.

Annabeth feels her eyes widen, but everyone else bursts into giggles.

"Niiiiice," says Sherman from Ares. More laughter. Annabeth can't take it any more, and she shoots to her feet. "Shut up! Can't you hear it?"

Everyone shuts up. All they can hear is the fire, crackling softly, and the sound of monsters and nymphs in the woods. There isn't even a breeze. Piper's staring up at her in confusion.

"I don't hear anything," Drew says, standing up, too, and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Maybe, like, your ears are busted, or—"

"You really are an idiot," Annabeth snaps. "We're a yard from the beach, and we can't hear the waves." She points at Percy, whose eyes are still closed, but now, there's a small smile on his face. "He stopped them."

The flames rise higher, turning dark, as everyone drinks this in. Percy opens his eyes and lets his hands drop back to his sides. There's a loud crash as the water he'd been holding back crashes down onto the sand, and then everyone is screaming.

"Calm down!" Chiron tries, but nobody listens; then there's a flash of green light and it's silent again.

Above Percy's head spins a green trident, illuminating his face. The trident makes his eyes glimmer, and he's staring at her. He tilts his head slightly to the right, like he's thanking her. Her ears burn and she drops her gaze: a thank you is the last thing she wants, least of all from him.

Everyone kneels around her, and Piper tugs Annabeth down, too.

"This is what I meant by confirmation," Chiron mutters. Then, in a louder voice: "Poseidon. Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail Percy Jackson, son of the sea god."

/

He's waiting for her at the Big House next morning.

Annabeth doesn't know what to think as she comes to a stop in front of him; he winces as he stands, clutching his elbow like it's still hurting him. He's an inch or so taller than her, which makes her even more uncomfortable; she's not used to looking up to people. His hair lifts slightly in the morning breeze, and, close to, she can smell the sea on him, something she hadn't noticed the night she's sneaked into the infirmary. The thought makes her cheeks turn pink.

"Uh, hi," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm, um, Percy—"

"I know who you are." She avoids his eyes, looks straight through him.

At least he gets the hint; he takes a small step backward. "Chiron told me you'd be showing me around, and teaching about about the gods and stuff," he says cautiously.

"Chiron told me you already knew stuff, son of Poseidon," she replies easily, enjoying the way he squirms.

"Neptune," he murmurs at once, as if it's a reflex.

"Huh?"

He glances at her confusedly. "I-I don't know. Saying Poseidon...felt wrong, somehow. Isn't Neptune the god of the seas?"

"He's the Roman god of the seas," Annabeth says irritably, sure that she feels a vein popping on her neck as her annoyance grows, just like her regret for accepting this stupid job. Something about him irks her: maybe it's the fact that he's still wearing the torn purple shirt, maybe it's he fact that his father is her mom's enemy, maybe it's his blank expression, or maybe it's the marks on his hand.

"So who's your dad?" he asks.

"Mom." She knows his question is innocent, but she still raises an eyebrow at how sexist it had sounded. "Athena, goddess of wisdom and battle strategy."

"Weird," he says, kicking at the sand.

"Why?" Annabeth snaps. "You just assume the male god has to find a mortal attractive, and not the other way around? How sexist is that?"

"Not what I meant," he amends, holding up his hands. "I...just don't know what I did mean, though." He shoves his hands in his pockets, and Annabeth notices that he's holding a ballpoint pen. "So I'm a son of Neptune?"

"Poseidon," she says again, trying not to roll her eyes. "Neptune is his Roman form, but they're more or less the same, really, even though the Greek gods came first."

"Form?" His eyes widen. "Like Jupiter? Venus? Pluto?"

"Zeus, Aphrodite, and Hades," she says easily. She stares at him suspiciously. "How do you know this stuff?"

His hand touches his head, presses. "I told you, I don't know. It's weird. I just know my name...and I know that this stuff is...real. Even though my first instincts scream for me to run away from this crazy place."

"You're not new to being a demigod," Annabeth decides. "The way you fought, too...you moved differently, not how we've been taught." She removes her own dagger from her belt and twirls it in her hand. His eyes rest on her, so she concentrates on her shoes.

"Come on," she says finally. "I'll show you the cabins. You'll be in Three from now on, anyway." She turns and begins to walk away; he limps slightly as he catches up.

"Do you know any Greek?" she asks.

"Don't think so."

"Most demigods have it wired into them," she explains, "so it should come naturally. Try translating this for me." She begins to recite the first thing that pops into her head, which, in this case, is the Second Great Prophecy that Rachel had predicted the day the Titan War ended. "Seven half-bloods shall answer the call, to storm or fire, the world must fall—"

"Ut cum spiritu postrema dejuremus," says Percy automatically. "Et hostes ornamenta addent ad ianuam necern."

She blinks at him for a whole minute, trying to find her voice. "I asked for Greek. Not Latin." At his baffled expression, she presses, "You just completed the prophecy I was reciting. In Latin. You've heard of it? From where?"

He closes his eyes. "Look, I-I don't know how, but it sounded so familiar."

"And your tattoo," she says, ignoring him. He raises an eyebrow and turns his arm to hers, lifting his hand slightly, and she realizes, with a jolt, that he thinks that she's referring to his soulmark, not the other tattoo with the letters. She curses Aphrodite under her breath for screwing up her life.

She points at the right one quickly, deciding against physical contact. "SPQR...that stands for Senatus Populusque Romanus, the Roman motto. Your shirt is purple, not orange. You know about the Roman forms of the gods, not the Greek, and you speak Latin." She gazes at him, trying to dismiss the fact that her soulmark is smarting and his eyes look really glittery in the morning light. "I'm taking you to Chiron after this," she tells him, turning away.

He mistakes her embarrassment for frustration, but she has to admit she's feeling plenty of that, too.

"I'm sorry," he says helplessly. "I wish I could remember something, I know that some important guy from here is missing, and I know that I've got something to do with this...it's just...everything here..." he gestures around camp, staring at the beach, the campfire, the other demigods milling around, with a frown on his face. "It all feels so wrong."

She stares. How can Camp Half-Blood feel wrong to anyone, even if he is a complete idiot with amnesia? With the strawberry fields, the beach, the campfire, the sing-alongs? "This is the only safe haven for demigods in the country," she says defensively, feeling her hands form fists. "For most of us, it's the only home we've got."

He doesn't reply, only twirls the ballpoint pen in his fingers.

She sighs. "Look, I'll show you to your cabin. Maybe it won't feel so wrong there."

She leads him to the ring of cabins, with the now-empty Zeus cabin at the head. She passes it, then Hera's, and is pointing distastefully at Cabin Three when she notices that Percy isn't behind her. He's lingering in front of Hera Cabin, watching the peacock statues in the doorway with an air of fear.

"Dude, your cabin's the next one," she says.

He ignores her. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She approaches him from behind, and stands close enough to smell his distinctly oceanic scent. "It's nothing. This cabin's empty, we built it for more of an honorary purpose. Let's go."

"There-there's a voice in my head," he says in a strangled voice. His fingers press against his scalp.

"Percy?" she asks, but, as he's turning to her, his knees give way and he topples backward; Annabeth tries to move away but finds herself trapped under him, his eyes shut, his forehead beaded with sweat, his lips a hair from hers.

/

"The queen of the gods has been taken," Chiron admits to them at the campfire that night. It's deathly quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the familiar sound of the tides.

"How do you know?" someone asks.

"Percy had a vision," Chiron says, and he turns to Percy, who nods, then stands uneasily. "I...I heard a voice when I was in Juno's cabin today. It was female, and she was yelling at me to free her from a cage."

"Juno?" Leo asks, staring at the flames, which are unusually dim tonight.

"That's Hera's Roman name," supplies Malcolm, not too far from where she's sitting. "But why'd he call her that?"

"There's a lot that is not clear at the moment," says Chiron. "But we need a quest to free Hera before we can do anything else. I fear Jason's disappearance is also connected to this." He turns to Percy. "One thing is clear: Queen Hera wants you on this quest. You can choose two companions, and you must leave at the earliest. Evil things are stirring, and if what I fear is true..." He glances quickly at Annabeth, who nods glumly back; she's begun to suspect the same things.

"Report to me in the morning," Chiron tells Percy. To the rest of them, he says: "We've got to stay safe. We're due for some new news tomorrow from our scouts; but now, curfew."

He motions for Annabeth, Piper, and Leo to stay back, so they linger close to the flames, trying to get some warmth. Percy sits with his head in his hands, looking up only when Chiron canters over after making sure that they're alone.

Piper stands up. "I can't go. Leo and I are going to go search for Jason. I-I know he's been taken, but I need to do this." She glances quickly at Percy, who doesn't protest. Annabeth knows that Piper, even though she now knows Percy's not at fault for Jason's disappearance, would rather go looking herself than go on a quest to save Hera, who had never liked her boyfriend.

The centaur only sighs, like he'd expected this; he glances at Leo, who nods in confirmation.

"And what of the dragon?" Chiron asks.

Leo wrings his fingers together, unconsciously creating and dousing a small tongue of flame. Percy stares at it, transfixed, his eyebrows furrowing.

"He's under control for now," Leo says, "so we'll take him with us tomorrow, and meet Hedge at the rendezvous point. We'll leave early."

"All right." Chiron turns to Percy, who makes no attempt to hide his worry. "You'll have until tomorrow, at the latest, to choose your companions. You said the queen of the gods had time until the solstice?"

"Yeah," says Percy uncertainly. "Juno- I mean, uh, Hera? said she's gotta be freed by the solstice, or the earth will swallow us all. She also said that our enemies are stirring. And, uh, something about a fiery one, and if we bow to his will, his king will rise and doom us all. Your usual happy prophecy."

Leo winces. "Fiery one?"

"What king?" Piper glances at Annabeth. "Can't be Kronos again, right?"

"His essence was almost totally destroyed," Annabeth murmurs. "He was sent to Tartarus; there's no way he could have regenerated so quickly. This...this is something new." She glances at Chiron. "I-I think—"

"Kronos?" Percy interrupts. "Like...the Kronos? Ruler of the Titans?"

"You remember something?" she lifts an eyebrow at him.

"The name is familiar," he replies. "I mean, Leo—" he turns his head to look at Leo, sitting next to him. "Leo explained a little bit of what happened last summer, but i-it feels like..." He shuts his eyes— "I feel like I went through it, too, even though it seems impossible."

There's silence after this, until Chiron clears his throat. "If your memories aren't back, there's no use dwelling on it now. Piper, Leo, if you two are leaving, I suggest you go get some rest."

"Yeah. I guess we'll get our answers soon. One way or another," Piper says. She glances at Percy, then at Annabeth. "Good luck."

"Quests are super easy," Leo says jokingly to Percy, clapping him on the back. "Hope you come back in one piece."

