Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

part i: before

 (come ride on me — um. i mean, camaraderie)

・・・・・

In retrospect, maybe Annabeth should’ve skipped the welcome.

Skipping the welcome would’ve meant she could’ve gotten a full eight hours’ sleep, and surely, surely then she’d have been in a better mood before greeting the Romans – but it’s three fucking thirty in the morning and she’s awake in the cold in her PJs, so can you blame her for being a little pissy? Seriously, what kind of batshit crazy idiots choose to disturb their hosts at this kind of hour?

She manages to hold her tongue for a grand total of about — maybe five minutes? — before descending into a fit of angry swearing (re: the stupid Romans) as quietly as she can manage without waking Bea, who is snoring quietly across the room. Piper, wide awake and unabashed, silently shines the light from her flashlight right into Annabeth’s face under the guise of being the kind of helpful only a best friend can pull off. She doesn’t say anything but apparently can’t quite hold back a giggle as Annabeth fists several discarded orange t-shirts and presses them to her nose, finally choosing the one that smells the least of sweat and pulling it sloppily over her head. She puts it on the wrong way at first and has to do it all over again; Piper snorts again but stays where she is without offering a hand.

Bitch, Annabeth mouths when she’s done, making sure she catches the light. Piper grins.

Chiron’s waiting outside in centaur form, looking about as tired as Annabeth feels, but he’s attempting to hide it far more valiantly, something she downright refuses to do. Argus is a few feet away, all eyes trained at the hills. Piper claps him on the shoulder and he startles.

“Morning,” hisses Annabeth furiously, “if you can even call it that.”

Piper huffs a laugh and sing-songs “Here we go,” under her breath; Chiron sighs long-sufferingly.

 “We should be lucky we were informed at all,” he says placatingly. “The Romans are travelling by both sky and land; the land team contacted us when they noticed that their sister group had far overtaken them. They should be here in less than half an hour.” It all sounds very rehearsed. Annabeth wrinkles her nose at him.

“Fucking Romans,” she grunts. “I’m going to hit at least one of them when I see ‘em, mark my words.”

“Way to keep the peace,” Piper comments. Annabeth, too tired to even aim a kick at her, settles for a glare.

“Maybe you should skip the welcome,” Chiron says in a tone that’s half-pleading, but Annabeth, who’s now resolved to keeping her eyelids open through the sheer willpower of her own rage, shakes her head at once.

“No,” she says. “I’m senior counselor, I should be there. What if there’s another slimeball like Octavian in this group that’s just looking for something about us filthy graecus to be offended by?”

“Maybe it’s the lord augur himself who fucked up the schedule, decided to come back for round two,” Piper snickers. “What a little maggot.”

“Piper,” Chiron says severely as Annabeth laughs openly, “we do not call our allies maggots. Camp Jupiter is essential in keeping Tartarus’ horrors at bay on the West Coast, and it’s in our best interest to maintain friendly relations with them.” He closes his eyes and massages the region between his brows. Years of watching him do this means she knows this is the result of a special brand of headache only Annabeth can bring about, but she’s too riled up to feel the usual pang of sympathy. Piper rolls her eyes behind him and mouths They’re still maggots. Annabeth twists her lips to stop her laugh.

“I wish I was born in a time before the exchange program,” she says wistfully as they begin their trek to Thalia’s Pine. “No Romans to deal with. No friendly relations. No keeping the peace. No having to worry about calling them maggots, even when they fucking deserve it—”

“You like Reyna,” Chiron reminds her.

“Reyna is the only exception,” Annabeth admits grudgingly, having hosted the daughter of Bellona two years prior — and Reyna had treated her with similar respect last year when Annabeth had visited New Rome. Reyna is kind of similar to Annabeth in a lot of ways and she made a hell of a sparring partner. They still occasionally Iris-Message. So yes, Annabeth likes Reyna, and this is why she knows for a fact that:

“Reyna would have made it a point to arrive post-six a.m, the designated time,” she says snootily. “She would have informed us about a change of plan hours beforehand, not like — not like the lunatics on their way here right now.”

“Look, Chiron, you know I’m not going to say this to their faces, but I’m with Annabeth on this one,” Piper agrees, crossing her arms, and Annabeth’s never been more glad to have someone who sounds so calm and reassuring on her side. “They should’ve given us at least an hours’ worth of notice. This is hardly the grand welcome we had planned for them. Now it’s just gonna make us look bad — and god knows they’ve been waiting for the chance to belittle us. They already think their Camp —” she makes a face — “is far superior.”

“I understand your frustrations, but nobody’s going to judge us for this, and, quite frankly, none of us should care if they do,” Chiron placates. “The girl who IM’ed was rather apologetic about the whole thing and apologized many times — quite profusely, I might add.”

“All due respect, Chiron, but a profuse apology isn’t going to get my sleep back,” Annabeth grouses, then adds in an undertone, “or our dignity.”

Piper eyes her with interest. “Oh, you’re gonna hold onto this, aren’t you?”

Chiron pinches the bridge of his nose again, an action so practiced she’s sure that the skin there must be significantly more flimsy than the rest of him. Around a sigh, he says, “Annabeth, these demigods are going to be here for four months — please don’t hold a grudge; this program is meant to promote goodwill. Brotherhood. Camaraderie.”

“I don’t hold grudges,” she protests, and the words barely leave her mouth before she’s interrupted by an ugly snort from Piper, which prompts Argus into letting out a small breath which might be an honest-to-god laugh. Annabeth charges herself to unleash another glare, but Chiron fixes her with a gaze so disbelieving it makes her shrink back at once.

“You make your intentions very clear with every action — and your emotions are written all over your face, my dear.” Chiron places a hand on her shoulder. “You may deny this, but your mood affects the rest of Camp — as you said, you are senior counselor and one of our most tenured members. Many here look to you for instruction far more than you realize. Your actions towards this group of Romans regarding their — admittedly — slightly unprofessional communication will set the tone for the rest of their time here. This is your last here before you take a Quest and join your mother’s agency. I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if it went smoothly.”

Annabeth knows when she’s being buttered up, but the words are kind, well-meaning, and irrefutably true — spoken with the kind of stern affection only Chiron can manage. Despite the frustration still simmering in her belly, she feels herself slowly deflate, like a balloon that has received the gentlest of pricks.

“I’ll play nice,” she says, sticking her tongue out when Piper pretends to swoon from shock, forcing Argus to catch her. “But Chiron, if they act all snobby and shit like Octavian, I’m tossing them into the lake. I hope the naiads eat them for lunch.”

“Should’ve tossed Octavian into the lake while we had the chance,” Piper muses, straightening up with a little wink at Argus, who flushes. “Or better yet, into the ocean. Let him be washed away beyond the horizon with that creepy-ass teddy bear of his.”

“Should’ve helped him up the climbing wall and then pushed him into the lava from the peak,” Annabeth says darkly, pushing stray locks of hair from her face and re-tying her ponytail. Piper chortles again; Chiron sighs but doesn’t bother speaking. After thirteen years of practically raising her, he must be well-accustomed to her morning blues.

Piper yawns widely, stretches, and settles down at the base of the Pine, and Annabeth, giving up entirely on masking her exhaustion for their guests, follows a minute later. She leans her head heavily against the rough bark of the tree trunk and gazes upward, squinting between the branches, but she doesn’t catch anything — or anyone — approaching through the gloom of the early morning sky.

With a sigh, she closes her eyes.

She must fall asleep, because the next thing she knows Piper is shaking her awake and brushing the pine needles from her hair with a gentle hand. Chiron’s cantering forward, tail swishing nervously, and Argus has lit a torch to hail the group — which, now Annabeth sees, is a fast-approaching jumble of eagles, pegasi, and another horse that looks dangerously close to a ventus.

Two in particular stand out — the wingless storm spirit that’s causing tiny sparks of lightning to break across the horizon, and a gorgeous black pegasus with an extraordinary wingspan. They approach at an impossible speed, quickly breaking from their main group as they prepare for their landing. As Piper pulls her to her feet, Annabeth thinks she catches the sound of petty insults being thrown into the air — the two riders are trash talking each other.

Too late, she realizes — “Duck!” And she, Piper, and Argus all throw themselves to the ground; Chiron darts out of the way just in time for the horses’ hooves to slash the air where their heads had just been.

Her knees smart from the impact, but Annabeth manages to stand with some amount of dignity, checking for her knife before turning to help Piper. The two horses carrying the Romans touch down – the pegasus first, followed half a second later by the storm spirit — and the winner starts to yell the results at once.

“You cheated, you had a fucking head start, and you still lost, so eat my shit, Jase,” he’s crowing, sliding off his pegasus and offering it a handful of sugar cubes he withdraws from his pocket. Closer to, Annabeth sees that his wind-ruffled hair is just as midnight black as his horse. “Blackjack, you the man. You the horse. You’re the real MVP.” The pegasus whinnies, evidently pleased.

The blonde, who’s dismounted from his own horse and appears to be extremely disgruntled, protests, “I didn’t cheat—” Only to be interrupted by his friend, who proclaims, “Bullshit.”

They argue amongst each other for a good few minutes — Annabeth’s annoyance grows the longer she’s unable to get a word in edgeways — but finally Chiron canters up to them and brings their discussion to a halt.

“That was quite the entrance,” Chiron says smilingly, and both boys seem to come to themselves at once, standing straight and performing the traditional Roman salute. Chiron’s smile only grows at this, which further irates Annabeth when she sees that it’s genuine, that he’s actually charmed by their immaturity.

“Jason can’t help showing off,” says the first dude, grinning rather shamelessly for someone who’s disturbed pretty much all of Annabeth’s peace this unfortunate morning. The blonde scoffs immediately in protest. “Halfway through our flight he just starts racing — I mean, Master Chiron, would you say that’s etiquette befitting a former praetor?”

No, Annabeth thinks sourly, crossing her arms, but Chiron just laughs. The blonde boy just rolls his eyes in a What did I do to deserve this kind of way, and then his eyes slide to Piper, Annabeth, and Argus standing a little off to the side. Next to Annabeth, Piper makes a tiny choking noise and takes a step backward, ducking her head so that all her choppy hair falls in front of it.

“Piper?” Annabeth mumbles.

“Mother of —” Piper takes a quick breath and gazes away from the boy at last. “Annabeth — last year when we went to New Rome — remember I accidentally wandered into the boys’ baths —”

Annabeth can already sense where this is going. “Piper, no.”

“I told you I didn’t see anything, but I lied, I lied, I did see a thing, just one thing—”

“I don’t want to know,” Annabeth pleads.

“His thing,” Piper whispers, mortified, covering her face with her hands.

She digests this as best she can while attempting to keep her face neutral. “I can’t believe you saw his dick,” Annabeth says after a moment of silence, “and you didn’t tell me.” She considers the implications of this new revelation. “Well, like Chiron said, the exchange programme is all about camaraderie, right?”

Piper squeaks. Argus is shaking with silent laughter.

“How am I supposed to look him in the eye,” Piper wails in a whisper. “I don’t think he saw me but what if he did what If he remembers, oh my gods Annabeth I was only in a towel what if he saw my—”

“And these are two of our Camp leaders,” Chiron says loudly, beckoning them over with a panicked expression that says he’s heard everything. Annabeth has to bite her lip to stop herself laughing; Piper’s face is crimson from embarrassment.

Together they walk up to the little party, flanking Chiron, who places his hands on both of their shoulders. Behind the two Romans, more of the air team is making their landing and joining the group, nodding respectfully and saluting in a manner far more honorable than their squad leaders. One poor dude stumbles to a nearby tree and retches into the bush behind it. Annabeth winces. The dryads won’t be happy with that.

“Don’t mind him,” says a girl with a kind face and thick brown hair. “Dakota’s just airsick. We tried to make him join the land team, but he probably would’ve gotten even worse.” She holds out a hand to Annabeth, who shakes it. “I’m Gwen.”

“I told him not to try and keep up with us,” Jason grumbles.

“It’s your fault,” says the first dark-haired boy in a reasonable tone, though his eyes glint with tease. “Tempest caused some turbulence.”

“And Blackjack didn’t?” Jason demands at once. “Percy, you knocked that poor eagle out of the sky!”

“That eagle,” Percy says patiently, “was a curse from Jupiter himself, sent by daddy dearest to block my path so you would win the race.”

Jupiter? Annabeth glances sideways at Piper over Chiron’s swishing tail, trying to convey Damn, you saw some Big Three dick just by waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Piper pretends to scratch the side of her nose with her middle finger, flipping her off discreetly.

“I don’t get why you were racing in the first place,” moans the pukey boy — Dakota. “Why can’t you two just let us live for a goddamn second—”

“They’ve had the senate in near tears for years,” Gwen confides to the bemused Greeks, apparently happy to share Roman gossip. “Jason was elected praetor a while ago, with Reyna, but a couple of months ago he decided he wasn’t fit for the job and passed it on to Percy—”

“Only Percy was on a Quest and didn’t know he’d been elected,” Percy continues sweetly, crossing his arms, all the while glaring at Jason. “So imagine Percy’s surprise when he comes back to New Rome, hoping to be able to take a nice long bath, only to be swarmed by a trillion demigods, raised on a shield, and declared their new leader—”

“So you’re the new Praetor?” Piper asks with interest.

“Are you kidding me?” Percy snorts. “I resigned in about a minute. Now Frank’s the next head on the chopping block — which, well, it suits him, and he and Reyna are good together, so—”

“Well,” Annabeth murmurs, mostly to herself, “’least Frank is competent.”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” a voice chimes in unexpectedly, and she looks up, red-faced and stricken, to catch Percy’s eye. With a jolt, she realizes that her sleep-addled brain has let her mouth hang open a little too loose, and now she’s gotten herself in a sticky situation at the worst possible time.

It doesn’t help that up close, this Percy dude is striking — sharp features, angled edges, tall — not too tall but tall enough that she actually has to look up at him, which she doesn’t enjoy in the slightest. His eyes are this super cool shade of sea-green…and they’re narrowed right at her.

Annabeth can sense Chiron despairing at her side, so she straightens and tries for her most polite smile. “Just commenting on your new praetor’s ability. Frank was here last time, I liked him a lot. I gifted him a pair of Chinese handcuffs when he left.”