"Back at you," Percy smiles. By the look on his face as he watches Leo and Piper leave with Chiron, Annabeth can tell that he'd wanted Leo to come with him on the quest, only he kind of understands that Jason had been Leo's best friend, and that takes precedence.

Annabeth rises, too, unsure of whether or not to wish him luck, but deciding against it in the end. She raises her hand in a halfhearted farewell and has taken only a few steps away from him when she hears his voice: "Annabeth."

She turns. "Yeah."

"If I asked you..." he averts his gaze, stares at the sea, off to his left. "Would you come?"

"I don't know," she admits honestly. She does want to go on a quest, she wants to find the answers to all that has been going on, and she wants to find out firsthand, but not to save Hera, of all the gods, and not with him. She'd like some time to clear her head, and she can't do that when he's right there.

He exhales, glances at his wrist, where she knows the soulmark is printed on his skin, and suddenly panic rises in her throat, afraid of what he might say next. She quickly turns and walks away as quickly as she can, but before she turns the corner that leads to the cabins, she glances back to where he sits, motionless, by the fire.

/

The summons that reach her the next morning annoys her, but doesn't really surprise her. She'd packed her stuff the previous night and ignored her siblings' warnings to stay away from the son of Poseidon. She can't really blame them: after all, Poseidon is something of a nemesis to her mother, but her thirst to find some answers had won in the end.

"Sorry," Percy tells her immediately, almost defensively. "I...just don't know anyone else."

Grover stands next to him, chewing halfheartedly on a tin can. "Perce, I told you, I don't know if I'll be any good."

"Shut up," says Percy, turning to the satyr. "You're my only friend here, and plus, I wouldn't have made it here without you."

Grover's face reddens, and he glances at Annabeth, who smiles reassuringly. Percy pats his back, glancing at Chiron, who is smiling.

"A trio," says Percy. "That'll work." He looks at her. "If you're in."

Grover laughs lightly. "We'll all pull our own weight, Annabeth, so you don't need to mother us."

Chiron gazes at her. Grover nods, grinning, and gives her a thumbs-up. Annabeth glances at Percy, who stands directly in front of her, with his fingers curled around his ballpoint pen. She meets his eyes, ignoring the lightning travelling up her spine, and realizes this is the first time she's really looked at him, not counting the time he's been asleep. She's spent the last few days flitting her gaze away, but now, as she looks at him, she sees the silent plea in his eyes and just how confused he feels. Against her will, her heart pangs with sympathy.

"Fine," she relents. "You'll probably die without me, anyway."

The smile that breaks across Percy's face is so large, so painfully genuine, that it makes her cheeks flush, and she has to turn away with a gruff "Let's go," before anyone notices. She thrusts her dagger in her belt and firmly swears to pull her own weight by being as rude as possible. Accepting to join the quest had been a moment of weakness, she decides; she'd been trapped by Chiron's fatherly smile and Grover's reassurances and Percy's damn green eyes, which are way too green to be legal.

The camp van drops them on the outsirts of the city. Annabeth looks around, wary, while Grover and Percy, who have clearly bonded during their trip to camp, play Hacky Sack with one of apples Katie had given her before leaving. "You're sure Hera said nothing about where she was?"

"Nope." Percy bounces the apple off his knee, then his elbow; it flies into the air and straight into Grover's mouth. Grover swallows it whole as if on instinct and immediately begins to apologize profusely, while Percy begins to chortle.

"Stop playing, this is serious stuff we're dealing with," Annabeth grouses. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable," he shoots back, eyes flashing.

"Oh my god, shut up," Grover groans. "You two have been arguing since we left camp. I'm getting a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines."

Percy shrugs, keeping his gaze on the pavement, as Grover pushes them back into the truck, grumbling. Annabeth doesn't argue; it's true, after all. They'd tried to plan out a route to wherever Percy's instincts are leading him to, but Annabeth had soon grown weary of Percy's vague description of "a dark house, with wolves. Lots." She'd snapped, he'd snapped, and turns out they disagree with each other when it comes too ninety-nine percent of all things, which is always a nice thing to find out during a quest.

It's been almost a day since leaving camp, and they sit, now, in the truck that also carries a lion, a zebra, and an antelope. It stinks of hay and poop, and Annabeth's never been more frustrated in all her life. Grover goes to sleep, leaning his head against his knees, and Percy shies as far away from her as he can without going too close to the lion.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asks out of nowhere, his eyes on the ceiling of the truck.

"You're a son of Poseidon," she says, noting with irritation that he mutters "Neptune," under his breath. "My mom is Athena. We're supposed to be enemies."

"We're kind of not," he says drily, and Annabeth has to bite her tongue to stop herself yelling. Of all times, he wants to talk about how they're soulmates now?

He notices the look of her face. "Oh. Woah, woah, I didn't mean we're not supposed to be enemies because of...you know," he mutters lamely. "I just meant that Neptune and Minerva, like, they were enemies, but I'm sure they got along eventually—"

"They didn't," Annabeth snaps, her voice rising. "And even if they did, I don't care. Your dad insulted my mom is every way possible, and her children aren't supposed to forget it. And so, soulmates or not, I refuse to accept that I'm destined to be with someone like you— a son of Poseidon, oh, sorry, Neptune— someone who can only destroy things that takes centuries for my mother and her children to build."

She stops, takes a few long breaths. Her soulmark itches and she clenches her fist to stop it. She notices that he's looking at his own mark, too, and it sends another wave of frustration through her.

"I don't care if you believe in the soulmates crap," she continues, unable to stand it any longer. Maybe it's a good idea to lay out her thought process form the get-go. "I don't, so I'm not gonna be just...automatically all friendly with you just because Aphrodite decided we should be together. I'm not letting that stupid goddess make decisions for me and take over my whole life just because I've got your stupid words on my hand."

She shuts up as Grover mumbles something in his sleep.

"You done?" Percy asks in a soft voice. She looks quickly at him: his eyes glow aquamarine in the dimming light.

"Look, regardless of whether I believe in soulmates or not, and, uh, you're kinda right, I do believe in them—" He shrugs. "I never expected you to just, uh, fall for me in an instant, and I'm definitely not in love with you. I just met you, and you're not exactly a bucket full of sunshine, y'know? And...I kinda figured the day we met that your trust is something I have to earn, I guess, and I'm okay with that, but..." His gaze pierces her again. "You're not even giving me a chance, and that's not fair."

He twirls the ballpoint pen between his fingers. "Like, you're right about some things, but you're being a complete ass to me when I haven't done anything wrong except exist, which I guess is enough for you," he says, rolling his eyes. "And the soulmates thing doesn't even matter, okay. Like, tons of times, soulmates don't necessarily lead to love, it can just mean the deepest friendship, right?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, and she bows her head. "Yeah."

"I'm not even sure I like you yet," he says, and she can hear the beginning of a smile in his voice. "Just...can we try to get along? Didn't Nep-I, uh, mean, Poseidon get along with Athena at some point?"

Her cheeks are burning, because, yeah, well, maybe she has been avoiding him like he's a Cyclops since her soulmark turned darker, but Annabeth considers. "I guess...the chariot. Athena created it, but Poseidon created horses, so they had to work together for it to work."

He lets out a small, crooked smile. "So, truce?"

"Truce," she agrees. She digs in her pack, finds an Oreo, and splits it in half. "Sorry for being an ass."

"Sorry for being a little creepy," he says, letting her drop the Oreo into his palm, and the lack of physical contact makes her a little relieved, but also a little disappointed. He grins warily at her. "With the staring and all. The whole thing just freaked me out a little."

"You were creepy," she admits, and his soft chuckle is the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.

/

Countless monster fights later, Annabeth can trust Percy enough to watch her back while she sleeps, which she supposes can be considered a baby step. They're not friends exactly, but they can kind of tolerate each other without being at each other's throats constantly. Grover seems proud of them: he hasn't had a Percy-and-Annabeth-caused headache in days.

Percy is surprisingly easy to get along with. He's that kind of person, the kind that's got a of casual charm that can draw people in. Very go-with-the-flow. Very Poseidon. He's kind of a whiner, though, especially when they run out of water. Says he feels all 'lifeless' without it. Winding him up is easy, and fun. She's taken to calling him Seaweed Brain, a nickname she'd made up at camp out of pure spite, but now, more often than not, it falls from her lips naturally, fondly.

Annabeth doesn't make friends easily. She's grown sharp from pain and she's gotten really good at reading people, which helps her decide which walls to erect with whom. She doesn't trust easily, and, the thing is, Percy's gotten too close to her too fast. She's never let someone in so readily before, and that scares her.

He sits across from her now, cross-legged, staring at Riptide, which gleams by his ankles. The moving truck which will take them to Detroit groans and shakes. Grover's sleeping on a sofa to her right, but Annabeth can't sleep.

She looks up as Percy tosses her half an Oreo; it lands in her lap. It's become kind of a tradition with them. She allows herself a half-smile and takes a bite.

"I've wanted to ask for a while," Percy says, lounging comfortably on a red sofa with black cushions. He points to her neck, at her Camp necklace. "What's that?"

Her fingers circle each bead. "Camp thing. Every summer we survive, we get a bead. It's a commemorative thing. Each bead has a unique design, of, like, the highlight of the past year. We...the cabin senior counselors, I mean, we vote on it."

"You've got nine beads," Percy observes. "You've been at camp since you were seven?"

"Look at you, the math whiz." She exhales. "Yeah. Since I was seven."

He shrugs. "It's a nice tradition."

"Yeah." She can't help smiling. "I've got Thalia's Pine, a centaur in a prom dress, a trireme on fire...the latest one honors the fallen from the battle with Kronos."

"A centaur in a prom dress," Percy snorts.

"Kind of a long story."

There's silence for a minute, and then he asks again, "What's that?"

"What?"

"The ring."

Her throat closes up as her fingers, briefly, touch her father's college ring between her first two beads. Something in her expression must betray her discomfort, because Percy says quickly, "You don't need to talk about it, sorry."

"It's okay." Annabeth leans her head back. Closes her eyes. "The ring belongs to my dad."

"Your dad?"

"He's mortal," she confirms. "After I ran away and came to Camp, we tried to work things out between us. He sent me the ring with one of his letters, hoping I'd come home."

"That's nice of him," Percy says. There's some kind of pain in his voice. "Did you go?"

"Yeah." Annabeth snorts in derision. "It was a disaster. He'd remarried, had two new kids...whenever I stayed, monsters attacked, and his new wife blamed me. She was right, but..." Her voice fails. Her eyes, though still closed, threaten to unleash a wave of tears. "I stopped trying after a while."

"You should visit again."

Her eyes fly open. "Hell no. He never cared for me, even when I was a kid, never believed me about the monsters, that's why I ran in the first place. And, besides, if I go now, I'd just be putting them in harm's way again." She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "It's okay. Most demigods have it worse. I don't care." She doesn't say how she'd just disturb the peace of her father's new family if she went, how she doesn't even know her two half-brothers, how she'd just mess everything up for him again. Tears prickle at her eyes.