The implication of her generosity goes completely unnoticed by Percy, though jason’s brows jump up in recognition. “Sounds like you said the word competent.” Percy’s smile turns dangerous. “As in, competent where I’m not.”

“You must have misheard,” Annabeth says pleasantly, losing patience at an alarming rate. “I’d never insult our honoured guests, even if they did break our agreement by arriving irrationally early.”

Chiron groans lowly. Piper looks on the verge of charmspeaking her mouth shut, but then Percy replies, in a tone of honeyed acid, “Please forgive our incompetence this once, if you can — we were having some fun and got carried away. You do know what fun is, right?”

“Okay,” Jason booms loudly, as Annabeth opens her mouth to retort. His interruption somewhat manages to thaw the wall of ice that had formed between the two groups, and now Annabeth notices the Romans staring between her and Percy uneasily. Some look guilty, some pissed off. Her gut sinks — she can’t bring herself to look at Chiron, but she does chance a glance at Piper, who shoots her a severe look.

“We do want to apologize for that,” Jason continues, in a tone of diplomatic embarrassment. He inclines his head towards Chiron respectfully. “It really was just mine and Percy’s faults — we got caught up racing and totally lost track. We didn’t mean to arrive this…irrationally early.” At this point his gaze slides Annabeth’s way, who squares her jaw, preparing for an insult. “And the rest of us were forced to try to keep up. But if you need to blame anyone, blame us.” He places one large hand on his own chest; the other claps Percy a bit too hard on the shoulder. Percy flinches, but his face doesn’t shift from its stoic mask. “We’d hate to get started on the wrong foot. I mean, you’re right — we did mess up the timings by a lot and inconvenienced you in the process — but we didn’t mean to.” He shrugs. “I’d just hate for you to judge us based on first impressions.”

And Annabeth — well. She can’t help but understand, even though the very-much-still sleep deprived part of her still rises in protest. They’re all just here trying not to make fools of themselves, aren’t they? Jason doesn’t want the rest of his camp to suffer her bad opinion because of something they had no choice in — he’s protecting his people. She can appreciate that.

Piper, as always, understands her silence for what it is — acceptance — and steps forward. Jason’s eyes flash to her. Annabeth watches with amusement as Piper falters for a split second before clearing her throat.

“It’s the same for us,” she says evenly, and Annabeth admires her voice, so clear and open, even without the charmspeak. “I mean, we had this whole welcoming ceremony planned, y’know? And we didn’t get to show you any of that. I guess we were worried you’d judge us for such a…lacklustre greeting. So all is forgiven — if you promise not to judge us based on first impressions, too.”

“Of course,” Jason says earnestly. The rest of the Romans are nodding, and even Percy sighs slowly and lets his body sag a little in apparent defeat.

Annabeth steps forward. “I’d like to apologize, too. Like Piper said, I’m kind of sad you don’t get to see all the cool stuff we had planned, but mostly I’m sorry because I can be a real bitch this early in the morning.” There are a couple of laughs that rise up from the crowd in front of her; Jason grins and Annabeth rubs the side of her cheek, equally embarrassed and heartened by the response. “I’m sorry for my brusqueness, and I really am glad to have you guys here. Camp Half-Blood is great, and I’m sure there’s a ton we can learn from each other — plus I think you’ve got a score to settle in the War Games.” Here, she allows herself to smile fully. “I mean, we won last year at yours, and there’s no way you’re beating us on our home turf, so...”

“Wow, okay, you’re really underestimating us,” Jason says, crossing his arms, but his voice is pleasant, teasing, and there’s a familiar glint of competitiveness in his eye. Taking his lead, the rest of his camp begin to jeer in agreement. Annabeth just shrugs and grins before turning back to Chiron. The centaur looks relieved, like they’ve just curbed WWIII. Piper’s eyes crinkle up in a smile at her, proud.

“Well,” Chiron says. “It’s late. Or — well. It’s early. Piper, would you show our guests to their quarters?”

“Sure thing, Chiron.”

“I’ll wait for the land party,” Annabeth says quickly, knowing full well that she’s not off the hook and wanting to be alone and away from Chiron’s soft disappointment. She watches as Piper leads the Romans away and ignores how Percy hefts his backpack over his shoulder and casts a sideways glance at her. “If that’s okay.” She hesitates, then adds, “I’ll be nice, I swear.”

Chiron nods after a brief moment of hesitation. “I’ll just take the pegasi to the stables,” he says, although his tone indicates that they will be talking about this later. She can’t quite meet his eyes and busies herself with waving at Piper and clasping the hands of several Romans who move forward to greet her before trudging down the hill. Percy doesn’t offer his hand, even though Jason does — and Annabeth turns her back on him as the two walk away.

Alone, Annabeth settles back against the Pine and scrubs her face roughly with her hand. She’s got to get her temper under control. She can’t go around acting like a hothead Ares kid: that would make her no better than Clarisse. Athena’s way isn’t brashness and careless confrontation; it’s dealing with problems calmly and wisely. She hopes her mother didn’t see her petty fit — how’s she supposed to get her Blessing if she can’t even act wise in a tense moment?

Just a few months, Annabeth thinks, even as Percy’s smug face pops into her brain. Just a few months, and the Romans will be gone. Then she’ll beat whatever Quest gets thrown at her, and after that she can be recruited. She can go work for her mom’s agency. She can be a Hero.

She loses track of time as she waits under the Pine; she must wait at least forty minutes, and it’s a struggle to stay awake — but the snap of a twig from behind her rouses her at once. In a split second she’s on her feet, dagger in hand.

“Who is it?” she asks, glaring even harder when it turns out to be only Percy, who walks out from behind the Pine’s massive trunk, hands in the air.

“Damn, Piper was right,” he says, amicable, like they’ve been friends for ages. “She said I wouldn’t be able to sneak up on you,” he offers by way of explanation.

She still doesn’t lower the dagger. “You should be sleeping.”

“Couldn’t.” He eyes the knife in her hand with apprehension. “You know you can put that down, right?”

“You know sleep is good for you, right?,” she responds, ignoring his second statement entirely. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I went to help Chiron with the horses,” he responds. “They’re so loud. It’s hard to feel sleepy after that.”

She frowns. “But you literally flew across the country. Any sane person would be passed out right now.”

Percy arches a single dark eyebrow. “I didn’t feel like it.”

She sniffs, finally sheathing her weapon. “You must be tired.”

He shrugs. “You look more tired than I do.”

It’s said with no bite, but Annabeth bristles anyway. “I have responsibilities.”

“How very admirable of you.” Percy glances upwards before she can respond, nodding at the glittering gold nestled snugly in the branches of the pine. “Is that really the Golden Fleece?”

She stands a little straighter. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” says Percy thoughtfully. “Not bad.” For a Greek, he doesn’t say, but Annabeth hears it perfectly anyway.

She smiles. “I was actually a part of that Quest. Clarisse chose me to be one of her party before her recruitment.”

He smirks right back, cocking his head to the right. Annabeth isn’t quite sure why she felt the need to namedrop Clarisse like they’re best friends (which they’re not); she suspects it’s because something about his smug smile has burrowed under her skin and given birth to something ugly in her that just wants to show off, peacock as best she can to draw a genuine reaction from him. She hates it, hates how his smile grows like her intentions aren’t lost on him.

“That’s so cool, you’re friends with one of the Top Ten,” he says, his tone dripping with the kind of sly sarcasm that makes her bristle automatically. “Does that mean it was your plan to give the Romans – who were also looking for the Fleece – the wrong directions?”

“On the contrary,” she says with a little snort, even though she’s kind of guilty of exactly what he’s accusing her of. She hadn’t given them the wrong directions, just the long way to Polyphemus’s island. “I gave them the same plans we had. It isn’t my fault your friends can’t read a simple map.”

“Must’ve been the dyslexia,” he says, tapping the side of his head with a finger and smiling a smile so fake it gives her goosebumps. Oh, he’s good.

“Must’ve been.” She smiles so wide she feels her eyes crinkle. “Stupid ol’ Greeks, what can you do? We don’t have your naval prowess.”

“That’s true; you really should leave navigation by sea to the Romans. Or just me.” Percy crosses his arms and nods like he’s said something really intellectual. “It is my forte.”

“And why would I leave it to you?”

“Um.” He looks a little surprised at that one, like he’d expected a bigger reaction. He points at himself, looking at her suspiciously. “Son of Neptune.”

Which – yikes.

She has to physically stop herself from taking a horrified step backward. Because. Like. A son of Neptune? Since when did the Romans have one of those?

She curses Reyna silently under her breath. Friendship her ass — although it wasn’t like Annabeth has said anything about Nico, either. Great. She can’t even blame anyone for this without getting bitten in the ass.

As caught up as she’s been in her own head, she completely misses Percy’s face turning sourer and sourer until he sneers, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that Neptune and all his children are vermin to you.”

“All of you?” Annabeth blurts out despite herself. “There are more of you?”

“No — or at least…not yet, anyway,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “So you can breathe easy now that you know there aren’t more of us cockroaches scuttling around your precious camp.” He casts a disappointed look in her direction, and for some reason, it stings. “But I do want to say that it’s always nice to see what people really think of you. I guess you children of Minerva really are as judgemental as you look.”

“Ow, that hurts.” She raises a hand to her heart and pouts, taking great pleasure in the tiny scoff it elicits from him. “Truth be told, I was just shocked. Not because I’m disgusted at your parentage and what that means for me as a daughter of your father’s enemy. But because, I mean — well. You’re technically not supposed to exist.”

“Well,” he drawls, “in Roman society, I could say the same to you.”

The laugh she lets out is soft, tinkling and borderline insane. “Someone’s touchy. Am I not allowed to express pleasant surprise upon finding out that a son of Poseidon is in our midst?” She smiles. “Thank you so much for gracing us with your presence.”

He glowers at her. “It’s Neptune.”

“It’s Athena,” she shoots right back, and they both glare at each other.

Annabeth uses her poorly-concealed distasteful stare to really get a good look at him. Like she noted before, he’s tall. Skin smooth and healthily tanned like he spends hours on the beach — which he probably does, she thinks spitefully. He’s got the same SPQR tattoo all the Romans have, though she can’t make out how many lines are etched beneath it, and his eyes — well. Eyes are the window to the soul and all, and his are stunning, green but not quite green, blue but not quite blue. Very ocean-y. Very Poseidon.

So, like. Yeah. He’s good-looking. Objectively speaking. It’s not like she cares, it’s not like this is going to affect her on a fundamental level or anything, but Annabeth’s already foreseeing months of her having to deal with everyone at Camp squealing about Good Boy Jason and Bad Boy Percy, which — great.

She snaps out of her daze with an embarrassing full-body shudder — a second earlier than Percy, who’d evidently been sizing her up similarly and can’t quite hide it well enough. He coughs, looking away, and Annabeth swallows, staring down at her shoddily-tied laces, suddenly feeling self-conscious. There’s a stain on her shirt, and maybe it does smell after all. She hasn’t combed her hair. She absentmindedly touches her fingers to her face and finds that it feels dry like a goddamn desert, and her lips feel chapped like she hasn’t even thought of the concept of hydration in weeks. Offhandedly, she wonders if she looks just as much as a trash raccoon as she feels.

She reminds herself that it doesn’t matter if she does look like a vagrant. And that it doesn’t matter what he thinks even if she does give off homeless person vibes. And that she doesn’t care about what he thinks anyway, so.

Suddenly, though, some things are beginning to make more sense — “When you said the pegasi are loud—”

“Finally caught on?” He raises his eyebrows, eyes lidded and lips curled into a smug grin — gosh, she’s going to enjoy pummeling him in training. “Yeah, I can hear them. Neptune and horses, and all that.”

“Interesting,” she says nonchalantly, even though she’s filed this away in her head and has to bite back the urge to ask a slew of questions (Can you talk to mules? Can you talk to zebras? Can you talk to hippocampi?). She takes a breath. There’s probably nothing much she can learn from a son of Poseidon, anyway. Except a step-by-step model on seduction in important goddess’ temples, probably.

“Not really,” he admits, and the shrug he gives her almost feels real. “All they talk about is food.”

“And that’s not interesting enough for you?"

“Nay,” he says with a quirk of his lips, and no, Annabeth does not smile back.

Mercifully, it’s quiet for a couple of minutes, but it doesn’t stop Annabeth from squirming in place. Percy’s aura is just — so there, so present, like an itch that’s just under the surface. She can’t really figure out why he’s unnerving her like this — she’d chalk it down to the whole our parents are enemies thing if not for the fact that they’ve been feuding before learning of each others’ godly parentage.

It’s so weird. It’s so fucking weird. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time, not since her first day at Camp. Because she feels this need to — what? Prove herself? To him? And she can’t figure out why — but she knows one thing. He’s powerful. He’s got to be. Big Three kid aside, the air around him feels charged with a kind of raw energy that she’s only really felt around Nico. He’s got long limbs, sharp elbows, he’s built like a long-distance runner. Or no, a swimmer. His sword is longer than the typical Roman spatha, which is intriguing, to say the least. She wonders how he wields his blade. Does he fight all stiff and textbook like the rest of his cohort? Or does he flow like a true son of water would?

He’s shuffling around now in a way that’s fucking maddening, even though it’s probably just the ADHD and she gets it and to be honest it’s killing her to stand so still. A wild, reckless part of her wants to —  do something stupid, like ask him to spar. Right here, right now, protocols and niceties be damned. Which is ridiculous, but gods if there’s one thing that drives her up the goddamn wall, it’s a puzzle. Something she can’t figure out. And Percy looks — feels — like he’d be a challenge.

The thing is, Annabeth’s a daughter of Athena, right? And she doesn’t want to brag or anything but she’s also pretty much the model daughter of Athena — brought to Camp and claimed at the age of seven, blessed with a mind quicker than a good portion of Camp and maybe even the rest of her siblings. Everyone knows that out of all her mom’s kids, she’s the most favored, the one to watch. She’s been studying battle strategy for about as long as she can remember and has been trained to fight just as long as she’s been trained to read Ancient Greek. She’s…she’s always thought of herself as the calm in the storm, the smart one, the logical one, the one people at camp turn to when they need help, the one they rely on for answers, and she likes that.