"You do care," Percy says, almost to himself.

"I really don't."

"If you didn't care," he says, "you'd have thrown the ring away a long time ago."

Anger builds in her chest, or maybe it's embarrassment. "Shut up. Just shut up, okay? You don't know what you're talking about."

There's a beat of silence as the truck wobbles back and forth, and then Percy says, "Sorry."

She squeezes her eyes shut again. "No. It's okay."

"Kinda butted in there a little it."

"I was the one who started talking," she points out, realizing suddenly that she doesn't entirely mind that she's told him.

"But still, not my place." He briefly touches his SPQR tattoo with a delicate hand, then adjusts a cushion under his head. His eyes are sad. "I just...I think I have a mortal parent. I think I haven't seen her in a while, but we still send letters and stuff." She opens her eyes a little. He is tapping his knee and smiling.

"That's a memory," she says. "That's great."

"Yeah, they're coming back in bits and pieces, but I still don't remember my mom that much. Only her smile. I think I loved her a lot. But, uh, my point is, like, outside of...all this," he nods around them, "our mortal parents are all we've got. That's why I said you should visit your dad. Maybe he misses you, too."

"Yeah." She taken a shuddery sigh. Her lower lip trembles. "Yeah. I know."

When she looks up again, Percy is asleep, his lips still curved into a smile. Annabeth scoots over to him and gently caps Riptide, marveling as it turns back into a pen. She glances at him. Percy looks so much younger when he's sleeping, his lips full and slightly parted, his face relaxed.

"Thanks," she says after a while, when she's sure that he cannot hear, and she goes back to her own couch.

/

"Duck!" Percy yells, and Annabeth drops to her knees without hesitation as Riptide whizzes over her head. He grabs her hand and yanks her along; Annabeth tries to keep up, even though Percy's got his hands full with Grover, who Percy is supporting as they run.

Her teeth chatter and her knees wobble, but Percy keeps a tight grip on her hand as they run downstream. Behind her, Midas yells, "There!" but Percy raises a hand and sends a wall of water his way.

They stop ten or so minutes later, and Annabeth collapses to her knees, breathing heavily, as Percy sets Grover down against a rock and rolls onto his back. Annabeth examines her shaking fingers and tries to forget the feeling of numbness coating her skin when Midas had turned to gold. Next thing she knew, Percy was holding her shoulders, lifting her out of a freezing stream, a look of total madness in his eyes.

"Thanks," she wheezes.

"No problem," he says, exhaling.

"Think we're safe?"

"For now." He sits up with difficulty, looking troubled. "Annabeth...I killed that guy, but he reformed in minutes. It's the same as the Cyclopes in Detroit."

She inhales sharply. "Something weird is happening."

"Yeah." Percy's fist comes down, hard, on the ground: the sound makes her flinch. "Damn it. Damn it. We never had much of a chance anyway, and now the monsters won't even die?"

She can't find anything to say, so she stands, stretches, checks the trail behind them for pursuers. There are none. Percy jumps, fully clothed, into the stream, and begins to wash the blood off his arms and face. Grover wakes with a yelp, but calms quickly when he sees them. "That douche turned me to gold?"

"And me." Annabeth shudders. "It was horrifying. Like I was stone on the outside. Trapped."

"Percy..." Grover says, "I have no idea how you got us out of that, but holy shit I'm buying you a cheeseburger the moment we're done with this."

"Yeah. I...I owe you one," Annabeth agrees.

"Add it to the list," Percy says casually, grinning. Grover laughs and throws a twig at him, and Annabeth smiles, eating a square of ambrosia, sighing as she begins to feel warm again. She tosses a square to Percy. "What does it taste like?"

"Cookies." He smiles softly again. "I think they're my mom's."

"Don't worry, man. When we're done with this quest," Grover says optimistically, "we'll go find her."

Percy looks up gratefully. "Thanks, man."

"Oh, I'm not doing it for you," the satyr replies. "This is for me. I haven't had homemade cookies in a while."

Annabeth allows herself a laugh as Percy summons a jet of icy water to splash Grover in the face, but his arm drops quickly, which is when she notices how tired he is. She picks up her pack, slings it over her shoulder. "We can't stay out in the open for long. And Percy, you need rest."

"I'm fine," Percy mumbles, stifling a yawn.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Grover, where are we?"

Grover plays a quick tune on his reed pipes, watches the fallen leaves align in a definite pattern. "At the edge of the forest; it's a good thing Percy took us downstream. There's a town fairly close by. We should spend the night there."

The sky is already turning pink with the sunset, so they leave quickly, leaving little trace that they had ever been there. There's little talk as they walk, Grover leading the way. Percy's footsteps become sluggish as time goes on, and his sword arm seems to grow heavier, but he brightens when they see lights up ahead.

"Hotel?" Grover says hopefully.

"We lost half our money at Detroit," Annabeth reminds him. She scans the area, then points to a manhole. "There."

Grover recoils. "A drain? Underground?"

"We don't have much of a choice," she tells him. Then she turns to Percy, who looks like he's struggling to keep his eyes open. "Do you mind?"

"No," he says.

"Okay." Making sure nobody's watching, Annabeth removes the covering and lowers herself down into the manhole. It isn't that smelly, thankfully, and it's actually rather dry underground. Grover uses the wood they'd collected on the way out of the forest to make a small fire, which they all huddle around gratefully.

"You can sleep," Annabeth tells Percy, and he nods wearily, curls up into a ball, and closes his eyes.

Grover chuckles quietly a few minutes later. "It's kind of rare to see you like this."

"Like what?" With a jolt, she realizes that she'd been staring at Percy, at the way his eyebrows furrow as he reacts from whatever nightmare is playing out in his head.

"I would've never expected you to trust someone like him so quick. Even if he is your soulmate." Grover smiles crookedly at her; she catches sight of the saty'rs soulmark on his collarbone as he reaches down to add a few more branches to the fire. "Every instinct of mine is telling me that he isn't one of us, not exactly, at least, so I can only imagine what you must be suspecting. And you still trust him."

"Soulmates or not...I mean, don't tell him I admitted it, but he's saved our asses a whole bunch of times now." She shrugs. "Suspicions aside, he seems kind of lost, and he isn't lying about that, either. I can tell when people lie."

"You two make a good team. Against Khione, I didn't think we had much of a chance, but you both got us out of there."

"You're the one who put the Cyclopes to sleep so we could kill them," she replies. "The three of us work pretty well together, especially considering that we met Percy less than two weeks ago. And it was just Percy who got us out of Midas' place alive just now."

"Yeah. Percy...he's a good guy," Grover says. "When I found him, he was protecting a whole tour group at the Grand Canyon from a bunch of storm spirits. He was kind of at a huge disadvantage, but all he was doing was distracting the monsters, trying to keep the civilians safe."

"Like Thalia," she whispers.

"Yeah." He sighs. "I also thought...when he was claimed, I was like this is it. This is my chance to make things right, after Thalia, and Nico, and Bianca."

"All that wasn't your fault."

"The Council disagreed," Grover says. "I dunno. This feels like redemption, almost. Even if he's more Roman than Greek."

Annabeth sits up straight, feeling suddenly more awake. "More Roman." Her mind becomes sharp, alert, as theories begin to buzz in her ears.

"That's what you've been suspecting all along, right?"

"Yeah, it seemed too crazy to be true," she says. "But it all makes sense, right? The marks, the Latin, the Roman forms. Boreas spoke in Latin to him, too."

"It seems impossible. Crazy," Grover breathes. "He kind of makes these comments, too, about how things are so similar, yet slightly different. When he found out I was a satyr, he wasn't surprised at all, he was just like, 'woah, I didn't know fauns did this kinda stuff, too.'"

"He keeps talking about this Wolf House place," Annabeth adds. "Like he was found there. In Roman mythology, there's this wolf, Lupa..."

"The purple shirt," Grover cuts in. "And his tattoo...it's got six lines across. One for every year, like the Camp Half-Blood beads. Maybe."

"There's another camp," she whispers, like she's afraid someone else will hear. "Another camp...one that follows the Roman forms of the gods. It's probably near San Francisco, which is why we're told to never go there. Titan magic is strong there, too, but this has got to be part of the reason. The last time I went to visit my dad there, when I was thirteen...it felt wrong, like I was in enemy territory. I later assumed it was because of Atlas, but Romans and Greeks are natural enemies, too."

There's silence.

"I can't believe it," Grover says hoarsely. They both gaze at Percy breathing softly beside them. "He doesn't look like a warmongering Roman at all."

Percy's hair is falling over his forehead and it looks like he's drooling, which is disgusting, only it's also kind of endearing, too. "No. He doesn't." She settles against the wall. "I wonder why Hera brought us together. I wonder why we were kept apart in the first place."

"He's gotta remember," Grover mumbles sleepily. Then — "Do you mind taking first watch?"

"No problem," she says, and the satyr curls up like Percy's done and dozes off.

Annabeth stays awake for a few minutes longer, listening to the crackling of the fire and watching the shadows it casts on Percy's face. Almost on a whim, she reaches out and picks out the stray leaves from his hair. It feels good, familiar, like she's done it before. His chest rises and falls with every breath, his skin radiates a comforting warmth, and his eyelashes flutter at her touch. Not a warmongering Roman at all.

/

When the glow from Hera's power dies and Annabeth sees Percy lying on the ground, motionless, Annabeth essentially loses it.

Deep, deep down inside her, that is.

Grover and Thalia rush to his prone form immediately; Grover shakes his shoulders, yelling "Wake up wake up wake up wake up—"

Annabeth walks to him, in a kind of daze, her eyes scanning Percy's face and torso for signs of life. His chest is still. His fingers do not twitch. Panic builds up inside her, a kind of desperation she hasn't felt since she was seven and on the run. Thalia eyes her worriedly. "Annabeth..."

"Hold him up for me," Annabeth instructs Grover, who does. She kneels next to him, steels herself, then summons all her strength to her right arm and slaps the son of Poseidon as hard as she can.

Percy's eyes fly open just as Grover loses his grip on his shoulders out of pure shock, and he falls to the ground, coughing and spluttering, his mouth full of grass. He sits up, glaring, touching the red spot on his cheek gingerly and wincing. "What?" he snaps.

"You asshole," Annabeth manages, and she lunges forward, throwing her arms around him, feeling relief flood her chest, finally allowing herself to admit just how scared she was to see her friend die. Grover's arms circle them both from behind, and the three of them kneel in the grass and rubble, sniffling, while Thalia snorts in the background.

When she needs to breathe, she finally lets go, and her face grows warm. "You're so stupid. Who the fuck just watches as a god reveals their godly form?"

"I didn't have a lot of time to react," Percy retorts. "I'd just kind of defeated the king of the giants, if you hadn't noticed."

"Hera yelled at us to look away," Annabeth shoots back. "The rest of us managed it just fine: you're just slow."

"I was a little numb, okay?"

"Yeah, well—"

"Oh my god, shut up," Grover groans. "We just completed the quest and you guys were doing so well, please don't give me a migraine now, of all times."

Percy sinks back into the grass, his eyebrows knitted together. Annabeth rises and takes a step away from him, remembering all the things he'd yelled at the giant during the battle. Son of Neptune, Praetor of the First Legion. She hadn't understood much, but clearly her hunch about him had been right. Before she can say anything, though, Hera walks up behind him.

Percy turns. "Juno."

"Hello, Perseus." The goddess smiles warmly, but Annabeth isn't comforted. The goddess had made her life miserable for a long time, and she'd technically just killed Percy. Annabeth doesn't even bother kneeling, as Grover and the Hunters are now doing.

"Why are you doing this?" Annabeth asks. "Closing Olympus, the monsters not dying, bringing us together...why?"

The goddess smiles again. "You're smarter than I realized, daughter of Athena. It seems you've figured it out already."

"Not all of it." Annabeth glances quickly at Grover, who nods. "We know a little bit, but something big is going on, something you're not telling us. The giants rising is only a part of it."

"You'll have to figure it out by yourselves," Hera says soothingly. Annabeth wants to knock the teeth out of her stupid godly skull. She looks at Percy, who wears a kind of pained expression, like his head is hurting.

"He'll help you," says the goddess. To Percy, she says, "Your memories are coming back now, I presume?"

"All at once." Percy clutches his head. "You're the one who took them away?"

She smiles. "At any rate, I must thank you for freeing me. You've done well, and Porphyrion could not have been defeated otherwise. As a token of my thanks, I will take you back to your Camp—"

"Hold on," Annabeth tries, but the goddess waves her hand, smiling too sweetly, and the world turns to dust.

They reappear right outside the Big House, where, evidently, the counselors and their seconds-in-command are gathering for a meeting. Clarisse yelps as Grover materializes near her, then catches the satyr as his knees buckle.

Everyone else gathers around them, too, exclaiming in surprise.

"What happened?" Piper asks, pushing her way forward and giving Annabeth a hug. "I got back a few hours ago, we've been trying to Iris-Message you but something was blocking the connection, are you okay?"

"It's...complicated. Did you find Jason?" Annabeth asks.

The daughter of Aphrodite drops her gaze, holds out her pale soulmark for Annabeth to inspect. "No. Not even a hint of where he might be."

Annabeth turns to Percy, who's being supported by Leo. "About that...we might have an idea. Percy, I think you'd better explain."

/

"You really could've gone easy on me that last match," Percy says from the doorway of the engine room. "I was still recovering from archery."

"You're legitimately the worst shot I've ever seen," Annabeth snorts. "And anyway, hell no. I kind of like kicking your butt in front of all the new campers. Gives me peace of mind."

"You were smirking evilly the whole time."

"Shit, I didn't mean for that to show."

He snorts, takes a step inside the room. "Jesus, this engine is way too complicated. How's Leo even sure it'll do the job?"

"Leo and his cabin are the best at what they do," Annabeth says, glancing up from her scroll. Percy's squinting around the room with distaste; he's wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt today, only he's sweet-talked the Aphrodite cabin into dyeing his shirt purple. The sight of the purple shirt with the Camp Half-Blood logo makes her uncomfortable, but she ignores the feeling.

"Yeah, and apparently it's his destiny, too," Percy says. He reaches out to touch something but recoils when he feels Annabeth's glare. "It's lunchtime. Piper said to call you."

"I'll be there in a minute, you go ahead."

He begins to leave, but then turns. "Sparring match again today?"

"Yeah," she grins. He sticks his tongue out at her, and she hears his footsteps fade away.

Annabeth turns checks for loose connections the way Leo had advised, and, when she's sure that the engine won't blow, she leaves the room.

The Argo II isn't exactly a ship yet, and it's nowhere close to completion, which Annabeth knows is probably worrying Percy more that he's letting on. He's told them, more or less, the location of the Roman camp, and that it's going to be attacked by a giant's army soon. He'd probably like to get there before the attack, she knows, only Gaea keeps attacking, messing up their schedule.

It's frustrating him, it's frustrating all of them, so Annabeth lets loose by cutting up the dummies in the sparring arena, something that Percy's taken to doing as well. Somewhere in between, they realized sparring each other was more satisfying, so they began holding sessions whenever they found the time. Percy's won 9 times and Annabeth's on 10, which he's extremely bitter about. They've also got an audience, consisting of veteran campers who've begun to place bets and a horde of new ones who pick sides every match and cheer loudly.

Piper waves hi from the Aphrodite table when Annabeth reaches the pavilion, and Annabeth sees Percy and Grover stuffing their faces at Poseidon table. She takes a seat next to Malcolm, nodding at his greeting; Leo plops down next to her with a new scroll of the ship designs.

"The way things are going, we won't make it by the end of this month like we planned," Leo says. "Percy's called his Cyclops brother Tyson to help, and that guy's working faster than our whole cabin by himself, but it still won't be enough." He hails Percy with a wave of his hand, and Percy and Grover join them, their mouths full of cheese.

"Not this again," Annabeth groans.

"Mm whathaathaa," Percy says. Leo snorts into his glass of Pepsi.

"How close is the giant army to your camp?" Annabeth asks.

Percy swallows. "About a week away, I think. I've been keeping in contact with Tyson's kin and Grover's scouts, but none of them have found the camp so far: it's pretty heavily guarded. I've tried contacting my fellow praetor, but they don't know about Iris-messages, and, besides, the connection is messed up."

"So...nothing's changed," Grover deadpans.

"Guess not," Leo shrugs. "I guess I'll go round up my cabin and try to give you an estimate on how long it'll take to finish building this damn boat."

"Sorry for the trouble," Annabeth says, aware of how her whole cabin is straining to hear the conversation.

Percy grins at her. "Can we spar now?"

"Ugh, fine, if you're so willing to lose again," Annabeth smirks, standing up and walking with to the arena, where they take their positions a few feet away from each other. Percy plants his feet in a fighting stance and uncaps Riptide. Annabeth unsheathes her dagger and grins.

"I've always wondered where you got your dagger from," Percy says casuallly. "Why don't you use a sword?"

"It was a gift," Annabeth replies, wincing slightly.

He quirks an eyebrow, then lunges. Annabeth sidesteps quickly and jabs at his torso, which he dodges. He brings Riptide in a menacing bronze arc, which Annabeth meets with her blade. He dips and weaves right, slashing downwards with the sword. Annabeth ducks and rolls, stopping a few feet behind him and slashing at his legs. Percy jumps, parries the blade away with enough force to send sparks flying into the air.

She rushes at the him, and he dips and weaves to her right as she slashes downwards with the knife. He rolls, springing up behind her and jabs Riptide at her; she sidesteps to the right just enough and the blade passes a hair's breath from her face. Quickly, before he can respond with a follow-up, she swiftly punches him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of the swordsman, and stunning him for a brief moment.

"Tell me about Jason," he says.

"What? Why me?" she asks.

Percy slashes Riptide at her again and again; she focuses on her defense, letting her muscles settle into the rhythm of his swordplay. He's surprisingly fluid for a Roman soldier and ridiculously unpredictable, but she can probably take him down if he keeps up with the stupid banter in between attacks.

"Nobody else even talks about him," Percy whines. His left flank is completely open. She jabs; he deflects.

"Ask Piper or Leo," she says.

"Please. Leo's got enough shit on his plate already, what with the ship and all, and Piper doesn't seem to like me that much. Plus, I doubt she'd tell me even if she did," Percy says. "You tell me, please. Please. Pleaaaaase—"

"Oh my god, shut up." She takes a breath. "Jason is a...good guy."

He raises an eyebrow. "You hesitated."

"Did not."

"Did too. What, do you not like him or something?"

His grin is way too smug for her liking. Annabeth darts forward, switching the dagger between her hands and raining a flurry of blows down on him, all of which he manages to block. He charges with a grunt, and she dodges, whirling to face him. Her opponent lunges, avoiding her knife, only to trip over his own feet. Annabeth howls with laughter.

"Tell me more, and stop giggling, it could happen to anyone," he grouses.

"He really was a good guy," Annabeth says. "He was a good person, and a good leader. I dunno. It's just that he was too perfect, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. But he's a good person to have on your side." She drops her gaze. "I hope we find him."

"For Piper's sake?"

"Partly." Annabeth remembers Piper's horror-stricken face when she'd first found out her boyfriend had vanished. "They were soulmates, too, and really good together. But the camp needs him, too. He helped lead us to victory in the Titan War, and now that he's gone, I think everyone feels more...vulnerable."

"He's lucky," Percy says sincerely. "So many people are worrying for him, hoping he'll come home."

"I'm sure you've got your own people," she says. The thought kind of makes her sad. Percy's been around for a while, now; it's hard to imagine him somewhere else. Pulling off upsets in capture the flag, stuffing pizza in his mouth, sparring matches. Same activities, different people.

"I hope so." Percy smiles at the gravel by his feet. "Reyna's gonna judo-flip me when we go back."

"Your co-praetor?"

"Yeah. Toughest person I've met. You'd get along well with her." He gazes at his sword, and then, as if realizing the match isn't over yet, he jumps forward. Annabeth jerks aside; the blow meant for her jaw whizzes by in a blur of knuckles. From the corner of her eye, she sees his sword arm begin an upward trajectory. She ducks this time and feels her hair ruffle with the force of it.

"When we were younger," Annabeth says conversationally, "my mom would drop all these hints about a son of Zeus needing a daughter of Athena to guide him through his life. I dunno why, I mean, it's not like Jason was unattractive or anything, but the thought made me cringe. I'm glad he's with Piper."

"Even though you had your soulmark?" He whistles when she nods. "Wow, Athena doesn't really believe in the soulmates thing at all, huh?"

"Neither do I, kind of. No offence," she says quickly, feeling her cheeks go pink. "It's just so unreliable. And illogical. All this stuff about fate is so...vague. I just don't see the point."

"I get where you're coming from," Percy replies, wiping away the sweat that's dripping off his chin. "But it's also kind of...I dunno. Cute? Touching? The thought that there's someone out there for you, who'll accept you for you. It's comforting, in a way, even if, sometimes, it can end out being a disaster."

"I guess." Annabeth lets her gaze fall on her mark, then on his.

He grins, picking up on her gaze. "Do you know how embarrassing it was to read this every day? 'Wipe your chin, you drool in your sleep.' Everyone teased the crap outta me. I was so afraid my soulmate would turn out to be a total bitch."