Percy feels like her direct antithesis, even though they’ve exchanged nothing but barbs and she’s already resolved to avoid him for the rest of his time here. But here’s the thing, right, and don’t tell anyone she thought this, but the thing is that something about him is making all the logic in her brain fly right out the window. Oddly enough, trading passive-aggressive jabs with him is making her feel alive and reckless in a way she’s never felt before. Which might be weird, but the feeling is — not entirely unwelcome.

…It's kind of addicting, actually.

And that’s a problem. Athena is — she’s orthodox. She’s very much a I don’t forgive and I don’t forget kind of goddess, and if there’s one thing that Annabeth’s learned from the few short conversations she’s had with her mom, it’s that Athena takes her old grudges very seriously, and that includes the one she harbors against Poseidon. Which is…understandable, Annabeth figures, and although she’s extremely biased in Athena’s favor, she’s sure a lot of her campmates would be far more likely to forgive that kind of thing if it meant they had the chance to get with Percy. Because, like Annabeth said, he’s…uh, really fucking hot, man, okay? Jesus.

And it’s not even like Annabeth’s unused hot people. Almost everyone in Camp is, like, crazy levels of attractive — heck, the children of Aphrodite are basically supermodels. And even though it’s kinda weird if you look deeply into the, uh, family matters side of it all, there are tons of people dating at Camp and it’s not weird at all. There’s Silena and Beckendorf, for one, who are together despite their parents’ disastrous marriage, but on the other hand, the Ares and Athena campers still don’t get along, too caught up in their parents’ rivalry.

The point here being that Annabeth knows her mom would probably disown her for befriending a son of Poseidon. She’d probably judge her for even talking to him. 

Annabeth glances upwards. Hopefully Athena isn’t watching her right now. If she is, well. Annabeth can kiss that Blessing goodbye and start applying to mortal universities.

“Hey,” she begins hesitantly, only to have her voice drowned out by his — they’ve both spoken at the same time. He blinks, nonplussed.

“Didn’t catch that,” he says.

“I—” She falters. “I was just gonna tell you to go get some rest if you want.” It’s not a lie. It’s just not what she’d wanted to say, even though she isn’t sure of that anymore, either.

“Eager to get rid of me, I see.”

“Eager to assume you’re important enough for me to be affected by your presence,” she says, and his lips quirk up, amused probably against his will, judging by how hard he is trying to appear unruffled. Belatedly, she wonders if he likes trading insults with her, too.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his words turn into a groan. “Ugh. The land team’s almost here.”

“And you know this because…”

“Hazel’s got a really foulmouthed horse,” he divulges grudgingly. “I can hear him swearing all the way from here.”

“Mmhmm,” she says. “Sure you aren’t just reading my mind?”

“Unless you’re a horse—”

“Shut up, gods.” She rolls her eyes as he grins, triumphant, follows her a little further down the hill and towards the edge of the woods, where the trees are trembling. Annabeth rubs her neck; when she lets her arm drop, she can feel Percy’s gaze boring into the back of her head.

“They’re almost here,” he says. “I’ll take the horses. Arion’s a real bitch. He doesn’t let anyone touch him. Hazel’s usually the only one who can handle him, but he’s probably tired too, so he might make an exception for me.”

“Arion?” she asks, and then there’s a horse. Right there. In front of her face.

She blinks. Where the hell did it come from? Why is it staring at her like that?

The horse sniffs her hair and grunts. Annabeth’s so caught off-guard she just says “Sup,” which sounds so stupid, help, and Percy actually laughs out loud.

“That’s Arion,” he explains, like she was supposed to know this without being told.

“Oh,” Annabeth says dumbly. “Hello.” Arion whinnies.

“Oh, he likes you!” chirps Arion’s rider, a short, dark-skinned girl who Annabeth hadn’t even noticed up until that moment. She, like Percy, looks far too awake at this godforsaken hour; she slides off the horse effortlessly, shakes her legs a little, and sticks out a hand at Annabeth. Her smile is open and honest. Annabeth can’t help but like her immediately.

“I’m Hazel, daughter of Pluto,” says the girl, still smiling, and Annabeth nearly bites her tongue — because another? The Romans really hit the Big Three jackpot, didn’t they?

Hazel must notice her expression, because she giggles and shrugs, like whoopsy-daisy. Annabeth didn’t know that giggling without sounding annoying was a thing people actually did, but Hazel pulls it off without sounding like she’s simpering.

“I’m a new find,” Hazel explains. “Probably why you haven’t heard of me – I’ve only been at Camp Jupiter for a couple of months.” She displays her SPQR tattoo (without any notches beneath it) for confirmation, her eyes wide and beseeching, like she’s sorry for her own existence. It’s hopelessly endearing.

“You’re good, I totally believe you — Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, by the way,” she offers as way of introduction, shaking her hand. “Sorry it’s just me here. The rest of your crew’s getting settled in your quarters.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t apologize!” Hazel says at once, flapping her hands about. It’s charming, if a bit dangerous — Annabeth has to step back to avoid a flailing arm. “It’s totally our fault. And while I say our, I personally blame Percy and Jason.” She leans to the side to catch Percy’s eye and pokes a finger into his chest. “You’re the worst. The poor horses are going to collapse.”

“I didn’t ask you to keep up with us,” Percy grumbles, but he does put a casual arm around Hazel, squeezing her shoulders and smiling at her fondly. It’s the first smile Annabeth’s seen that isn’t laced with a single degree of sarcasm, and it’s — uh. It’s a pretty smile.

She blinks.

“No, but really. We’re so, so sorry,” Hazel continues, turning back to Annabeth and shaking Percy off; he makes his way to a grazing Arion and offers a sugar cube. “It must be, like four in the morning, gods. I feel so terrible for you. Please feel free to ostracize us for the duration of our stay.”

“Don’t tempt her,” Percy calls out, hiding the sliver of his grin in Arion’s mane.

Annabeth’s explanation along the lines of Don’t worry about it is interrupted by more horses emerging from between the trees – some carrying a rider or two, some hauling along actual carriages. Romans tumble from their steeds, groaning and cursing at Percy, who greets them with a grin and a clap on the back before tending to their horses with a gentle kind of focus that suggests he’s done this many, many times before. Annabeth can tell when he’s having a conversation with them, because his brows gets all pinched. Fascinating.

There’s a quick round of introductions before Annabeth leads them back into Camp and to the Romans’ quarters. She points out landmarks, answers a couple of questions; she really ought to be showing them around properly, but she’s too tired, and luckily for her this batch of Romans seems far more exhausted than the previous: they simply trudge along behind her in silence, yawning occasionally.

The Roman quarters are about the size of a large warehouse, the same size as the Hermes dorms. Annabeth had really tried her best to make the building look Roman, right down to the Latin etchings on the gates, and she can tell her guests notice and are pleased by it. Hazel gives her a quick hug at the front door — she really is sweet — and promises to show up on time for the activities tomorrow. As she turns away, she can hear the rest of them dividing into twos and threes and splitting off into their respective rooms.

Annabeth lingers outside until Percy finally shows up after taking the horses to the stables.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he says, batting his eyelids at her like he’s flattered, but his voice is softer now, and Annabeth notices the yawn he hides behind a deceptively casual brush of his hand against his chin.

“Had to make sure you didn’t go wandering off somewhere.” She rubs her thumb into her eye. “There are monsters in the woods at night. It can get dangerous.”

“I did wander a little,” he admits. “There are some nymphs in your lake that seemed pretty excited to see me.”

“I’m sure they love you already,” Annabeth says, stifling a yawn herself, and Percy’s gaze turns slightly sheepish.

“You really didn’t have to stay up.”

“I’m nothing,” she says, “if not a good host.”

“Even if you insult your guests?”

“I was complimenting Frank,” she retaliates, too tired to hold her tongue any longer. “If you took offense, that might be a you problem.”

He smirks, slow and crooked. Some mushy, sleepy part of her wants to lean forward and wipe it away with her fingers.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” he says. “Are you going to be giving us the grand tour of the place?”

“What’s it to you?” she asks, even though she usually does lead the Camp tour — she might have to delegate this time, though. She needs some sleep, and more importantly, she needs some space from Percy. She needs to get her head on straight.

“Gods, can’t a man ask a question?” Percy tilts his chin at her, and she narrows her eyes in response. “And coincidentally, I’m going to be asking a lot of them tomorrow during the tour. Can’t let things get too easy for you, y’know what I mean?”

“Gods, did Octavian give you express instructions to piss me off?” she questions snappily, and Percy lets out a bark of laughter at her frankness. “Because I thought he would be the worst Roman to come out of your camp.”

“I promise to give him a run for his money,” he says cheerily.

“It’s a really close race already, and I’ve known you for about twenty minutes.”

“Well,” Percy says lowly, “I don’t like to lose.”

“Well, newsflash, Shark Boy,” Annabeth fires back, “Neither do I.”

When their eyes meet, it’s kind of heated, and Percy’s fingers twitch like he’s itching to fight.

Do it, Annabeth thinks, wanting nothing more than to knock him back flat on his ass, but he lets out a deep exhale, stepping back, and the tension wanes.

“See you tomorrow,” he says abruptly, and then he’s gone, shutting the front door behind him with a short, sharp bang. She stands there for about half a minute, replaying the last five minutes in her head, before gritting her teeth. She hates not having the last word.

Piper’s waiting for her outside the Athena building, and she nudges her with a yawn. “You’re back late. Spent some quality time with Percy?” She says it like Purr-see, drawing out the name for as long as possible, but something in Annabeth’s expression makes her pause. “Uh-oh. You okay?”

“Chiron was right.” Annabeth scowls and kicks a pebble in the direction of the Roman house. “I should’ve skipped the fucking welcome.”

・・・・・

Annabeth IMs Reyna the literal second she wakes up.

Reyna picks up in about five seconds, possibly having expected this. She doesn’t bat an eye at the state Annabeth must be in — hair frizzed up, clothes rumpled, face all scowly. She hasn’t even brushed her teeth.

“I know,” Reyna says before Annabeth can begin, pinching the bridge of her nose with long, elegant fingers. “I know — I wanted to tell you, if that helps, but you know Octavian. He convinced the senate that Percy and Hazel were like our-our bargaining chips or something should we go to war — I know!” she exclaims, responding to Annabeth’s splutter of disbelief. “And you know the senate, most of them are super old fashioned legacies who somehow still remember the last demigod war even though they were probably newborns when it happened. And Octavian convinced them all that Percy and Hazel could be our trump cards to overtake you guys in the hero rankings, and so — yeah. Percy was sent on Quests or to train with Lupa whenever you guys came over. If all had gone according to plan, you wouldn’t have even known of his existence until he made his Hero debut.”

“So what went wrong?” Annabeth says bitterly, crossing her arms. “I mean, I don’t like it, but it definitely would’ve taken us by surprise.”

“Percy found out about the plan,” Reyna says, with the ghost of a smile. “Some idiot at the senate let something slip, and Percy latched onto him like a damn leech. Once he got enough pieces of the story, he pushed and pushed and pushed against it. And — it’s nice to have someone on the same page as me, finally. Frank and I figured you were going to find out anyway at some point, so why not now? You already knew about Jason anyway.”

“And Hazel?” Annabeth asks.

“Deposited at our literal front doorstep by some dude — black hair, black clothes, Stygian sword. You know of him?” Reyna asks coyly, raising an eyebrow, and Annabeth huffs out half a laugh.

“Touche,” she responds, running a hand through her hair tiredly. “Nico, son of Hades. He’s Greek on paper, but doesn’t show up around here much. He mostly trains with the dead, shows up in the Winter when most demigods are away. How the hell did he find Hazel?”

“I have no idea, and I’m choosing to turn a blind eye,” Reyna admits with a sigh. “But she’s definitely one of ours. Control over precious metals — that’s a Pluto thing.”

“So you’re almost at one year with Hazel,” Annabeth says thoughtfully, “And how many with Percy, exactly?”

“Almost six,” Reyna says, sounding ashamed — as she should. “Walked in here holding the Minotaur’s horn, of all things — he was bleeding all over but then fell facefirst into the Little Tiber, stayed down there for a whole ten minutes, and then he popped out again looking perfectly fine. I literally thought he’d drowned. Octavian had a damn heart attack when he saw that Percy was dry. It was a really eventful day.”

“I mean,” Annabeth says, “I’ve only had one conversation with the guy, and he pissed me off for all of it — I’m not gonna claim I know him or anything, but that seems shockingly in character.”

Reyna snorts. “I kind of knew you’d butt heads. That’s half the reason why I didn’t argue when the senate chucked him on a quest to Alaska when you and your siblings got here. Didn’t wanna start an unnecessary fight — none of us knew how you’d take the information.”

“Yeah, best to ease us into it by slapping into our camp during his final year here,” Annabeth smirks. “This way there’s like forty of us and one of him.”

“Please don’t kill our Son of Neptune,” Reyna says severely, but she’s hiding a smile. “We’ve got only one of him, and while he might be a pain in the ass, he’s also pretty useful sometimes.”

“I mean,” Annabeth says, “it’s not like I would know what it’s like to have many of those.”

“It would depend on if you’ve got any more Big Three spawn running around,” Reyna says casually, examining her nails with a great deal of fake interest. “If you’ve got more, so have we.”

“Full disclosure?” Annabeth says. “I like you, Reyna, and while I enjoy the rivalry between our camps, I don’t like keeping secrets like this, either. We are allies at the end of the day, right?”

“Agreed,” Reyna says at once, smiling. “Deal.”

“No more Big Threes,” she divulges. “Just Nico and Thalia — but she’s off being a Hunter, as you know, so she isn’t going to go Hero. And like I said, Nico just pops up whenever he feels like it. He might want to do the whole Hero thing, I’m not really sure, but if he does I doubt he’ll ever show his face to the public, much less be on the cover of Hero Weekly.”

“In the interest of total honesty, then,” Reyna replies, “we don’t have any more Big Three kids around either. I swear. And I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. You know how the senate is — and even though I dislike them, I didn’t want to be the one to rat them out.”