"Well, I just thought you were plain stupid," Annabeth says. "But I guess I wasn't totally wrong—" She darts away as he slashes Riptide in a circle, laughing. She goes on the offensive, twisting and twirling with her dagger, but he lashes out, aiming for her gut: she jumps and slashes again, but Percy proves equally effective at defense, and her dagger meets Riptide again and again.

She steps backward, but her quick blows have opened Percy up for another attack and she obliges him, planting a simple sidekick into his stomach, doubling him over. Percy winces, but recovers quickly and responds with a quick rising uppercut.

"You're a mean person, Annabeth Chase," he mumbles, as she catches Riptide with the hilt of her blade. They're nose to nose; she can smell the sea on his skin. They've never been this close, ever, and Annabeth's finding it hard to keep her composure, because her whole body is tingling and her soulmark is beginning to prickle. His eyes glimmer as he brings Riptide down with more force, and she retaliates by pushing her dagger outward, only then her soulmark burns white-hot, searing her skin, and her hand slips, and her knife makes a kind of shink noise against Riptide, and both weapons clatter to the floor.

They both stare at each other. "Guess we'll call that a draw."

They walk out the arena, laughing and drenched in sweat. "Do all you Romans talk this much when you fight?"

"I didn't exactly see you protesting," he grins. "And plus, you didn't really answer my first question. About your dagger."

"I'll tell you that story the day I fall into Tartarus," she snorts. They stop outside Athena Cabin, where a few of her siblings are gathered in the doorway. They look at Percy coldly and he shifts his feet like he's anxious to run.

"See you," he says.

"Yeah," she replies, and watches as he walks away to Cabin Three. A sudden feeling of guilt overwhelms her, and she calls out, "Percy?"

He turns. "Yeah?"

"About my dagger. The story behind it, I mean. I-It's not that i don't want to tell you, it's just that—"

"I get it, dude," he says. "You don't need to say anything."

"I will one day," she promises. "But in exchange, you need to show me all the architectural wonders of your camp."

"Deal," he grins.

She waves, then climbs the stairs to her cabin, still smiling. The owl on the door glares at her like it's Athena herself, silently reproaching her for befriending a son of Poseidon.

/

They leave New Rome a broken city, pursued like criminals. Annabeth and Leo work overtime on the engine while Percy and Frank work on losing their pursuers. Frank blows a lot of fire and smoke in the hope that it will throw the eagles off, and Percy manipulates the water in the clouds to cover them like a blanket.

Annabeth checks on Piper and Jason in the infirmary. Jason's still knocked out, but Piper's still smiling, as she has been for the past few hours, her soulmark raven on her skin once again.

"You doing okay?" Annabeth asks.

"I'm great," Piper beams. Then she realizes what she's said, and she attempts to hide her joy. "I mean, I realize that we just got the whole twelfth Legion on our bad side, but..." She glances at Jason. "We found him, and right now, that's all that matters to me."

"I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for you, too," Piper says. "This is a little late...I realize I haven't been exactly, uh, nice to Percy: I guess I was a little bitter from everything. But he makes you so happy, Annabeth. I'm sorry I wasn't more accepting for you."

Annabeth's ears heat up. "Uh, Percy and I aren't exactly—"

"I'm not saying you are," Piper interrupts. "I just know you guys are soulmates and that this whole Greek/Roman thing is messy, but dude, you both legitimately glow around each other. And you have this stupid tendency to overthink everything and I don't want you to do that here."

"I mean, I do like him," Annabeth admits, feeling her cheeks go pink. "I don't exactly know in what way, but he's a good person. I feel like he'll always have my back, y'know? There...there aren't a lot of people I can say that about."

Piper's smile grows, and she grips Jason's hand tighter. "I know the feeling."

Jason stirs, and Annabeth rises. "I think you two should be alone when he wakes."

"Thanks," Piper says, and Annabeth climbs up the stairs to the upper deck alone.

Percy leans against the railing with the most disappointed look on his face, like he'd expected so much and had been let down horribly. Annabeth joins him, tapping him lightly on the back and offering a wan smile, which he doesn't return.

"Didn't get to show you around New Rome," he says finally.

"We'll get another chance," she tries.

"Will we?" His voice is harsh, bitter. He grips the metal rail tightly. "Ughh. Gods. It's just, we fucked up so bad. We had one chance to unite the Greeks and the Romans, and we failed. Now Octavian is going to run his mouth and convince the senate to attack Camp Half-Blood. Reyna'll stall, but I don't think she can manage for long..."

"Reyna's smart," Annabeth says truthfully; the female praetor had deeply impressed her during their brief talk in New Rome. "I think she'll hold them back."

"Did you see Octavian?" Percy asks. "The guy's a snake. He's waited for an opportunity like this his whole life; he's not gonna stop until Camp Half-Blood has burned to the ground. And yeah, I know what you're gonna say, that you guys are powerful, blah blah blah, but the legion...it's like a well-oiled machine. And now that they have the Legion's standard — the Fulminata — I just don't know what's going to happen."

Annabeth tries not to feel betrayed by the way Percy says you guys, like he hadn't lived at Camp Half-Blood for the past six months at all. "Look, I know how desperate this seems, but take it from a daughter of the goddess of wisdom, okay? There's a way out of this, and we're gonna find it."

He looks at her gratefully and his shoulders relax the tiniest bit. He stares up at the swirling clouds, at Frank the dragon slowly descending upon them. Annabeth palms the coin in her pocket, the one she'd gotten from Minerva while Percy had been in New York, visiting his mother. Her mother had said some hurtful, scarring things that day, she remembers, as her finger traces the alpha, then the theta, then the epsilon, and she tries to ignore the pool of terror in her stomach.

"You should take your own advice," Percy murmurs.

She quickly extracts her hand. "Huh?"

"I'm not stupid, Annabeth," Percy says. "Something's been bothering you for the past week, something you haven't told anyone." He raises his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying you have to, but I think it'll help. And...yeah. What you said just now. You'll find a way out."

"Okay," she says, but what she doesn't say is that she's been doomed to complete a mission so ridiculously scary that dozens of her siblings have died trying. The lines Ella had recited at Camp Jupiter were for a prophecy, her prophecy, only it was centuries old, lessons to complete a quest that nobody had come close to finishing.

She knows, more or less, what she's up against. Her greatest fear — every child of Athena's greatest fear. She's tempted to give in to Percy's pleading green eyes and just spill everything she knows, but then she might start crying and her rage at her mother is so strong all she thinks, now, is that she isn't worth her tears.

His hands touch her shoulder, gingerly at first, but then gripping it so hard it's like he needs someone to hold onto. It's not a terrible feeling, even though her shoulder begins to hurt after a while. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. Glowing, Piper had said. She kind of gets it.

/

Annabeth's experienced monster attacks since she was seven years old, but nothing quite compares to the feeling of absolute numbing horror as Annabeth watches a barrage of cars fall toward her.

Her ankle screams with pain when she tries to move, and one misstep could send her tumbling to Tartarus just as Arachne had done. She's lost her laptop and weapon, is tangled in spider silk, barely able to stand, and she's given up. She's just so tired, because this solo quest to free her mother's statue has, so far, been the most emotionally challenging and physically taxing task she's ever undertaken. And now the statue is before her, this marvel of the ancient world, the key to peace between the Romans and the Greeks, and there's nothing she can do to save it.

Cracks appear in the ground by her feet, and Annabeth inches away, wincing as her ankle throbs again. Somewhere to her right, a car crashes to the ground, causing a rumble that resonates in her bones.

This is it, she thinks. This is the end.

Arachne's tapestries crumble around her, including the one that depicts her and Percy kissing underwater, a bubble of air around them. A vision of the future or of another world, she'll never know.

It hurts to watch the art being destroyed, and her heart pangs with sorrow as she thinks of what she'd done to the weaver. She'd been evil, yes, and would have most definitely killed her, but she'd been talented. She'd been cursed by the gods just for relying on her own strengths.

Annabeth finally makes it to her feet and moves away from the gaping hole in the ground as cautiously as she can. She's almost made it to what looks like secure ground when a shadow covers the sun and Annabeth looks up to see a huge column break away from the wall and descend right onto her path.

She closes her eyes, but a familiar BOOM makes her open her eyes again, and the column turns to dust as the Argo II's ballistae hit their mark. Annabeth sobs with relief as she moves forward into the light, waving her arms. The ship hovers a few feet above the ground; Percy leans over the railing so far he might fall. "Annabeth?"

"Here!" she cries.

He sees her and vanishes; she knows he's hurtling down the stairs to get to her, and, sure enough, he's flying down the ladder even as it unfurls to the floor, running across to meet her and enveloping her in a hug so warm she begins to feel dehydrated.

And it all hits Annabeth at once. The fear and the pain and the sheer desperation she'd felt the whole time, from the moment she'd let go of Percy's hand and gone with Tiberius, to the moment Arachne had fallen to her death with that piercing scream. She hadn't adventured alone since she was seven, and being shouldered with the responsibility her mother had given her had been just as hard as carrying the sky. She takes in a deep, shaky breath of air, laced with the seafoam odor that is so Percy, and bursts into tears.

The tears come hot and boiling and they cut clear paths through the grime on her face, but it's such a relief to cry, to let loose all the deep, deep sadness she's had since her mother gave her that stupid coin in Grand Central. It takes a while for her to control herself, but Percy doesn't pressure her, just tightens his arms around her and strokes her hair. She thinks he might be crying, too, because her shoulder begins to feel wet after a while.

"It's okay," he whispers. "It's okay. We're together." And somehow that comforts her more than anything else could've done.

Still sniffling, she pulls away from his hug, but reaches out for his hand instead. The rest of the seven and Nico have gathered silently around them; Piper throws her arms around her with a small sob of relief and Hazel examines her broken ankle with concern: "Oh my gods, Annabeth, what happened?"

Percy squeezes her hand as she explains, and their faces so slack with shock.

"You're...incredible," Jason says, when she's finally done. "You did it."

"What do we do with the statue?" Frank asks. "It's huge. Will it even fit on board?"

Leo looks doubtful. "We've got to try," he begins, but then there's an almighty groan as the statue tilts and begins to sink into the ground. Bile rises up her throat: she can't let the statue slip away after all that's happened, after all she's been through.

"Secure it!"she cries, and Leo understands immediately.

"Zhang, fly me up there!" he yells. Frank transforms into a giant eagle and flies Leo up to the ship, and Jason wraps an arm around Piper and flies them up too, promising to be back in a minute.

"Let's get to the ladder," Hazel says. "The ground looks like it's gonna give way any minute." The younger girl leads the way, cutting away stray bits of spider silk with her sword, supporting Nico with one arm. Annabeth's completely covered in the spider silk, which makes it hard to walk, but Percy holds her hand as they forge their way to the ladder.

He glances back at the pit. "Is that—?"

"Yeah," she mumbles. "It goes straight to Tartarus."

He frowns, holding her hand a little tighter, but suddenly they're not moving forward at all.

Percy looks back at her. "What the hell?"

Annabeth gasps as there's a sudden tug at her feet. The pull is so strong it makes her knees weak, and she's suddenly spread-eagle on the ground, being pulled backward, her bad ankle grating against the rubble, drawing blood. The pain is so sudden and immense it brings tears to her eyes.

With a yelp of surprise, Percy lunges for her arm and manages to hold on, but the pull is too strong and there's nothing he can do to stop their descent, even though he's trying desperately to claw at the cracked concrete. In the distance, she sees Hazel to untangle her long cavalry sword from the rope ladder, yelling, "Her ankle! Cut it! Cut it!"

Annabeth's mind is blank from the pain and the fear; she doesn't get what Hazel means until she's been almost fully into the pit, and she looks down to see a single strand of Arachne's silk emerging from the blackness, coiling around her foot. Her heart drops to her stomach.

Percy, grunting, is holding onto a ledge, struggling to hold on with one hand. His grip on her forearm slips until he's only grasping her wrist, but the pull on her leg is too strong.

"Let me go," she whispers. "Percy...you can't pull us both up."

"Never," he says, struggling to maintain his hold on her. Through the pain, she notices how the soulmarks on each of their wrists are rubbing over each other, like bits of flint being grated against each other, causing sparks to fly. Little sparks travel up and down her arm as she meets his eyes, and his expression is one of sorrowful determination.

"Nico!" he calls out to the younger boy, who's lying down at the edge of the pit, trying to reach them. "The other side! Lead them there! Promise me!"

"I-I..." Nico chokes. "I'll do it."

"Percy," she cries, and her tears drip down her chin, onto her neck. "Percy, don't do this. Let go. Please."

He looks back down at her. His black hair is peppered with dust and gravel, and his face is half-covered in blood, but his eyes are earnest now, no longer chaotic. Fiery, but still sea-steady.

"I'm not letting us get separated again," he says.

She clenches her eyes shut, allows herself to say, "As long as we're together." And for one final moment, she revels in the warmth their soulmarks are giving off, combined. Maybe they were always meant to hold hands like this. With so much feeling.

And then Percy lets go of the ledge he'd been clutching and their worlds turn to shadow.

/

Landing hurts, but it's the realization of where they are that hurts even more.

She drags them both out of the Cocytus and they both collapse onto the river bank, where glass shards dig into her hands, dotting her palms with blood. The blood doesn't stop even when she takes her hands away, even though she'd eaten a couple of ambrosia squares less than an hour ago.

Tartarus is dark and dank and the air reeks of sulphur. In the distance, she can hear the roars of monsters thirsting for their blood. Percy stirs next to her, and sits up slowly, like his body isn't functioning normally.

"Do you have Riptide?" she asks.

Percy checks his pocket and brings out the pen, which he uncaps, and the bronze sword grows to full size with a reassuring hiss. The blade gives off a soft light that reminds her of sing-alongs back at Camp Half-Blood, which only makes her ache more. She looks down at her own scarred palms and realizes that she's weaponless now that she's lost her knife to the pit: the knife she'd carried since she was seven. Which reminds her—

"My dagger was given to me," she says, "by a demigod called Luke Castellan."

Percy blinks at her. "Your dagger? You said before that it fell in here, right? Maybe there's a chance we can find it—"

"No," she cuts in, her eyes stinging. "Remember when we had that sparring match? I told you I'd tell you this story when I fell into Tartarus."

His green eyes glow with realization, then sympathy. "Annabeth, you don't have to."

She ignores him. "He and Thalia were the first demigods I ever met, the first family I ever had. They took me in when I ran away from home, and Luke...he gave me his dagger. He promised to keep me safe. However much you can love a person who isn't your soulmate...that's how much I loved him." She stares at her feet. "I mean, I dunno now. I mean, I was really young, and to me, he was the coolest. It might've been more of an admiration thing than real love, but I worshipped him."

"I can relate," Percy says softly. "So...where is he now?"

She clenches her fists. "He's dead." Tries for a smile, only it feels like a grimace. "Aphrodite screwed things up for me in a lot of ways."

Percy's eyes widen. "Shit. Shit. Sorry."

"No, it's okay," she says. Then— "He was the demigod who...hosted Kronos, the last piece Kronos needed to come back to life. But I think...he repented. In some way. He fought back, and, to finish Kronos once and for all, he stabbed himself with his knife. My knife." She keeps her eyes on the blood beading on her legs. "He died a hero, even though he made a lifetime of bad choices. Joined Kronos' army, poisoned Thalia's tree. He was so-so bitter, so angry, after Thalia died, and maybe they were soulmates, I don't know. But that anger...I think I get that now."

"A lot of demigods left us to join the Titans, too," Percy says. "And, like, the Roman gods are more harsh that their Greek forms. You've been to Olympus, seen the gods for yourselves. None of us in Camp Jupiter have. It's enough for anyone to lose faith after a while."

She glances at him. "You've never met Neptune?"

"I...dunno. I remember his smile, kind of, but my mom said he never visited when I was a baby. The Roman gods have strict orders to not have any contact with their demigod children. I used to pray for some kind of sign that he was acknowledging me, but I got nothing." He stares out at the river, still calling for them to wade inside and drown; Annabeth wonders if the river of lamentation is influencing their gloomy thoughts.

"Besides," he continues after a moment, "the gods have no power down here, so it's pointless to pray to them."

And she looks at him, and feels a little relief that he feels just as resentful as she does.

"I'm just so done," she whispers.

"Me, too," he says. "I mean, if we weren't Tartarus right now, and if the rest of the seven weren't counting on us, I wouldn't mind just...I dunno. Taking a break."

"From what?" she snorts, rising, offering him a hand. "Being a demigod?"

"Maybe," he says, taking her hand and standing up next to her. They both stare ahead, at the vast expanse of red smoke that covers the rest of Tartarus from their sight.

"I guess we should go," she says, and they do.

They stumble along the river Phlegethon for what seems like an eternity, and, as they walk, words come like spilled paint. Steady streams of peripheral conversation punctuated with lapses of silence, which she begins to fill with tales of the old days when she was on the run. How she saved Thalia and Grover and Luke from a Cyclops' lair. How she longed to lead a quest on her own.

Percy tells her about living in Camp Jupiter, about his fight with Krios during the Titan War, about being raised on a shield and named praetor. She can hear the pride in his voice as he speaks, and sometimes she will pitch in with a happy memory of her own— the first time she beat someone at swordplay, the minute she was claimed by Athena. Some memories are laced with a bitter streak, some without.

They talk about the gods, how they've each led their separate camps, about tactics and plots and game plans. Annabeth funnels her ideas into the far-off future like she's some kind of crazy visionary while Percy just...doesn't.

They don't talk about how the present hurts, because being where they are stabs at her very core, an omnipresent pain. Percy seems to be feeling anger rather than despair, which she's not sure is a good thing, but she can tell that his nightmares are getting worse, that he isn't sleeping even when it's her turn to guard.

Percy stops after a minute, noticing how she's dragging her bad foot as she walks. "We'll stop for today. I'll take first watch."

She's too tired to argue; they settle behind a large rock, and he pushes his shoulder under her head. Her eyes droop; her the pain in her ankle dulls. Right before she drifts off to sleep, she thinks Percy might have just kissed her forehead, but then her eyelids flutter shut before she can give it any more thought. He smells like the ocean and, oddly, old parchment, like the Athena Cabin at Camp Half-Blood, the only place she's ever felt at home.

/

The sunlight is hard to stand after so long in the darkness, but Annabeth soaks it in as best she can. She leans against the railing of the Argo II, watching as Mount Olympus gets closer and closer. It's been a dream of hers to come here, but now all she feels is a sense of foreboding as the ruins become clearer.

Piper walks up to join her and runs a hand through her own dark hair, her eyebrows furrowed. She looks at the blonde with concern. "You okay?" Annabeth knows Piper doesn't just mean the fact that they're probably about to fight the hardest battle of their lives: all of their friends have been looking at her this way since she and Percy got out of Tartarus.

The look is of concern, but also holds a hint of wariness, like they're expecting Annabeth to snap any minute. It bothers her for reasons she can't yet place, but she manages a smile. "I'm fine."

"Where's Percy?"

Annabeth goes back to studying cloud patterns. "In his room. Said he'll be up in a minute."

"Is he...ready?" Piper asks, and there's the sympathetic look again. It's weird, but Annabeth's felt unusually defensive of Percy since Tartarus. Maybe it's got something to do with the whole incident with the arai, where Annabeth had been touched by Calypso's curse, removing her sight and casting her into a world so dark and lonely she wondered how anyone could stand it. Percy had killed so many of the monsters he'd collapsed under the weight of all the curses, and when she'd gotten her sight back, she'd seen him writhing on the ground, all the fight leaking out of his body along with his blood. She'd never felt such despair in all her life.

She closes her eyes. She feels anger, yes, at so many things, but also deep sadness, which envelops her in a cold blanket. Tartarus had been brutal. She'd seen Percy nearly die, she'd heard Luke's voice, and she'd left two comrades down there to die. At Camp, they'd always stressed on how important it is to leave no man behind. She winces as the familiar feeling of shame makes her chest tighten.

Percy's dealt with the pain by putting up walls, talking very little, smiling even less. He spends a lot of time with her like he's afraid to let her out of his sight, but she catches him practicing swordplay at abnormal hours, and, when Leo had accused him of abandoning Calypso, he'd taken the other demigod's abuse without a single word of retaliation.

Everyone had taken to tiptoeing around him, as if afraid he would explode; they'd asked Annabeth if he was okay, to which she would snap, He's fine. Even though he's not. She just doesn't want them judging him for...anything. He's probably telling them the same thing about her, too.

"He's ready," Annabeth says.

Piper exhales. "He seems like he's getting better. He's smiling more, and he even agreed to let me take the night watch yesterday."

"That's good." She understands how difficult it must have been for him to sleep with anyone other than her watching his back, because it had taken a long time for Annabeth to get accustomed to the feeling of being safe again. Even though now, on most days, she ends up sneaking into his room anyway. Percy is a light sleeper, but he never complains when she opens the door, only moving over to let her lie down. Coach Hedge would kill them if he found out, but it's genuinely gotten hard for her to relax without Percy next to her, his soft breath tickling the back of her neck. On some days, she wakes up to find his arm draped over her shoulders. It's...nice.

She opens her eyes when the ship comes to a halt in midair, watching as Piper leaves her side to go kiss Jason, whose blue eyes look glassy. Leo walks up from the engine room, and Hazel and Frank emerge from the lower deck, trying not to look as if the mission they're on isn't completely impossible.

Percy climbs up the stairs, hugs Frank and Hazel, and then jogs to her, and she offers him a wan smile. He looks tired, but fairly well-rested, and his hands aren't shaking at all. Somehow, just his presence calms her down.