“I understand.” Annabeth watches as Reyna’s golden automaton dog Aurum drapes itself over her lap. “Okay, question.”

With a graceful tilt of her head, Reyna says, “Shoot.”

“Why send Percy and Hazel at all? I mean, I know it’s mandatory, but you could’ve kept them secret a lot longer. Have them debut in an agency. They’d be popular, it would be good for you guys.” She tries really hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice during that last part — it’s no secret that the Greeks currently occupy the most top ten spots, but mortals loves some theatrics, and the Big Three kids would be instant fan favorites without even having to try.

“I can’t lie — that was the plan,” she says, wincing slightly. “Octavian and his cronies had this whole master plan for their Hero debut — something about having Percy fight a sea serpent in Malibu? And again, I was never for it, but Octavian’s always had a pretty strong hold over the senate — it’s only been getting shaken recently, with Frank using his mom’s reputation to sway some of the older legacies to our side. But it was really Percy and Jason who were pushing to go. They crashed a meeting, threw this giant drama that lasted hours. Percy was threatening to run away and crash the exchange programme, and nobody would’ve been able to stop him, which he knows. It was a whole thing — when Octavian went off about them being disloyal to New Rome, Percy called him a sot.”

“Nice,” Annabeth admits, impressed against her will. “That freak deserves worse, though. I mean — gosh. The Greek-Roman rivalry is one thing, but is it really worth it? All this lying just for a few ranks in the top ten?”

“I think his blood boils every time he sees the rankings,” Reyna snorts. “Last quarter, when Beckendorf hit Number One? Octavian’s face turned purple.”

“How very Roman of him.” Annabeth grins as Reyna snorts. “But I mean — it’s one thing to be competitive, but another to play dirty, y’know?”

“Ugh, I know.” The daughter of Bellona rolls her eyes, flicking a long lock of chocolate hair away from her eyes. “I think he’s just mad he has no actual fighting skill and so the only battle he can wage against you guys is via the ranks. He’s loyal, but a total nutjob.”

“Agreed.” She yawns again. “Well, I have to go get a strict talking-to from Chiron. I snapped at your precious son of Poseidon—”

“Neptune,” Reyna corrects. “What’d he do?”

“Showed up at three in the morning.”

“Idiots,” Reyna hisses, slamming a hand into her forehead. “I knew I should have put Percy in the land team, but he started doing the whole big-pleading-eyes thing—”

“Reyna,” Annabeth says, aghast, though there’s a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Are you telling me you’re getting soft for this dude?”

“Gods, no,” she says, but she’s quelling a smile. “He’s an idiot of the highest order sometimes, but it’s really hard to resist him anything when he makes that face of his, you’ll see soon enough—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“—and look, Annabeth, I know I called him a pain, but Percy is…he’s loyal beyond all reason. He’s smarter than he looks and I know he’s pissed you off, but he’s actually got a good head on his shoulders. Give him a chance?”

Annabeth purses her lips. “Permission to beat his ass when we spar and during the War Games?”

“Oh, always. He needs it. Jason’s probably the only one who can hold him back in a fight, so he needs a strong dose of humility once in a while.” She inclines her head. “I hope you can give it to him.”

“Fine, then,” she relents. “I won’t start a fight outside of the arena.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Reyna says. She smiles — she really is quite pretty. Annabeth can see her doing well as a Hero on the outside, getting a legion of hardcore fans who yell in elation every time she so much as breathes. “Sorry for all the trouble. And for the lying.”

“Forgiven,” Annabeth says graciously. “And I’m sorry about the lying on our side, too.”

“Good luck.”

“I’m gonna need it.” She swipes across the Mist, ending the message, and sighs. Outside it seems bright and lively and she can hear excited chattering. A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s just past nine, which is earlier than she’d expected but still late enough to have missed the opening ceremonies and the tour. Hopefully, now, the Romans — and more importantly, Percy — are eating breakfast at the mess hall, which gives her just enough time to take and meet Chiron before she has to bother with them. Okay. Okay, she can do that.

She takes a quick bath, shoving on a ratty Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and combing through her hair with her fingers before stepping outside.

Despite sourness tinging her mood, Annabeth can’t help it when her heart lifts a little as she steps outside her cabin. It’s a beautiful day. Her favorite kind of day, with sunshine, a cool breeze, a blue sky, and fluffy clouds. Too bad she doesn’t have enough time to savor it, because she’s jumped immediately the moment her feet hit the grass.

“Annabeth,” Malcom hisses into her ear, “there’s a son of Poseidon here.”

“A son of Poseidon,” Bea whispers, half in awe, before shuddering. “Oh, man, is that why you were swearing the whole time when you got back?”

“You heard me?”

“You stubbed your toe and blamed it on him,” Bea says with a bark of laughter.

“I did do that,” she agrees. She takes a step forward, jams her hands into the pockets of her shorts, and sighs. “Yeah. I talked to Reyna about it and there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s just all — keep him at arm’s length and try not to be mean. I mean, it’s not his fault his father’s basically a manwhore.”

Malcolm scoffs. “Not be too mean? Annabeth, that isn’t stopping the Romans. When we told them we were children of Athena some of them looked at us like we were insects.”

Annabeth frowns. “Ugh. You’d think they’d get used to it after we visited them last year, but I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much.”

“We’re the hosts, though,” Bea tells Malcolm. “Annabeth’s right, we can’t go fight them on day one.”

“Save it for the War Games.” Annabeth nods at them. “And Malcolm — yeah, that sucks, but let’s not stoop to their level. I mean, I’m mad too, but I’m just going to get back at them by being better than them.” She shrugs. “Just four months. We shouldn’t care what they think.”

She can tell her brother isn’t quite convinced, but he softens. “Fine. But if I hear any of them get into the whole Minerva thing—”

“We’ll kick their butts,” Annabeth agrees. “Just — passively. We’ll give them the hardest passages from the Iliad to translate in Greek class. We’ll put them against the Ares kids when we spar. They’ll learn to play by our rules.”

“Okay,” Malcolm allows, his shoulder relaxing. “You win. And I kind of like the idea of watching the struggle at Ancient Greek. I remember when I messed up one line of Latin recitation last year and Octavian sneered in my face in front of everyone and asked me if I was really a son of Athena.” He grimaces. “What a rat.”

“Well, I hope one day someone shoves that fucking teddy bear up his ass,” says Annabeth promptly, and Bea snorts. “So? How’d the opening go?”

She holds out her arm and Bea links hers through it. Malcolm steps to her other side and leads them to the Big House, where Annabeth can see Chiron directing a couple of younger kids to the archery range. They run past her, chirping a hello, and she smiles.

“It went well,” Bea informs her, and she nods, relieved. “Leo got out Festus at the end and made a big entrance, that looked super impressive. Piper and Katie did the tour, they said there weren’t any issues. The Romans have today and tomorrow to kind of get used to things; their schedule starts for real day after.”

“Okay,” Annabeth says, processing. “And Leo didn’t set anyone on fire?”

“A tree,” Malcolm answers. Then, stiffly — “The son of Poseidon put it out.”

She raises a brow. “Wow, he’s a real hero.”

Malcom huffs a laugh, but Bea pinches her in the side. “It was kind of nice of him, actually. The dryads were really grateful.”

“Ugh,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes. “Just like his father. Charming the naiads yesterday, and the dryads today. What’s tomorrow? A nereid? An aura?”

“Typical of a son of Poseidon,” Malcolm agrees. At Bea’s raised eyebrow, he protests, “What? The Romans have their own prejudices about us, so I’ll have my own, thanks.”

Bea doesn’t refute, but she does say, “As long as they don’t hear us.”

“Agreed. I promised not to pick any fights outside of the Games,” Annabeth huffs. Now in earshot of Chiron, she steps away from her siblings. “And now I need to face the consequences for being bitchy this morning. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” they echo, and walk away; she can hear Malcolm saying something rude about the Romans again and Bea good-naturedly shutting him down. Annabeth makes her way closer to Chiron, who steps aside so she can stand next to him. Together they look around what they can see of Camp — fresh green lawns, a worn pathway, orange and purple clothed figures dotting the hill — and sigh in tandem.

“Before you say anything,” Annabeth begins, “I know I was being kind of an asshole last night — I mean this morning—”

“Language.”

“—sorry, I was being a brat and I know that, okay, and I’m sorry! I don’t want the Romans to think badly of us, and I wouldn’t blame them if they were wary of me.” Here she frowns. “But come on, Chiron.”

“Annabeth…” he says tiredly.

“He was being just as bratty! I know, I know now that he was just — just trying to get a rise out of me, and believe me, I’m just as mad as you that it worked, but—”

“But you struck first,” Chiron points out firmly, looking down at her with a single raised brow. In her many, many years at Camp Half-Blood she’s come to consider Chiron as more of a father to her than her actual dad, and she knows his expressions and what they mean. This particular brow raise means he’s not in the mood to buy any of the bullshit she’d intended to sell to him, which is a setback of sorts, but it also means he’s not too angry at her. And this, she can work with.

“I did,” she admits.

He sighs. “Annabeth, you know how much the exchange program matters. We can’t afford any bad blood with the Romans. Like them or loathe them, they’re our strongest allies. We can’t turn on each other.”

“I know,” she says. “Which is why I handled it last night.” She sighs. “Chiron, we’re not gonna go to war with them because I called them out on their timing issues. I apologized, Jason apologized, and we moved on.”

“You know I’m not talking about that,” Chiron responds, shrewd as hell. “I’m aware you and Jason quelled what could’ve been a bad situation. What I’m talking about is your snide comment — directed quite specifically at the son of Neptune.”

She opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates. Chiron turns to face her fully, a gleaming smugness in his eyes. Ugh. She hates that knows her so well.

“He might have rubbed you the wrong way,” Chiron says, tone light, yet still admonishing. “But you did not have to attack him like that — of course he responded similarly. You know the gods are watching — I’m sure you know Athena is watching you most of all. What if this affects your recruitment?”

Privately, Annabeth thinks that Athena, if she were really watching, would probably be clapping and cheering, proud of her daughter for dissing the son of her sworn enemy, but out loud she says, “Fine, I get your point. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“He’s not nearly as bad as you think,” Chiron says with a secret little smile; he’s clearly seen right through her. “He came to me this morning, you know, before the tour. All alone. Apologized for any possible behaviour that might have reflected badly on his friends.” He nods sagely at Annabeth, who’s frozen to the spot, infuriated that he beat her to it. “He didn’t have to do that, but he’s just looking out for his peers. I think that’s quite admirable.”

“Okay, then I’ll apologize to him, too, that’ll show him,” she says at once, crossing her arms. She isn’t sure what kind of expression is flickering to life on her face, but whatever it is has Chiron rolling his eyes at her.

“You’re missing the point,” he advises.

“No,” Annabeth says, almost to herself. “No, I can’t let him beat me.”

“Beat you at what?” Chiron questions tiredly. “Being a good person?”

“Beat him at…whatever twisted game he thinks he’s playing,” she decides. She raises herself on her toes and gives Chiron a hug. “Thanks for the talk, Chiron. I’ll see you later.”

“Congratulations on weaseling your way out of the lecture I ought to give you,” he says dryly, and Annabeth beams. “Just let it be. You two might actually get along if you just drop this, so don’t…fixate on this the way you usually do.”

“Fixate?” Annabeth replies, hand on her chest. “I mean, come on, Chiron. When have I ever fixated on anything?”

・・・・・

The thing is, Annabeth is usually a fixate-er. Someone who fixates, that is. It’s a trait of hers that she’s actually willing to accept can be quite annoying.

She just loves to learn! And luckily enough for her there’s so much knowledge out there for her to consume. She loves history and geography and languages and the arts. She loves literature and philosophy and anthropology. She loves sports and she loves design and she loves the physics of the way things work, and she loves architecture most of all. It’s a well-known fact around Camp that Annabeth can usually be found carrying or perusing a giant book; when she was a kid her counselor used to have to forcibly drag her to dinner because her nose was always stuck in some ancient novel. She would juggle many books at once, sliding from one rabbit hole to another the way she imagines moles, or some other underground creature, might do. She used to be really annoying about it, too — she’d hound her older siblings with questions she didn’t know the answers to, and she’d spout facts about just about anything near-constantly. It got to a point where she’d start Did you know— and everyone around her would groan, and not always good-naturedly. She learned to shut up after that.

So Annabeth is a fixate-er, one who fixates, and she doesn’t like open ends. Which Percy is, very much so, and she’d really like to know if he can talk to zebras. But let it be known that Annabeth Chase is nothing if not a woman of her word, and so, in accordance with Chiron’s warning, she does not fixate on the son of Poseidon. In fact, she avoids him altogether.

He walks into the arena? Annabeth’s got somewhere else to be. He arrives at the stables to help feed the pegasi? Annabeth’s got a Greek class to teach. He actually decides to call her bluff and peep into her empty classroom? She’s got a very urgent errand to run for Chiron. He shows up at the mess hall? Annabeth’s done eating. She wasn’t even that hungry, anyway, so shut up, Piper.

“You’re fooling nobody,” Piper says, staring despondently at her plate of food as Annabeth drags her away from it; Percy and Jason had taken a seat at the table by theirs and Annabeth had suddenly felt the need to run. Percy had smirked at her as she fled, in a very How long can you keep this up? kind of way. Annabeth wants to punch him in his stupid, ugly, perfect face.

“Y’know, he’s not that bad,” Piper says, when Annabeth deposits them both at the front steps of the Athena Cabin with a sigh of relief. “The other day, when I was talking to Jason—”

“Oooh, Jason,” Annabeth trills. “Did you tell him you saw his dick yet? Ooooooh, did you see it again?”

“Fuck off,” she grouses. “I’m not telling him. I’m never telling him. Do you know how hard it is to look him in the face and not blurt out that I’ve seen him naked? It’s so hard.”

“Was he?”

“What?”

“Was he hard when you walked in on him in the — ow!” Annabeth cackles, rubbing her arm where Piper’s just punched her. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You set that one up for me.”

“It was a poor choice of words,” Piper agrees, rubbing her face with a hand. “But anyway, as I was saying — I’m just. Not going to think about it. Or him. Or his dick.” She pauses. “He seems really nice, actually, and I think we can coexist without me spilling the beans.”