"Hey," she says.

"'Sup." He smiles a crooked little smile at her. "All ready to kick some giant butt?"

"Yeah." She places a hand on the hilt of her new ivory sword, the one Damasen had given her. He'd gifted her a weapon, and she'd left the giant in the pit of hell. She hasn't felt like a good, honorable person since.

He glances at it. "You used to it yet?"

"Not really. I guess I'd just used my knife for a long time." She thinks about it. "Ten years. Gods."

He smiles kind of knowingly, kind of sadly, and it occurs to her that he's the only one on the ship who knows that her dagger had belonged to Luke; she finds she's okay with that.

Piper joins them in a minute, and they line up to look at the other four, who look grieved, yet determined.

"We can do this," Hazel says, like she's convincing herself. "We can do this."

Leo clears his throat. "You know the plan."

"We got this," Piper murmurs. She turns to Percy and Annabeth with fearful eyes. "Let's go. Before we change our minds."

They climb down the ladder until their feet touch the mountain, and the Argo II vanishes from sight. She knows that Frank will soon be down to check on them, but she suddenly feels vulnerable again as she looks at the cloudy air swirling at her feet.

Piper forges ahead with her dagger in her hand, and Percy walks a few steps behind her, his eyes darting around. They walk slowly, quietly: the only things she hears is Percy's breaths a few feet away from her, creating small puffs of mist. She wonders if this is what it had felt like for him, leading his troops up Mount Othrys during the Titan War.

Piper stops behind a broken wall. "I'll go check ahead. Be back in a minute."

Percy nods, and he and Annabeth both crouch down as Piper vaults the wall: she lands with a small thud on the other side. Annabeth listens to her fading footsteps and stares at her sword, feeling her heart begin to race.

"I'll never get used to this," Percy whispers, his gaze running over the length of his weapon. "This...uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach right before a battle. I mean, I'm not the same as I was when I was twelve, trying to find my way to camp. But the feeling never changes."

She remembers lightning, being chased by a whole horde of monsters, Thalia falling to the ground, blood spilling over the grass and trickling down to reach her sneakers, Luke picking her up and sprinting away as a pine tree grew from her friend's corpse. Watching Luke leave her, then making her an offer to join him. Drawing her dagger on him, but being unable to attack. Holding up the sky as a goddess bled ichor in front of her. Navigating the Labyrinth alone. Fighting her way up Mount Olympus. Watching Luke stab himself. Dreaming of spiders encasing her body like another skin. Being sightless, calling Percy's name in whispers of agony, while he shouted for her as if from a great distance away. Percy controlling poison, spreading them in waves, a look of murder on his face, marring his features. Gazing, stunned, as every monster in the world in Tartarus rushed at her, thirsting for her blood. Holding the doors of the elevator to the mortal world shut while Percy cried tears on pure rage to her right, cursing the gods. The feeling never changes.

"Think we can take 'em?" she says finally, after a semi-awkward silence.

"You beat a full grown Cyclops when you were seven," he says. "I think we can."

She snorts. "This is coming from the guy who killed the Minotaur with its own horn."

He chuckles. "I know. Pretty fucking awesome."

"Idiot," she exhales, smiling, watching the weeds sway in the breeze. "Weird how we know all this stuff about each other. I haven't told it to many people."

"Same. I mean, they know the big things but not the details." He raises an eyebrow at her. "And the Calypso thing...Reyna might've guessed it, but I never spoke a word about it until...y'know. Tartarus. You're the first one I explained the whole thing to, so...thanks for not judging. Or blaming."

"What happened...it wasn't your fault," she tells him for, like, the trillionth time. "You tried to help her. It's the gods' fault for not keeping their promises. As usual."

"Yeah, but I can't help but feel pretty terrible about it. She was right to curse me," he murmurs, his eyes clouding over. "But, like, my point is...I'm glad I told you. I'm glad, out of everyone, it was you."

She might be blushing. "Back at you."

They both rise quickly as footsteps approach, and Piper's head appears over the wall; she must be standing on her toes. "All clear."

Annabeth clambers over the wall, walking ahead as Percy jumps down behind them. The ruins loom ahead and Piper points out possible ambush points, wondering aloud about their enemies' whereabouts, but then they enter a courtyard and Annabeth's breath catches in her throat.

Before them on the stone floors are deep scars cut into the granite, so potent even after so long. She knows what they are at once, even though it seems surreal. Piper ignores them, walking ahead with her dagger held aloft, but Annabeth kneels by the marks, touching them with a delicate hand.

Percy's feet stop when they reach her. "Um. We should move."

Annabeth looks up at him, marveling at her how, out of all her friends, she's here with him to see this. "In a minute. Do you know what these are?"

"Uh—"

"They're the cuts Poseidon made in the ground with his trident when he summoned a saltwater spring as a gift to the people of Athens when he was trying to win them over," she says, trying to contain her excitement. "And Athena offered the people the olive tree, and the people valued her gift more and so chose Athena to be their guardian god. This is it, Percy. This is where the rivalry started. I mean, I know you're technically a son of Neptune, and all, but—"

"Yeah." His voice is muted, and he kneels beside her. "Oh man. This is..."

"I know."

She looks at him and thinks about how she'd been so determined to hate him, not only because of the matching soulmarks around their wrists, but also because of his parentage. She thinks about her mother telling her to cast him aside, hissing that any daughter of hers who befriends the son of her enemy is her child no more. She thinks about everything that has happened to her since the morning the words on her wrist began to darken. So much has happened, so much bad has happened, but through it all, Percy has been the bright spot.

The words come out in a jumble. "I know that I might not always show it, but I-I'm glad we met. I'm glad we're friends." She gestures to the marks. "Even though our parents aren't."

He looks like he wants to say something, too, but he seems a little too overwhelmed to speak immediately, and she doesn't push him. He smiles instead, reaching out to hold her hand tightly, and his eyes are full of emotion. "I'm glad I got to meet you, too."

They stay there for as long as they can afford to, not speaking, and, a minute later, they stand up and follow Piper, the gravel making soft crunching noises underneath their feet. Annabeth keeps her weapon ready, knowing fully well that soon, they will walk into a trap that they might not be able to get out of. She looks back at the cuts in the stone, and she wants to smile. They're still holding hands.

/

The war is over: she should be celebrating, but there's something weighing on her; she realizes what it is only when Reyna asks Leo to help the Romans repair the vehicles they came in.

That's right. They're leaving. All the Romans are. And that includes Frank, Hazel, and Percy.

She's got half a mind to ask him to stay, now that he's not even praetor; he could stay at Camp Half-Blood instead and be a counselor, but...no. Camp Jupiter is his home: he's been wearing the purple t-shirt again ever since Gaea's defeat. She's not cruel enough to ask him to stay, even though she really, really wants him to. Besides, she and Reyna are talking about exchange programs. She and Percy can visit each other any time they like.

Still, her heart throbs painfully as each day passes, as the day to the Romans' departure comes closer.

Percy doesn't talk to her much about it: she suspects he's plagued with the same doubts she feels, but they spend an insane amount of time together, to the point where they should be sick of each other, only they aren't. For the first few days, they go around quelling small Greek-Roman fights, but, as the two camps begin to make peace, they end up just wandering Camp. Going to the lake, the beach, the strawberry fields. Cramming in conversations about, well, anything, painfully aware that it'll be a while before they meet again.

She sits opposite him, now, as he shoves pizza into his mouth; there's barely any room for both camps in the dining pavilion and the cabin-table system has been abolished for the time being. Reyna sits next to her, talking to Percy and Frank about the cleanup in Camp Jupiter. Even though most of the camp has been rebuilt, Camp Jupiter would really appreciate the cleaning harpies, she's saying, and Annabeth nods without really listening.

Piper, she sees, still looks up at the sky in the hopes that Leo might descend toward them on Festus. A reminder of all they have lost.

"Jason's gonna be ferrying a lot between the two camps, right?" Frank says. "We'll let you know how things are going through him, at least until Iris sets us up with IMs."

"Cool," Annabeth says distractedly. Percy prods her elbow with his last slice of pizza, like he's asking, What's wrong? She shakes her head.

After lunch, she and Percy walk to the arena almost on instinct, where they spar for a while: it's a relief to let her mind go empty and focus only on not getting grazed by Riptide. They stop early, calling the match a draw, mostly because they're both too weak and tired to keep going. It's been four days since the battle with Gaea, but a combination of that fight and Tartarus has made her bones brittle and her strength a mere memory. It'll be a while before she can fight the way she used to.

Percy isn't much better, but his clothes look like they're beginning to fit again, and he's laughing more often, has even started to use sarcasm. Sure signs that he's recovering.

They sit down, leaning against the training dummies, watching Clarisse take fighting class. Her students include a bunch of new Greek Campers and a lot of the Twelfth Legion, most of whom are sons and daughters of Marks looking to learn more fighting techniques. As Clarisse demonstrates a move with her spear, one of them shouts, "In the Legion we were taught to—" and Clarisse interrupts with a "Shut your pie hole, does this look like New Rome to you?" and the others all laugh.

Annabeth smirks, too, tracing patterns in the sand with her finger. She looks down at what she's drawn and finds she's replicated the alpha-theta-epsilon symbols that had been on the Mark of Athena coin. It sets off a chain of bad memories that play like a film in her head; she wipes the letters quickly away.

"I think I beat you more," Percy pipes up suddenly. "At sparring."

"You're kidding me." Annabeth knocks on the ground with her knuckles. "The floor remembers you so well after I wiped it with your ass so many times."

That makes him laugh, but it dies quickly, and he looks around thoughtfully. "'Twas fun."

"Yeah." A stab of pain. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye: it looks like he's determinedly avoiding her gaze. Panic rises in her throat, and, again, she has to fight down the urge to scream at him to stay. She doesn't know how she's going to sleep without knowing if he's safe. She doesn't know how she's going to spend her day without calling him Seaweed Brain and sparring with him and tripping him in the dining hall. She doesn't know how she's going to cope.

She says nothing.

She recalls they way they'd fought together atop Olympus, back-to-back, stabbing and slashing in sync like a killing machine: she'd never felt so alive, so aware, in all her seventeen years of existence. Ever since that day, she'd felt whole, like she'd lived as one half all her life. She doesn't want to lose that feeling, as selfish as it may sound. She can live without him, she knows, of course she can, and she knows that a bond like theirs is not easily broken, but she doesn't want to go back to being just...a half.

Her soulmark still glows on her wrist, but, oddly, the tingles don't bother her anymore. She realizes why when he stands up, chattering about how he'd like to go to the lake, maybe, and he pulls her up to her feet. Their wrists do the thing where their soulmarks touch and lines of heat travel up and down her body like she's gto copper wires under her skin.

And the realization pierces her straight through the heart.