“I mean, sure, okay,” Annabeth says. “We all know how well you Aphrodite kids can keep a secret.”

Piper puffs up, indignant. “We so can keep a secret.”

“Maybe your own,” Annabeth allows. “But anyone else’s? Wheeeeeeew. You guys are gossips, and it’s okay to admit it.”

“Maybe I should go tell my siblings that you’re avoiding Percy, then,” Piper says, narrowing her eyes. “And before you even begin to think of bullshitting me, I know you’re not doing it just because he’s a son of Poseidon, and if I hint it to Lacey, she’ll have a whole forbidden romance novel written about you in a couple of hours. It’ll spread around Camp like wildfire. Maybe it’ll even get to—” She pauses. “Oh my gods, of course. You’re avoiding him because of your mom, aren’t you?”

When Annabeth doesn’t reply, she presses, “Aren’t you?”

“…No,” Annabeth replies, after a good two minutes of hesitation. Piper smacks her in the arm.

“Annabeth!”

“What?” Annabeth whines. “I’m not avoiding him just because of my mom — I also promised Reyna and Chiron that I wouldn’t insult him.” She purses her lips. “To his face, anyway.”

“Athena isn’t gonna care if you actually interact with Percy,” she says disapprovingly. “I mean, that’s the whole point of this exchange program.”

“Yeah, yeah, camaraderie,” Annabeth says, making a face.

“Yes, actually! To mingle with people. To make friends! Nobody’s asking you to become besties or anything, just—”

“I can’t take the risk,” Annabeth says tightly. “I need the Blessing. We’re starting our trials after the Initiation Quest next year and — and.” She hangs her head. “I’m not like you. Or Leo. I’m not special—”

“Annabeth—”

“—and this isn’t self-pity, it’s just true! You guys were born Blessed and that’s great for you guys and it means you’re pretty much guaranteed a place in the top fifteen once we become Pro Heroes, but — I don’t have that.” She clenches her fists. “I’m smart and I’m strong and I’m fast but that’s all things I did through my hard work and if I’m gonna be Number One I…I need the Blessing. Which means I can’t make any mistakes.”

Piper sighs, defeated. “I know you don’t believe me, but I just wish you could see that you don’t need it.”

“I do,” Annabeth insists. “I’m not like you guys, I don’t have anything flashy to show myself off.” She bites her lip. “And you know what sucks? No matter how hard I work, Percy’s probably gonna have me beat. He’s probably got some crazy insane water powers that’ll win the public over. He can probably get Number One on the popularity votes alone.”

Piper exhales, reaches out, and grabs Annabeth by the shoulder. “Look, you know as well as I do that Pro Hero work is all about what’s behind the scenes. Athena’s marketing team is so good and you’ve got the best support gear behind Hephaestus. The rest is all you.” She pokes her in the chest. “And you’re pretty fucking special, Annabeth.”

“You hit my my boob,” Annabeth says, her throat scratchy. “Are you telling me I need to use all this raw sex appeal to rise up the ranks?”

“Shut up. Listen to me.” Piper pokes her in the boob again with a rakish grin. “Athena’s got the best resources to get you to Rank One. You’ve got the looks — yes you do, don’t make that face. You’ll be forced to wear some makeup for interviews and you’ll have to shampoo your hair more than once in two weeks so you actually land a brand deal — but you’ve got the looks, you’ve got the smarts, and you’ve got the athletic ability to be one of the best Heroes in history.” She gulps a breath. “And that’s all you. Without the damn Blessing. So don’t go around letting that dictate your life and your choices.” She shakes her a little. “Don’t you see how good you are, how great you can be, even without a Blessing to back you up?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it,” Annabeth says, even though she doesn’t, and she’s really thinking that Piper doesn’t get it. Piper’s a Blessed, so how could she? She’s got charmspeak, powerful enough to make an entire horde of monsters stop in their tracks. She’s got infinite charisma — Annabeth can already see her on talk shows, laughing about something with Jimmy Fallon or Kimmel or whoever, tossing her hair back and wrapping everyone around her little finger without even having to try. And besides, Piper’s beautiful. She’d gone through this whole phase of ‘I-refuse-to-wear-makeup’ and had even chopped her own hair off with rusty scissors to emphasize the point, but about a year ago she’d realized that looking good would just emphasize how cool she looked as she kicked monster ass and had let her hair grow out. She’d started wearing clothes that actually fit her and had even allowed her siblings to put eyeliner on her. And the result is — this. Piper looks great and she looks confident and it suits her. And — Annabeth isn’t jealous, exactly. She’s confident in herself, too. But there’s a pang she feels, sometimes. Like — she doesn’t care about her appearance much, but maybe. Just maybe. Maybe she’s boxed herself too harshly because of who her mother is. Like it’s a thing, y’know? Athena kids don’t care about how they look on the surface. It’s what inside that counts. And she believes that! She does. But…it’s complicated, okay?

Piper scrubs at her eyes wearily. “Just — don’t let Athena rule your choices. Especially while we’re here. She’s probably gonna dictate your every move when you join her agency. Our time here is the last taste of freedom we’re ever gonna get.”

“I don’t let her rule my choices.”

Piper fixes her with a disbelieving look. “So you’ll talk to Percy?”

“Fine,” Annabeth says, irritated. “I’ll go talk to him.”

"You can't just spit out an order at him and run away," Piper smiles. Annabeth scowls.

"Fine," she says, annoyed. "One conversation. "One. Will that make you happy?"

“That’ll make me very happy,” Piper replies, sickly sweet. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Annabeth answers.

“That’s too far away,” Piper tuts. Her grin turns positively evil. “How about right now?”

“Piper, no.”

“Piper yes — Percy!” She calls, waving her arms at someone behind Annabeth; she supposes it must be Percy, because she’s gone completely still from shock. “Hey!”

“Hey, Piper," comes his voice, calm and easy and friendly, and just the sound of it makes her bristle. She doesn’t turn around to look at him, though. She doesn’t think she can do it without glaring. She’s pretty sure that if she looks at him right now, he’ll turn to stone like she’s Medusa.

“Where you headed to now?” Piper asks, smiling, giving Annabeth a smug look as she does so.

“I’ve got a break before the next Greek lesson,” Percy says casually. “So I was planning to go to the lake for a while. It’s really nice down there.”

“What a shock,” Annabeth grunts. Piper stamps on her foot. “Ow!”

“Yes, I’m a son of Neptune. I like water. Sue me,” Percy says, sounding so impertinent that she has no choice but to whip around and give him the stink eye. He grins at her, eyebrows raised. He looks and sounds and feels like an arrogant jock, the kind from the chick flicks the Aphrodite kids hoard. She wants to bury him alive. She wishes Camp Half-Blood had an Instagram page so she could record him being a jerk and post it for all the mortals all over the world to see. He’d never make the top ten, she thinks viciously, if the world saw what a douche he is.

“Okay,” Piper cuts in, struggling to conceal a smile, and it’s only then that Annabeth realizes that she and Percy have been staring at each other — him in amused challenge, her in fury — for far too long. She turns away, the back of her neck burning.

“Annabeth was actually heading to the lake herself,” Piper says conversationally, and Annabeth snaps her head up so fast her neck cricks.

“Was she,” Percy responds, as though interested.

“She was not,” Annabeth butts in, the same time Piper says, “She’ll say she wasn’t, but she actually was. Chiron told her before to tell the naiads to put up the markers for the races tomorrow and she totally forgot.”

“Fuck,” Annabeth says, realizing that this, in fact, is true.

“Races?” Percy asks, crossing his arms and leaning forward all businesslike. “When are the War Games?”

“We have three major War Games that are basically Capture the Flag games,” Piper answers. “Each takes place after minor events. We have Greek-versus-Roman canoe races, chariot races, pegasi relays, sparring matches, archery competitions…and more events I’m probably forgetting about, and after two or three minor events we hold a big Capture-the-Flag. Whichever side wins the most events gets bragging rights until the next exchange, but there are also MVP awards and stuff, too.”

Percy raises a brow. “And you guys won last time. In New Rome.”

“Hell yeah we did,” Annabeth interjects, turning around and smirking at Percy, unable to help herself. “Piper and I were there, actually. Your friends put up a good fight, honestly. But not a good enough fight. We brought up the tally to a tie. First time the Greeks won in your Camp. Not bad, huh?”

“Good for you!” Percy says, mock-enthused. “I mean, since we’ve actually won here long before that — twice, actually — it’s nice to finally have you on our level.” He turns to Piper, ignoring Annabeth’s loud splutter. “So tomorrow’s the canoe race?”

“You’re banned from participating,” Annabeth sniffs.

“No, I’m not,” Percy says, almost patiently, like she’s being stupid. Annabeth wants to set him on fire.

She looks away. “You should be.”

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says loudly, “that you’re way too competitive for no reason at all?”

“What’s wrong with that?” she scoffs. “You scared?”

“I happen to enjoy a healthy dose of competition myself,” Percy fires back, his eyes glinting. “And I happen to enjoy winning, too. And I’m good at it. I can’t wait to get New Rome a second win on Greek soil.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Annabeth snaps. “You know what, participate in the damn canoe race. I’ll beat your ass anyway, even if you are a son of Poseidon.”

“Neptune,” he corrects. “And it’s we.”

“What?”

“We,” Percy says slowly, like she’s a small child. “You said I. Where’s your sense of team spirit?”

“They’re individual races,” Annabeth snaps back. “So I—” she points at herself — “will beat you, and we —” she gestures at several Greek campers playing basketball on the green — “will collectively beat you guys.” She smiles. “Did you get that, or should I repeat myself?”

“Oh no, I got you loud and clear,” he says, eyes crinkled into mirthful half-moons. He turns to Piper. “So. The naiads help you put up markers?”

“Yeah,” Piper says, snapping out of her gleeful trance. She’d been watching Percy and Annabeth’s exchange like a tennis match.

“I could help,” Percy says. His voice sounds so much more genuine when he talks to literally anyone but Annabeth. She hates him for it. “I mean, if the naiads are better, then sure — but I’d like to help. I can — freeze the surface of the water and just. Walk across to wherever you wanna put up…whatever.”

“You can do that?” Piper asks, interested. “That’s so cool.”

Annabeth frowns at her shoe and bites her lip, unable to refute. It is cool, and that’s the problem. The casual way he’s talking about his powers — ugh. He talks about it the way all the Blessed do. They all just. Take it for granted. And she hates it. She hates it so much, but she rolls her eyes and stays quiet. She could tell him he’s being an ass, of course. But he won’t understand. They never do, and they never will.

“It’s really no problem,” he’s saying. “I’d be glad to help. And honestly, I’ve been dying for an excuse to jump into that lake.”

“I’m sure you have,” Piper replies.

They both laugh companionably. Annabeth stares between them in mute horror. This — this smiley, friendly Percy is not and cannot be the same one who’d been sending stinging insults her way not two minutes ago.

“So?” Percy asks, finally turning to Annabeth. “Can I? Help?”

“Um,” says Annabeth. “Yeah. It’s fine. Do whatever.”

“Okay,” Percy says, pleased enough to ignore the barely-concealed venom in her voice. He turns around, takes a few steps away, and then turns back to her.

“Well?” he asks. “Aren’t you coming?”

Piper nudges her in the elbow.

Now, Annabeth knows, is the moment she can push aside her own ego and go with Percy to the lake. She can direct him to the spots he needs to get the buoys to, he can get the job done, and they can have a good, normal time. It’s the good thing to do. The right thing to do. The easy thing to do.

But here’s the thing, and the thing is that for all her bravado and all her wisdom, Annabeth will never take the easy way out. Not when her pride is on the line.

“Actually,” she says, her tone slightly apologetic, “I’m taking a sparring class in a couple of minutes. You can just ask the naiads what to do, they should know. If that’s okay with you.”

Percy’s eyes flicker in what might be disappointment before he straightens, his back a hard, demanding line. His eyes narrow, just a bit, and then he shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him.

“Fine by me,” he says, smiling at Piper as he turns away. “See you guys later.”

Annabeth watches him go; a basketball flies into his path and he catches it easily, throwing it back to the kids on the court. One yells out a thanks, and he raises an arm in response.

It really is a beautiful day, Annabeth thinks. Warm and still breezy, the sunlight bright but not too harsh. It shines down lightly onto them. Onto the back of Percy’s hair as he walks away, until he takes a turn down to the path to the lake and she can’t see him anymore.

Finally, she turns to Piper. Who is looking at her. Like she’s so, so, so disappointed.

“What?” Annabeth asks. “What?”

・・・・・

“Hey, Bea,” Piper says casually, slurping her noodles. “Have you heard of the term eyefucking? I heard some teenagers saying it last time I went to visit my dad, but I’m not quite sure what it means. Do you?”

“Why yes, indeed I do, Piper,” Bea says seriously. “As for its meaning…well, I personally think the terminology might be better illustrated with an example — for instance, I think that’s exactly the kind of term you’d use if you saw Percy and Annabeth at the races today.”

Annabeth slams her fork down. “Hey! Here’s an idea! How about everyone shuts the fuck up! Now!”

It’s useless — the entire table is cracking up. Even Malcolm, who was supposed to be on her side — “You traitor!” Annabeth yells at him. “I thought we agreed that we hated him!”

“Did you not hear?” Mitchell calls out. “Percy’s gonna give Malcolm a full demonstration of his powers tomorrow.”

Annabeth whirls on her brother. “Malcolm, I swear, if you even begin to think about his future support gear—”

“I’m just curious,” Malcolm says, cowering behind his burger. “I mean, after what he pulled off today—”

“Canoe races should be no powers included,” Annabeth hisses, stabbing a piece of pasta with her fork. “He’s just a conniving little—”

“Annabeth, you smacked your oar into his stomach,” Leo laughs.

“Yeah,” Malcolm says at once, almost accusatorily. “Didn’t you tell me not to stoop to their level?”

“My hand slipped!” Annabeth yelps, setting off another round of laughter. “And I only did that after he froze the water around my canoe! He deserved that oar.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking, challenging a son of Neptune to a boat race,” Piper guffaws around a mouthful of her dinner. “I mean, you’ve got balls of steel, but giiiiiiirl that was stupid as hell.”

“I’m a daughter of Athena, for fuck’s sake! I’m not stupid! That was a calculated decision!”

“Don’t worry, Annabeth,” Sherman calls from the next table over, “I still hate Prissy.”

“Thank you!” Annabeth says gratefully. “And I like that name, Sherman.”

“You’re welcome,” says Sherman, inclining her head. He points his slice of pizza at the rest of the table. “And you all should be ashamed of yourselves. Fraternizing with the enemy — who are you people? What’s next? All you fools gonna transfer to New Rome next?”

It’s silent for a moment as everyone glances at each other as though just remembering they ought to hate the Romans.

“But Annabeth was doing more than fraternizing,” Leo whines, after a pregnant pause. “She was eyefucking him, for gods’ sake—”

Everyone breaks out into laughter again. Annabeth puts her head in her hands.

“If you’re going to start very, very false rumours about me,” she grumbles, “fine. Just — make sure it doesn’t get to—” she jerks her head towards a table at the edge of the mess hall, where Percy, Jason, Hazel, and a few others have just arrived.

By total chance, she glances at Percy. He’s laughing at something, nudging Hazel in the side. Annabeth scowls, and then Percy looks at her. His smile — his actual real smile that brings out a tiny dimple in his left cheek — fades into something cocky and nearly rude. He lifts a single eyebrow at her.

Mad you lost? His eyebrow taunts. I warned you I’m competitive.

Well, she responds, with a lift of her own brow, So am I.

“Guys, guys, it’s happening again!” Bea shrieks. Annabeth groans, throws her fork down, and storms from the place.

She hears them calling out to her, but she waves a hand. Piper will stop the others from following her. She’ll know that it wasn’t really the jokes that were bothering her — it was the losing. She hates losing. She loathes it. Mostly because she never does. Lose, that is. She just doesn’t. Even at little things like intra-camp capture the flag games. She doesn’t lose. And yeah, maybe she’d asked for it today, going up against a son of Poseidon in the water. But that didn’t lessen the sting of it at all.

After a couple of minutes of aimless wandering, she finds herself back at the lake, which is kind of ironic. She scowls at the water before settling down at the edge of the pier so that the tips of her shoes barely graze the surface.

A couple of naiads swim to the top, curious, and they wave and dive back down when they see it’s only her. Annabeth watches their billowy robes sink into the depths and wonders if she could have used them to her advantage in the race today. She’s friendly enough with them, she supposes, and maybe they could have tipped Percy’s kayak over or something. Held him hostage underwater.

She points her toe down, and a single ripple is born from the point of contact. She watches it spread out and away from her in concentric circles, and then she leans over and touches the water, letting it lap over her fingers. It’s cool to the touch.

She wonders, with a sharp twang of envy, what it must be like to be able to hold the water and not get wet. To be able to breathe underwater like a creature of the sea. To be able to manipulate its molecules, turning it from ice to water and back again. Percy’d done it during the race without breaking a sweat. She wonders if it had taken him long to master the technique. Or had he been born with it? Had he just woken up one day with the latent ability to change the state of matter?

So much potential, she thinks, almost wistfully. So much power. Percy would have no problem at all on the outside. He’d be popular with everyone. He’s cool enough for guys to like him and hot enough for girls to like him. And she hates to admit it, but he’s got charm. He’s fucking likeable, which is saying something because she can’t stand him him. But even though she does dislike him — and she does, okay — she can tell that he’s got something. Something that makes him really, really hard to truly hate.

And Annabeth doesn’t have that kind of aura.  She’s not easy to like. She’s well-respected around Camp, sure, but that had taken years, years for her to build trust with people and gain respect from everyone, even the Ares campers. She can be stubborn, and annoying, and fixate-y, and Annabeth — well, she doesn’t open up easily. And she sees nothing wrong with that. People are different, after all. She’s a firm and loyal friend and so what if it takes her a while to get there?

She’s been told, pretty often, actually, that she’s too blunt and sharp and opinionated. That usually doesn’t translate well in Hero Rankings. When you’re a Hero — you’re out there. You’re basically a celebrity. You’ve got to show up for interviews and brand deals and magazine shoots and red carpets and smile and be personable and likeable and funny — not too funny, but just funny enough for everyone to titter at you, like oh, how amusing. And she isn’t smiley and likeable in the least. She’s not cool and flashy, like Percy and Leo and Piper and Frank and, she suspects, Jason and Hazel. She’s no-nonsense. With her, it’s very much a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of thing, and she’s always been okay with that. But — and maybe it’s because of the loss at the races today — she feels a gnawing doubt seep into her bones.

After all, she isn’t beautiful like Piper. She isn’t funny and whip-smart like Leo. She isn’t powerful and magnetic like Percy. Her name might as well be Jane, because she’s just…plain. What makes her special? What’s so great about her that she deserves to be the best Hero in the business?

She gazes at her own hands hopelessly. Yeah, she’s Percy’s opposite, all right. No charisma, and no powers, too.

All she wants — all she’s ever wanted is to excel. She wants to be a Hero — and that’s not all. She wants to be the best Hero she can be. The best Hero the world has ever seen. The stuff of legends. She wants monsters to hear her name and run for the fucking hills. She wants to etch her name permanently into the minds of every mortal, monster and demigod.

She never wants to be ignored again.

She wants to show the world that she — and Athena by extension — mean business. She has a plan, a plan to get to Rank One, and if she has to beat Percy to get there, well — so be it.

She has to show her mother, first and foremost, that she’s worthy of the Blessing. And she isn’t going to do that by losing. She’s got to focus. She’s got to win.

She gulps, sniffing and rubbing at her nose. It’s gotten colder since she first arrived, but it’s nice out here. She doesn’t wanna leave just yet.

She doesn’t move when she hears the footsteps and merely shifts to the side as Piper scooches to her right, mimicking her position and letting out a sigh as her feet dip into the frigid waters.

“Sorry for giving you a hard time,” Piper says quietly, when Annabeth doesn’t offer to begin the conversation. “We were all just messing around. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth says truthfully, because she’d forgiven them already. “It’s cool. I dunno. He just— ” She trails off.

“He riles you up like nobody else I’ve ever seen,” Piper admits with an awfully knowing lift of an eyebrow. “Not even Clarisse in one of her stubborn moods gets you like this.”

“He’s just annoying,” Annabeth says, reluctant to admit that a lot of her anger is unjustified — comes from Percy being a natural at his skills, comes from Percy being lucky enough to be born Blessed. She and Piper have hashed this very topic countless times and it always ends up with Annabeth resigning and still feeling inferior, and Piper knowing exactly what she isn’t saying but choosing not to extend the argument any further.

Piper sighs. She folds her knees, bringing them close to her face so she can rest her chin on them.

“He’s really not that bad,” she says thoughtfully. “Like, I know he pissed you off before, and, um, the time before that, but he’s always been pretty nice to me.”

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you,” Annabeth replies, surprised at how bitter the words come out, rolling off her tongue like little bullets. She ought to stop right there, but curiosity pushes her further. “Do you like him? You guys could gang up on me together.”

Piper snorts. “You know my type, and he isn’t it.”

“Girls like Thalia, guys like Will.” Annabeth drums her fingers against her thigh. “Percy looks a lot like Thalia, to be fair.”

“Yeah,” Piper agrees. “I mean, he’s still hot as hell, don’t get me wrong. I know all my siblings and half the camp is dying to take a bite outta that. Just not me.”

“Not your type,” Annabeth says lightly, although her mind is replaying the words half the camp is dying to take a bite outta that half the camp is dying to take a bite outta that on loop like a damn fire alarm.

“Not my type,” Piper agrees. “My type’s more…Jason.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth grins. Then she does a double take. “Oh my gods, holy shit, he’s exactly your type.” She turns to her and catches the tail end of an embarrassed smile. “Ohmygods, you like him!”

“Please,” she scoffs. “I barely know him.”

“You’ve seen his dick,” Annabeth says gleefully. “You know him too much, if you ask me.”

“Stop, stop, I’m trying to forget,” Piper laughs. “But — yeah. I talked to him a little bit as we were watching you and Percy go at it — oh god, not like that, you idiot,” she says, in response to Annabeth’s sudden splutter. “We just. Talked. Laughed at how competitive you both were getting. He’s cute. It was nice. It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think this—” Annabeth pats her on both darkened cheeks — “is nothing, babe.”

“Well, it isn’t anything yet,” Piper says, leaning her head on Annabeth’s shoulder and sighing petulantly. “And — I don’t want to get attached. Not when he’s leaving soon. So. It’ll probably end up being nothing for real.” For someone who is trying to project nonchalance, she sounds despondent about it. Annabeth takes her hand and squeezes it.

“Who knows, though.” She pats Piper’s head. “Anything can happen, right? And it’s not like Iris-Messages don’t exist.”

“Who knows,” Piper murmurs. “It could be nothing. I could be making all of this up in my head.”

“You’ll keep me updated, though? If anything happens?”

“Of course.”

They sit in comfortable silence until Annabeth remembers, “You said we were both getting competitive? As in — Percy too?”

“Uh, yeah,” she laughs. “You might not have noticed his expression because you were too busy trying to cause him bodily harm, but he wasn’t expecting to get slammed in the gut with your oar. And he didn’t get angry about it or anything — he just got this super freaky grin.”

“Ha,” Annabeth sniggers, “what a weirdo.”

“Pot, kettle,” Piper says. “You should have seen your face when you oared him. I’ve never seen you cackle that evilly.”

She picks at the edge of her shorts. “Do you think I should apologize?”

“Hell no.” Piper lets out a little breathy laugh. “He used his powers and you used your resources. It’s what you’re best at and there aren’t any rules against it.”

She pauses. “And — I know how hard you are on yourself, but it was a close race. Closer than Percy was expecting, for sure. So don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Trying not to,” Annabeth responds quietly.

Piper’s silent for a while. The light from the campfire in the distance reflects onto the lake and into her eyes, turning them into orbs with warm, flickering beauty.

“You looked like you had fun out there,” she says after a pregnant pause. “More fun than you’ve had in years.”

Annabeth doesn’t reply. Piper won’t need a verbal confirmation to know that she’s right.

・・・・・

She tries to tone it down after that.

It’s a struggle. A large portion of her siblings have warmed up to him considerably since he’s apparently actually quite nice about answering questions about his powers, and the other fraction is slowly wavering. Annabeth toes the line between ignoring him and acknowledging him depending on the day. At most, she tolerates him, which she tells herself is perfectly respectable behavior, especially since Percy takes every chance he gets to piss her off in one way or another. More often than not, she ends up snapping back, which usually ends up with both of them in each other’s faces and their hands grasping their weapons, both unwilling to be the one to make the first move.

She hears the Aphrodite campers whisper about the sexual tension and whatnot every time this occurs, and Annabeth is half-certain there are some particularly creative campers concocting stories about them already, but it’s not sexual tension. It’s not. Percy’s a thorn in her side and a total nuisance. But he keeps her on his toes. The insults they hurl at each other are never too mean, never below the belt. As Piper had noted the other day — it’s fun. She’s having fun, even though she’s not about to admit it anytime soon, and especially not to Percy’s stupid face.

This year’s batch of Romans, Annabeth has to admit, are a good set. They’re all agreeable and overall pleasant to be around, even though they were pretty set in their ways at first, especially regarding Annabeth and her siblings. Annabeth finds herself gravitating towards Hazel the most, since the daughter of Pluto is pretty and sweet and free with information. She gives Annabeth and a few of her siblings a demonstration of her powers and answers about two hours’ worth of questions afterwards, all the way up until dinnertime. And Jason is nice, too. He’s a bit straightlaced for Annabeth’s tastes, but he’s a nice dude. And he and Piper seem to come attached to the hip, these days. By the way they look at each other, Annabeth can tell Piper’s gonna be seeing his dick again pretty soon if this keeps up.

The problem with hanging out with Jason and Hazel is that they come with an attached son of Poseidon, the kind that’s non-refundable. Annabeth usually ignores him when he tags along, only deigning to respond to him when he throws a cutting remark her way, but gods above he’s hard to ignore. How’s she supposed to ignore him when he smiles at Hazel all brotherly and soft and ruffles her hair? How’s she supposed to ignore him when he teases Jason and Piper right to their face, all smirky and snarky and clever? How’s she supposed to ignore him when he turns to her, a crooked smile on his lips and a challenge in his eyes and a sharp insult ready to roll right off his tongue?

Who is she kidding? She isn’t just tolerating him. She’s spending far too much time with him — albeit against her will, kind of — for this to be considered mere toleration.

Know thy enemy, she thinks, as he and Jason join her, Piper, and a couple of their siblings at dinner. Know thy enemy know thy enemy know thy enemy—

Percy laughs at something Bea says, and Annabeth promptly loses her train of thought. She looks back at her plate, flushing furiously.

Around her, chatter fills the air. Today was the archery matches and the Greeks had won by a long shot (pun not intended). It won’t be long now till the first Capture the Flag, and she’s got to be on top of her game.

She looks up to find Percy staring right at her like he can read her goddamn mind. She purses her lips and tilts her head at him. He looks like he’s fighting back a smile, but he just shakes his head and goes back to his conversation with Bea.

She turns back to her meal, pushing her hair so that it covers her ears. She can feel them burning and she knows that Piper will definitely bring it up later if she notices and she just doesn’t want to deal with that right now. She’s lucky that the daughter of Aphrodite is too immersed in her conversation with Jason to notice Annabeth being lowkey a simp in the corner.

She’s tired from the day, so Annabeth doesn’t really bother adding to any of the conversations around her. Halfway through dinner, Chiron announces a campfire meeting, which can only mean that Capture the Flag is coming up, so Annabeth quickly finishes her food and heads to the campfire, meaning to make sure everything’s set up before the assembly.

“Mind if I join you?” comes a familiar voice, and Annabeth turns to see Percy jogging her way, the tips of his hair glinting from the light of the braziers of the mess hall.

“Uh, no,” she says hesitantly. “Did you— eat enough?” She’s sure Percy’s burger had been only half-finished when she left the table, but he just shrugs.