They walk to the lake, where Percy kneels by the water and skims the surface lightly with his hand. Annabeth goes back to drawing little buildings in the mud with a stick.

"Hey," he says suddenly, like he can't help himself. "Can I ask you something?"

"Dude, you're gonna ask me even if I say no."

"The first night I was at Camp," he presses, drawing a small laugh from her, "did you visit me in the infirmary?"

"How do you even remember that?" she groans, feeling her face heat up.

"I knew it!" he crows, laughing. "I told Grover I definitely saw someone there that night, but he was all like, nobody can do it unless they're invisible, and then, after I saw you using your Yankees hat, I was like: huh." His stupid, shit-eating grin gets even wider. "Who's the creep now?"

She splutters, totally defenseless, while he laughs, skipping a stone over the water. His chuckles die quickly, and they're both still for a while, making small talk, but then they hear the sound of the conch being blown from the Big House and stand up to leave.

All across camp, the Romans are filing in from the arena, the beach, the cabins, the dining hall: everyone is hugging everyone, saying their goodbyes, and, slowly, a stream of purple begins to head up Half-Blood Hill, where she knows their chariots and cars are waiting.

Percy is called by Frank and Annabeth by Chiron almost immediately to different places, and Percy reluctantly takes a few steps away, offering her a sharp smile, promising to be back soon. To say goodbye, she knows, but neither of them say it aloud.

Annabeth talks to Reyna as they walk up the hill, finalizing plans for the futures of their camps. Reyna squeezes Annabeth's hand extra hard afterward, like an apology.

"I'll visit soon," she promises the praetor. "Tell me if you'd like to give any of your buildings an upgrade."

"From the architect of Olympus herself, we'd be honored." Reyna smiles and releases her hand: she watches all her campers gather behind her. Annabeth looks over her shoulder: there's a sea of orange behind her, and a similar ocean of purple behind Reyna. As Frank comes to her side, Reyna raises her voice: "We'd like to thank you all for your hospitality. We're extremely fortunate to gain new allies, and feel free to visit anytime." She grins. "And get ready to get your Greek asses kicked by us during war games."

There are friendly oooohs and shouts of protest. Annabeth shrugs and retorts, "You're just bitter after the way we schooled you during Capture the Flag," and everyone on her side cheers.

Reyna laughs good-naturedly and raises her hand in farewell, climbing atop her new pegasus. The Romans begin to get into their cars; some climb onto horses and pile into chariots. A few ride about a dozen giant eagles. Percy's nowhere to be seen, even though she squints into every car. Her heart sinks, but, she thinks ruefully, maybe it is better this way.

"Move out!" Reyna shouts, and her pegasus kicks off into the air, followed by the eagles, and, on the ground, the cars. There's a great whoop from Camp Half-Blood, and everyone is jumping and waving and promising to visit. They watch until the eagles disappear into the sunset and the chariots vanish from sight, and then Chiron calls out for their usual campfire.

Everyone begins to walk toward the Big House, but Annabeth can't move: her eyes still dart over the horizon like she's expecting something crazy, something miraculous to happen. Her hand rests on Thalia's tree and she takes a deep, shaky breath. Peleus the dragon hisses softly next to her and she pats his head clumsily.

"Annabeth?" Piper asks. The daughter of Aphrodite stands halfway down the hill, looking up at her in concern. "You okay?"

"I-I'm fine," Annabeth decides.

Piper climbs the rest of the way to give her a hug. "He'll be back soon," she whispers. She pulls away and touches Annabeth's cheek gently. "Don't worry, okay? Trust me, I know how much it sucks. But you'll be together again soon."

"Okay."

"Come to the campfire," her friend suggests. "Might take your mind off things."

"I'll be there in a while," she promises, and Piper nods, understanding, and runs down to the hill where Jason is waiting.

Annabeth watches the sky turn from orange to magenta and slowly makes her way down the hill, only her legs take her to the lake instead of the campfire. She can still hear everyone singing, though, and the brick-red flames rise high enough for her to see, even from where she sits on the docks.

She closes her eyes and takes another breath that she hopes will calm her, but it doesn't help that much. Her feet skim the lake's surface, and she can see the naiads swimming underwater. She can hear the ocean, can hear the soft pounding of the waves against the sand, and she can smell the sea, an odor than she's unconsciously come to expect when Percy is close.

Only he's not, she has to remind herself, and that's when the tears come.

They come softly at first, then in a torrent, and she covers her face with her hands and sobs until it feels like there are no more fluids in her body. She stares at her soulmark and curses herself and her cowardice and how she should've told Percy how much she's come to love him when she had the chance. About how she's feeling these feelings on her own, no Aphrodite influence involved, and about how she's learned that soulmates symbolize the deepest of connections and that's what she thinks she felt with him.

Her fingers curl into fists, and she hits it against the wood in frustration. It hurts more than she expected, so she switches to hurling stones into the lake, which is far less painful and so more satisfying.

She starts with pebbles that fit into her palms, then moves onto larger rocks until they're almost small boulders. She feels ridiculous, and her arms hurt, but it feels nice to do something so stupidly impulsive, even though she knows the naiads are probably going to curse her later for this.

"Stupid," she grunts, trying to pick up a particularly large rock. The insults calm her down. "Stupid, stupid, stupid piece of shit, I shouldn't have expected anything from a stupid Seaweed Brain—"

"Expect what?" says a voice, and Annabeth nearly drops the boulder on her foot.

Percy blinks, wrinkling his nose at her like she looks crazy, which she probably does. He's smiling like it's painful, his sea-green eyes a little sad but also flickering with undeniable elation. And — her breath catches — he's wearing a orange shirt. A Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

"Wh-what—"

"Here I am," Percy announces, still wearing that stupid smile, "deciding to stay, deciding against going to my home of six years, and hoping to surprise my friend, only to find her throwing rocks into the lake, abusing the shit outta me—"

She wants to laugh and cry at once. "You idiot, listen to me—"

"Aaand the rant continues!" Percy says, raising his arms in mock jubilation. "Please, Annabeth, continue, this is why I stayed—"

"Oh, don't you dare play the victim here," she snaps. "You-you let me believe that you were going back to New Rome, I was a fucking mess—"

"I didn't know I was staying, okay?" he retorts, with just as much bite. "I mean, I was debating for a while, but then, like, I didn't know, so I asked Frank if i could stay, like, half and hour ago, and he was like, okay, and—"

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I literally just said I wanted to surprise you," he says drily. "But you seem just fine with your rocks."

"Oh my god, wake up and smell the seaweed," she grouses. "I was pissed at you for leaving; let a girl throw her rocks into the goddamn lake if she wants."

He stares at her for a moment, his expression almost disbelieving, and then cracks a smile despite himself.

They both burst into peels of laughter, and Annabeth collapses to her knees, scraping them against the wood. And then Percy is there, howling in his mirth, wrapping his arms around her middle, and Annabeth breathes in the scent of his hair and relishes the way his hair is tickling her cheek, and laughs and laughs until tears are leaking from under her eyelids.

He pulls away. "Woah. Sorry."

"No," she says, smiling. The tears seem to be more out of happiness and relief than grief. In fact, she feels so happy that her whole body feels like it's floating. "I-I'm just glad you didn't go."

"You could've asked me to stay, you know," he says, grinning. "Why didn't you?"

"Same reason you didn't ask me to come with you," she shrugs. "I dunno. I thought you'd be much happier at Camp Jupiter. It's your home."

"You do realize that," Percy says, "one word from you and I wouldn't have felt all this stupid confusion in the first place."

"Why?" she says before she can really think about it. Then she wants to die. "Uh, never mind, it's the ADHD, you don't have to answer that-"

Percy looks a little nervous. "I can answer, honestly, but I don't wanna creep you out."

"I've literally seen you at your creepiest."

"Fair enough," he says, grinning. Then he sighs. "Okay, so, like, I know you don't believe in soulmates."

She feels the beginning of a smile on her lips. "Yeah?"

"But, like, I couldn't leave you," he blabbers, his whole face turning crimson. "I know that makes me sound like a stalker, and at first I thought that I was just used to having you next to me, especially after Tartarus and stuff, but I've been thinking about it, and, uh, yeah. The thing is. Uh. I just. I couldn't go. I-I just—"

Annabeth feels her whole body fill up with light. "You just?"

"When we saw the trident marks Poseidon made on Olympus," he whispers, sounding absolutely, adorably mortified. "That's when it hit me. I think I might be in fucking love with you, and that confused me like you wouldn't believe, because one: you kinda scare the shit out of me sometimes, and two: you didn't want us to be like that. And I'm okay with us just being us, like how we've always been, but I just wanted to get it off my chest and so, like, I didn't wanna just leave with things like that—"

"Oh my god," she says, hiding her giggles. "You're such a rambler."

"And you're just sitting here," he groans, covering his face with his palms, "totally calm, like I haven't just bared my soul to you."

Annabeth grins, tapping against the back of his hands. "Percy. Come out."

"No," he mumbles behind his fingers.

"Well, I kinda wanted to tell you something, too," she says conversationally, and that gets his attention: he lowers his hands and raises an eyebrow. It's just as bad as being under a spotlight.

"Well, like, I dunno," she tells him awkwardly, now unsure of what to say. "I..I knew I didn't want you to leave. But, like, when we were sparring, and talking, and stuff, and I was like, wow. I could do this forever." She gazes at him: he's staring at her, his green eyes wide, like all his dreams are on the verge of coming true.

"And then I realized I wanted to," she admits. "And yeah, I still dunno about soulmates, but...you're okay," she finishes lamely. Then, noticing his sarcastic smile, she amends, "I mean, not okay like okay okay, okay like, I dunno. Good. Fine."

"You suck at explaining," he says, rolling his eyes, but he's laughing, and his hand touches her cheek and her whole world is on fire.

Only then there's a large whoop from the campers as the flames of the campfire turn purple and rise high into the sky, and Percy, who's evidently not quite accustomed to the sight, yelps in shock, thrusts out his arm like he's trying to get her to duck, and ends up pushing them both into the lake.

Annabeth sinks into the water, feeling her hair billow around her, trying not to snort in derision, because of course.

She begins to swim upward, but something large and heavy bumps into her, and she struggles in her panic, stopping only when she sees Percy's grinning face an inch from hers, glowing purple from the light of the setting sun. He makes a huge air bubble around them and his hands touch her cheeks again and he's really close and then they're kissing. And it's like seeing him for the first time all over again, because she feels that same surge of power, her soulmark shooting volts of electricity through her bloodstream. This — him and her and his hands in hers and everything — it feels good. Right.

And maybe that's the thing about soulmates. Maybe they're meant to make you feel this way, to teach you to love and accept and believe, and maybe the world — or maybe just Aphrodite — has broken her heart again and again until it stayed open, just for her to experience this one moment. Maybe that's the case. Maybe that's the point.

/