“I’m good,” is all he says, so she nods and drops it.

“I’m heading to the Big House,” she says, “to get some extra cushions and stuff. We have a lot already, but since you guys are here…I figured, just in case, right?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, “of course. I’ll help.”

“Cool.”

The walk to the Big House is a short one but it feels…intimate. Possibly because of the silence, the soft light in their path, and the fireflies that flit around them. The air gets heavy the way it always does whenever it’s just the two of them and Annabeth resolutely refuses to look at Percy, searching her mind for something to say to break the ice, but he beats her to it.

“So our best friends seem to really like each other,” he says, and she grasps at the subject with both hands gratefully.

“I don’t know about how it’s going on your end,” she says, “but Piper’s definitely got a crush.”

“Jason’s soooo whipped,” Percy says at once, laughing freely. “He’s a goner. Give him the word and he’ll probably make the transfer.”

That gets her attention. She glances at him. “Transfer?” she asks. “Here?”

Percy nods.

“Nobody does that,” Annabeth says. “I mean, I know you can do it, but —” she shrugs — “but nobody does.”

His eyes slide to her, a silent test. “Maybe nobody’s found a reason to stay.”

She holds his gaze for a moment before turning away, focusing instead on a rock on the path. She kicks it lightly and watches it bounce away. “To each their own, I guess. I don’t think I’d do it.”

“You don’t believe in true love?” he asks, half-playful, half-earnest.

“It’s nothing like that. Just because I’m not wild about it like the Aphrodite kids doesn’t mean I’m heartless.” She spares him a glance as she unlocks the front door of the Big House and holds the door open for him. “Just means that I’m focused on my career on the outside as a Hero. And I’m too attached to this place to even consider training and debuting anywhere else.”

“A child of Athena, career-oriented,” Percy says under his breath. The words come out in a husky whisper in the empty, musty hallway. “What a shock.”

She bristles. “Got a problem?”

“Not at all.” His eyes meet hers, sparkling in the dim neon lights. “I’ve just noticed that you get really intense about this Hero stuff.”

“Maybe I’ve got my reasons.”

“Care to share?”

“Nope,” she says bluntly, and he laughs, “Fair enough.”

She leads him to the break room, where they usually show new recruits the initiation videos. Annabeth gathers up an armful of cushions as Percy looks around, thumbing through the CDs on the shelf in the corner.

He holds one up. “Pro Heroes and How You Fit In?”

Annabeth smiles despite herself. “That’s a good one. Chiron showed me that one when I first got to Camp. It was a lot to take in for a seven-year-old, I had a lot of questions afterwards.”

“You came to Camp at seven?” he asks, eyes wide and interested. “That’s…really young.”

“Yeah,” she says without bothering to elaborate. “You?”

“Thirteen,” he says. “Monsters caught me in school — Lupa found me when they chased me.”

“That’s right on schedule for most demigods,” she says. “Congrats on sticking with the curve.”

“Congrats on staying ahead of it.”

She laughs shortly. “Doesn’t matter when we graduate, though.”

“Maybe it will,” Percy says lightly. He places the CD back in its holder. “We don’t have videos like this in New Rome,” he says thoughtfully, eyeing the TV on the wall. “When I joined up, I was slapped into a group with the other probatios and our cohort leaders gave us the whole rundown.” He glances her way and gives her a crooked little smile. “There was a whole Q-and-A session afterwards.”

“It’s a lot to take in for anyone,” Annabeth allows. “The Greek and Roman gods are alive? I’m a what? What’s the Mist? Mortals know about monsters but not the gods? The Heroes I see on TV are actually demigods? I get to be a Hero if I want to? It’s…a lot.”

“I started cracking up when my cohort leader explained the whole cycle of the gods faking their deaths to stay in charge of their agency.” Percy snorts. “It’s so wild, honestly. The whole thing. Demigods being whole Marvel superheroes on the outside, saving mortals who don’t even know the half of it. Poor mortals. They haven’t even gotten used to the monsters yet. If they find out what’s really going on, their tiny little minds will be completely blown.”

“Imagine not knowing…anything,” she hums.

“Couldn’t be me.” Percy stacks several cushions in his arms. “So…you’re going Hero, right?”

She feels herself bristling, walls rising up. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing,” he says easily, his eyes trained on hers intensely. “I am, too.”

“Well, of course you are,” she snorts under her breath. She secures her load and nods at the door.

He takes the cue and leads them both to the main hall, then out the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“Of course I’m gonna go for Hero,” he replies, kind of sharply. “With an emphasis on the of course. What’d you mean?”

Damn it, she thinks. Why’s he so freaking straightforward? Why can’t he pussyfoot around the topic like a normal person?

“Means exactly what it means,” she says calmly. “You’re a son of one of the Big Three. You’re Blessed. It’s natural for you to go for Hero. The road’s practically laid out for you with a red carpet.”

He frowns, eyes trained ahead. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she replies.

“I’m not gonna deny that the path’s been clear for me right from the start,” he says, after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m lucky to be Blessed. You just seem so bitter about it, though.”

“Of course I’m bitter,” she says, surprisingly easily. “I’m not Blessed. I’m going to have to work a lot harder to be a Hero.” She shrugs and a cushion falls from the pile and onto the grass. She hooks her toes underneath it, kicks it up, and catches it easily, aware of Percy watching her closely.

“Just because you aren’t Blessed at birth doesn’t mean you’re lesser than,” he says quietly.

She frowns, annoyed. “I didn’t say that.”

He stops. “Neither did I.”

“You kinda just did,” she points out.

He huffs. “I said you’re not lesser than. In fact, you’re anything but.”

She halts, too, feeling her throat constrict. “Look, I don’t need your pity, okay? I know I’ve got my work cut out for me, but I’ll be fine.”

“Pity?” he exclaims, with an incredulous laugh. “Where are you even getting all this from?”

“You don’t need to say it,” she retorts, irritated. “It’s all over your face.” She can hardly bear to look at it. His eyes wide with sympathy, his brows scrunched together. At her words, though, his expression smooths out into one of total indifference.

“It’s whatever,” she tells him tightly before he can say anything. “Like I said. I know what I’m getting into. But I’ve got a plan to get to the top of the ranks, so you can stop pitying me.” She hails another camper — Travis, who smiles at both of them wordlessly and takes away a few of both their cushions before leading them both to the campfire, where a lot of campers have already convened. Annabeth stays quiet throughout it all and dumps the cushions unceremoniously when she gets to the circle. She walks away to where her siblings are gathering, still avoiding Percy’s gaze, feeling oddly bereft. Piper’s still in deep conversation with Jason and she doesn’t want to interrupt that, so she settles for taking a seat as far away from Percy as she can out of sheer pettiness.

It’s not long before Chiron joins them. There’s a couple of minutes of brief announcements — the first Capture the Flag will be next weekend, and the declaration is followed by hoots and jeers from both sides. He explains a little bit about the general rules, and then takes pity on their tired faces and beckons the saytrs and dryads foward, who take out their instruments and begin to play.

It's a carefree, fun time. The Greeks lead the singalong, repeating every line twice so the Romans can catch on, and before long everyone’s getting into it. It’s a bit messy and kinda lame, but Annabeth’s found that sometimes it’s good to just. Throw back your head and belt out a tune. It’s surprisingly freeing.

Today, though, she isn’t in the mood. Everyone else is, so she does her best to smile and laugh at the others as she leans closer into Malcolm’s side. She hums to the songs and gazes up at the fire, which has risen unusually high tonight. It’s a spectacular golden colour, too. She hasn’t seen it like this — this merry — in maybe…ever.

In time, she closes her eyes. She feels drained, somehow. Emotionally. Mentally. There’s something like a heavy stone setting down on her chest, making it so that it’s hard to breathe.

She kind of feels like crying. Not a full-blown cry, or anything — a couple of tears would be enough. It’s just…unfair. The Blessed. The ones who aren’t. It’s just shit. Because Annabeth wants to be a Hero more than anything. She wants to do some good in the world, she wants to put Kronos and his cronies right in the deepest pit in Tartarus, where they belong. She wants her mom to acknowledge her skills.

Discreetly, like she’s wiping her eyes against the smoke from the bonfire, she brushes the tears away.

It’ll be fine. Eventually. She’s got her plan, after all.

She steadfastly ignores the glint of green eyes that zero in on her the entire night.

・・・・・

The day of the War Games turns out to be a cold one.

It’s a promising kind of day. Cold but sunny, still a little windy but not enough for her to break out a jacket. Annabeth wakes up bright and early without having to be told, takes a shower, and makes her way to the dining area. Campers who cross her path call her by name to wish her luck, and it makes her grin.

She doesn’t need luck. She’s going to win.

Thankfully, her usual table is devoid of Romans today. They’re all huddled up, gathered around their own tables today, listening intently as Jason explains something in a low, confident voice. Several of them turn her way as she walks past them; Annabeth sits down, the perfect picture of calm, and meets Percy’s eyes, making sure to pick out the purplest grape she can find on her plate and pop it into her mouth.

Percy actually smiles so widely he has to bite his lip from letting it show. Satisfied, she turns to her food.

Piper joins her soon after, followed by a couple of her siblings and, unsurprisingly, Sherman. Clarisse’s younger sibling isn’t Annabeth’s favorite person by a long shot but there’s definitely mutual respect between them, and defending their camp’s pride is something they can definitely agree on.

“Hey,” she says lowly. “All ready?”

“Electric spear’s all charged up,” he says, shoving a strip of bacon into his mouth unceremoniously. “I’m ready to gut some fish.”  He says it loud enough for Percy to hear, but he doesn’t even look up. Annabeth frowns.

Today the chatter is lively without being too loud, and the air feels nice and tense with anticipation, the way it usually gets before Capture the Flag games. Chiron gallops into the hall, blows his horn for attention, and greets them all smilingly before giving everyone a quick rundown of the rules.

“We begin at nightfall,” he says. “Remember—”

“No maiming,” Annabeth grumbles.

Chiron snots. “No maining. Indeed. Both teams are to gather at the hearth before we begin, as is tradition.” He smiles round at them. “Good luck to everyone participating.”

There’s a chorus of thank yous before everyone begins to disperse — Annabeth gestures for Leo, Butch, Will, Clarisse, Malcolm, Michael, Travis, Connor, Lou Ellen, and Katie to linger. She waits for the Romans to leave, ends up making eye contact with Percy again, who sniffs at her before turning away — and finally, she brings out the map.

She’s proud of it. She’d made it after her very first War Games — which she’d lost, actually — and had spent hours and hours trekking through the forest to get it exactly accurate. Even though it’s a couple of years old, now, it still serves its purpose well.

Annabeth brings out a pen and circles the campfire.

“We start here,” she says. “Lou Ellen, how long do you need?”

“Half an hour at the least,” Lou says. “Annabeth, you’re sure about this, though? Manipulating the Labyrinth is —”

“Doable,” Malcolm says confidently. “Right?”

“Doable, but dangerous,” Lou Ellen counters. “You want us to manipulate the Labyrinth just to trap one person?” That’s kind of nuts.”

“Trap one and spit out another just where we need him to be,” Annabeth says. “Look, we know the first thing that Hazel’s gonna do is get underground. Whether she finds the Labyrinth or not, we need to keep her distracted. Use the Mist to spin her around in circles.”

Lou Ellen nods, her jawline set. “Got it.” She and Piper glance at each other. “We’re also gonna try using Piper to give Hazel ‘hints.’ Hints that hopefully sound subconscious; maybe it’ll confuse her.”

“And Percy?” Annabeth asks.

“I’ll make sure he sees me using the other entrance,” Leo says, rolling his eyes.  “I don’t see why I have to be the bait.”

“You’re only half the bait,” Katie reminds him.

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. “Once we get him into the Labyrinth, we need him to get out of it —”

“Right where I am,” Annabeth says. “With the decoy flag.” She nods at Malcolm. “Did Preeti finish weaving it?”

“This morning,” Malcolm beams.

“Good,” Annabeth says. “I’ll take care of Percy.”

“I mean, not that I doubt you,” Piper chimes in, “but what’s stopping him from just — leaving? It’s going to be just you with the fake flag. There’s no way he won’t suspect it’s a trap.”

“Trust me,” Annabeth grits out, grinning, “I’ll keep him there.”

It’s quiet as everyone digests this; a couple of them look concerned, but not enough to actually dispute her. Even if they do have their doubts, Annabeth’s going to prove them wrong. This — this actual fight between her and Percy is inevitable, something that she’s known will happen for weeks now, and she suspects he knows it too. There’s no way he’s going to turn away from the opportunity to fight her one-on-one with their actual weapons and nobody to stop them.

She tingles with anticipation at the thought of it. Today it ends — and then what? Then maybe she can finally be free of this fucking itch, that’s what. She can’t wait.

“Okay,” Travis drawls. “So that two of the Big Three taken care of. What about Jason?”

“Then we just throw everything we’ve got at Jason and pray for the best,” Malcolm shrugs.

“Should be easy,” Will says faintly.

“He doesn’t use lightning,” Piper chimes in, her cheeks darkening slightly when everyone turns to her. “Or if he does, he isn’t very good at it. He’s really good at — at summoning these big winds, but he needs space and time to do it, so don’t give him that.”

“We can do it,” Butch rumbles.

“If all else fails, just shove Piper at him,” Annabeth says, smirking. “Shove them into a room and let ‘em make out until we get their flag.”

Everyone laughs; Piper stickers her tongue out at her and teases, “Joke’s on you because I’ll go willingly.” Annabeth laughs and bumps her shoulder.

“We can do this,” she says, after a moment of silence. “We gotta win, guys.”

“Hands in!” Katie crows, shoving her fist outward; everyone mimics the motion.

“Greece!” They yell in synchrony, before dispersing; Annabeth doesn’t stop them. Since today’s Capture the Flag day, the participants are exempted from usual camp activities. Annabeth knows for a fact that Piper’s going to take a nap before (and after) lunch, so she heads alone to the arena to throw some knives at the training dummies. Y’know, to relax.

There are three places at Camp Half-Blood where Annabeth feels most at home. One is the library at the back wing of the Athena Cabin, where Annabeth can read and read and read without being disturbed because now she’s counselor and she calls the shots. One is — weirdly enough — the lake, where she feels very zen and one with nature and all that nonsense (Grover would be proud of her). And the last one is the arena, where Annabeth really feels alive.

She loves fighting and she’s good at it. The Athena counsellor when she’d first arrived had been a keen enthusiast of most martial arts and Annabeth had been eager to absorb it all. She’d never really gotten the hang of karate but she grew to love judo and aikido and she was right up there with Clarisse when it came to wrestling on the mat. She’s passable with a bow, okay with a spear, better with a sword but best with a knife, and Annabeth’s trained for years and years to get good at using them all. She’s built her body to be a weapon and it shows. She’s lean, lined with muscle, with sharp elbows and a sharper gaze. Everyone at Camp now knows not to underestimate her, and once she becomes a Hero, the world will know it, too.

But what she prides herself most for is her brain. She’s observed enough people by now to know that the rate at which she processes and understands information is higher than the average. She takes in information like it’s her job: she’s intelligent and she knows it, which might sound arrogant but she doesn’t think being aware of it is a bad thing at all. It’s taught her to be resilient and it’s taught her to be adaptable. She makes plans and backup plans and backups for the backups and she doesn’t like being surprised. Because she might one day be disarmed in battle, sure, but she’s gonna make it so that there’s no way in hell she’ll ever be outsmarted.

The thing is, though — Athena’s the goddess of wisdom. And a lot of people would use intelligent and wise in the same way, but there’s a difference. There is. Annabeth knows she’s intelligent and she’s been called it many, many times, but nobody’s ever said she’s wise.

She supposes that wisdom isn’t something you can just acquire in a day, or a week, or a month, or even years. There’s a reason the word is associated with age, because it comes with decades of life experience and learning. But Annabeth doesn’t have the luxury of time. If she wants to be Blessed, she needs to prove her wisdom to her mom and she has to do it fast.

Her train of thought isn’t leading anywhere good as she gets to the arena and by the time she’s made her way to the first training dummy she’s really in the mood to impale something. She gathers an armful of knives from the rack and throws one at a dummy. It lodges itself in the chest.

She takes a couple of steps backward and does it again, and then moves further away and does it again, and again, and again, watching with satisfaction as every blade finds its mark every single time. Annabeth extracts all the knives from the poor mannequin’s chest, switches to her left hand, and does it all over again.

Slow clapping stops her in her tracks, and she turns to see Percy leaning against a pillar and smiling. He claps a couple more times — the noise rings in her ears — before stepping forward. Annabeth searches his face for some sign that he’s sneering at her, but he looks genuinely impressed.

“Your aim is great,” he praises. “Just as good as the marksmen back at New Rome. You could even give Reyna a run for her money.”

“I have,” she says shortly. She’s watched Reyna throwing spears. It’s a sight to behold, but Annabeth thinks she can do better.

Percy’s own sword is strapped at his side. He claps his hand on the hilt, a challenge, an invitation.

It’s a beautiful blade, as far as she can tell. Imperial Gold that shines in a different way than her own Celestial Bronze dagger. Percy holds it with all the grace and air of a veteran swordsman, which she had expected to some degree, but it’s still a whole other experience to actually see how at home he is with a weapon in his hand. You can tell a lot about a warrior when you watch him around his weapon, and she’s soaking it all in right now, drawing conclusions even though she’s never actually seen him fight.

And yet. All of his visible comfort and experience around swords, yet there’s something off, somehow. In the way his fingers flex over the leather hilt. This sword — it doesn’t fit him, she realizes with a little thrill, and he’s trying his best not to show it.

She can use this. If she could get him into a defensive position, she could disarm him —

He smiles at her coldly, and she’s quickly reminded that while he might be uncomfortable with his weapon, it won’t matter because he’s skilled enough to make up for it.

“Wanna spar for a bit?” he asks her, grin wolflike, and oh there’s nothing she wants more. She eyes him critically, thinking, because there’s no way there’s no ulterior motive here. On one hand, she’s dying to get an idea of his fighting style. On the other, what’s to stop him from playing dirty, and besides, she’s pretty sure that if they start sparring now, it’ll elevate into something…more. She isn’t sure that more means here. She doesn’t trust herself enough to find out.

She meets his gaze with a level one of her own, and maybe it’s her imagination, but she thinks she feels the air around them grow thick and heavy. Light flashes across his eyes and it’s a real effort to not get sucked into — this. This heady feeling of just throwing away all logic and caution and rational thinking. It scares and delights her in equal measure, because in all her years of training she’s never, ever felt like this before. She’s met people she’s superior to in terms of skill and people she wants to learn from. But Percy makes her want to show off, which is absurd. Percy makes her want to…she wants him to kneel and acknowledge her. She wants to show him his place.

With Percy, it feels like she’s met her match.

“No, thank you,” she says politely. “I’m sure we’ll have the chance later.”

“That’s a shame, but I understand,” he shoots back calmly, evidently having expected her response — and that pisses her off, but it’s fine. She’ll settle it on the battlefield.

“Do you mind if I borrow the training dummies?” he asks sweetly, but the glint in his eyes suggests something more threatening. “I’d like to get some practice in before tonight.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you need it,” Annabeth says, with a syrupy laugh. “Feel free to use them all, I’m done here.”

Percy looks half-offended, and half like he wants to laugh. “Alright then,” he says. “You can stick around, though, if you want. I don’t mind, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

It’s as though he knows exactly where her buttons are and just how to push them. She purses her lips.

“Like I said, I’m done here,” she grits out, sheathing her dagger and backing away. “I’ll see you tonight. If we cross paths during the game, I mean.”

“I’m sure we will,” Percy says, eyes lidded as he waves a goodbye. She isn’t quite sure what to make of that, so she turns around and begins to walk away.

She’s almost out of the arena when she hears the sounds. A faint swoosh followed by a thwack, a regular beat that rings out every few seconds.

Unable to stand her own curiosity, she turns back.

Percy’s practicing with a single training dummy. Brows knit together in concentration, he waves his sword in the air, a seemingly meaningless action until a gash appears in the dummy before him as though out of thin air.

Heart pounding, she squints harder.

Does he have air powers, like Jason? Is this his Blessing? Evidently it’s a move he’s still working on — he’s slowing with every repetition and there’s already a sheen of sweat beading against his forehead. But what the hell is it?

The realization nearly makes her laugh aloud, and she has to clap a hand over her mouth when she figures it out.

It’s water vapor. Of course it is. His Blessing from Poseidon is probably hydrokinesis in all its forms — she knows he can freeze water, so of course he should be able to condense or vaporize it, too. It’s only logical that way. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

She hates to admit it, but she’s impressed. Obviously, she doesn’t know what she’d do with a Blessing if she was lucky enough to be born with one, but she knows she’d push her Blessing to its limits, and so she has to admire his tenacity at mastering his. With control over water and ice, Percy’s already expanding his sphere of control, but here he is, finding new ways to master his skills. As a learner at heart, Annabeth can appreciate this.

And it lights the old fire inside her all over again. The Blessed can’t rely on raw talent alone to get through a battle. Percy needs an education in what hard work and purpose really mean. He’s skilled and she’s sure he’s determined, but Annabeth? Annabeth is all of that times a hundred. She knows that he knows not to take her lightly, but surely, as a Blessed, he must be underestimating her to some degree. They all do. And that’s her biggest advantage.

She’s going to show him just how resolute this daughter of Athena can be.

・・・・・

Annabeth waits alone in the clearing.

The fake flag has been erected onto a random pole Leo’d dragged in from Bunker Nine: it stands a couple of feet behind her, Camp Half-Blood’s logo shimmering even in the dark.

The battle, she knows, is moments away.

She can’t quite explain the urge to fight Percy. It’s just something she has to do, to prove — well. To prove to herself that she can take on a Blessed? To prove to her mom that she’ll do anything to uphold the honor of her name? Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

She just wants to prove to Percy that she can kick his ass concave even without a fancy Blessing. The ease with which he flaunts his powers, his superhuman ability to poke her where it stings, and the stupid, stupid smirk that crops up every time she so much as breathes in his vicinity — all of it pisses her off beyond comprehension. She’s seriously wanted to put her fist in his face since the moment he landed at Camp, and the urge to do so is so strong that it’s quite honestly a miracle she hasn’t given in to yet.

She knows she’s not the victim here, though — not by a long shot. No, she’d thrown the first shot, she’s been going out of her way to pick a fight with him, too, so much so that she’s sure that the longing to fight must be mutual by now.

There’s…something between them. Something that effectively makes her reach into her skull, grasp her brain, and then. Just. Throw it away.

She feels — wild, almost, when she’s around him. There’s not really another word for it. Being around Percy makes her feel like she’s breaking the rules and it’s a fucking rush. Like she’s being reckless, somehow, even if they were do something as innocuous as sitting down and chatting about the weather. It’s just…this omnipresent thing in the air all the time when they’re around each other.

She likes it, she realizes with a pang of what might be regret. She likes it — too bad it’ll probably be gone after the fight.

This fight.

Her spine is tingling like she’s been zapped with lightning. She can hear sounds of battle ringing around her, bursts of thunder from Jason and battle cries from minor skirmishes across the forest. Once in a while there’s a rumble from Underground; hopefully this means Lou Ellen and her siblings are still keeping Hazel occupied down there. Hopefully this means their plan is underway, which means Percy will be here soon.

Annabeth sits on a boulder by the stream and idly runs her fingers across the moss that’s built up on the pebbles. She wonders if she’s being a tad overconfident in choosing this space to confront a son of Poseidon, but — oh well. She’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

It’ll make her victory sweeter, anyway.

She takes comfort in the familiar weight of her armor and dagger, briefly feeling her arms and legs for the other, smaller knives concealed there. She’s pretty much armed to the teeth at this point, but she knows every weapon will come in handy. No victory is easily achieved, even on a good day, and she’s certain Percy’s going to make her work for it.

There’s a shift in the rock formation in the hillock right in front of her and Annabeth looks up to see Percy stumbling out of the opening, breathing heavily, a gash opening up on the underside of his jaw. He leans against the rocks, wiping sweat from his brow, and Annabeth waits patiently as he looks around, clearly wondering where he is and what to do next.

She knows the exact moment he spies her perching like a harmless forest nymph by the brook, because he lets out a bark of laughter. It’s not sneering or anything, it’s pure amusement, and the realness of it makes her own lips quirk upwards against her better judgement.

She stands up as he splashes across the stream to make his way to her. He looks — bright. His smile’s lighting up his whole body. She can’t help it, either, grinning as he approaches.

“So this was your plan,” he laughs. His eyes flit quickly to where the flag flutters before they sharpen on her. “I knew something was up when I was separated from Hazel, and I knew I was being led somewhere. I wondered where you were, if I’m being real with you. I thought you’d be right at the front of the ambush team. But — here you are.”

“Here I am,” she agrees.

He glances around him as though waiting for an ambush, so she decides to put him out of his misery. “There’s nobody else here.” When he glances at her skeptically, she raises her hand as though taking an oath. “I swear on the Styx.”

He blinks in surprise. “Really, now.”

“Really.”

“Just you, and me — and the flag?” He tilts his chin towards it. “Seems all too easy, even though I don’t know where in these godforsaken woods I am, and I’m sure you know that.”

“I wouldn’t call it easy,” she says, bristling.

“You know I’m a son of Neptune, right?” he responds, and he’s not even being cocky, which almost makes it worse. She wants to beat him so bad, gods. “I mean, I’ve seen you fight — a little. I know you’re good, but—”

“But you don’t think I can take you?” she surmises.

“You probably can,” he laughs. “Actually, I know you can. But I also know you’re smart, and that there’s something here I’m missing.” His gaze bores deeply into hers. “Your Camp may not have praetors like we do, but if they did elect a leader, you’d be it. I can tell everyone trusts you, but it’s hard to see why they’d let you guard the Flag all alone.”

“They know I can handle myself,” Annabeth bluffs, delighted despite herself that he sees the hole in his assumption of her plan, even though he hasn’t clocked that the flag is fake qyet. “And — more importantly, they know we’ve been itching to fight, and they know that I can — and will — win.” She shrugs. “Simple as that.”

His lips twist into a smirk. “Itching to fight?”

“Have you not been?” Annabeth allows herself a moment of doubt — has this fight perhaps been truly onesided on her end after all? — but then Percy is laughing, shaking his head.

“An itch is a good way to put it,” he relents, and when his gaze snaps to meet hers she feels all the breath whoosh from her body as though sucked up by a vacuum cleaner. “I thought I was going crazy. Ever since the canoe race — no, even before that—”

“I wanted to fight you so bad,” she bursts out, which would be embarrassing if he wasn’t nodding fervently right there with her.

“So you’re finally ready to spar now?” he jokes, an excited edge to his voice that confirms he’s been waiting for this, too, the same way she has.

“Of course,” she responds, removing her dagger from her belt and raising it to eye level. “Terms?”

“Fight to win,” he says simply.

“No maiming, Chiron said.”

“I mean, I don’t want you to kill me,” Percy jokes, swiping away a swatch of blood on his thumb, “but if we’re going to do this without holding back, there might be some minor injuries.” He pauses, surveying her with hooded eyes. “But what do you say we make things interesting?”

She cocks her head, curiosity piqued. “How?”

He grins wildly, then begins fiddling with his armor, long, deft fingers working quickly on one strap, then another. Annabeth can’t believe what she’s seeing until it drops to the ground, a clang that resonates in her ears even though it’s instantly overshadowed by a crackle of electricity from another corner of the woods.

He spreads his arms, now clad only in his purple Camp Jupiter t-shirt and dark sweatpants. “You in?” His next smile bares all his teeth. “Unless you want to fight with armor on. I don’t mind.” His voices gets all sympathetic, patronizing. She hates the reaction it rouses in her.

She snorts. “You’re such an asshole.”

He laughs loudly as she methodically removes her armor and places it next to his.

“Please,” he says, cocky. “You’ve been just as big of an asshole. You want to kick my ass so bad — it’s written all over your face.”

“I’m not denying it,” she responds, shrugging. “But you can’t deny that you’ve been trying your best to piss me off since the day you got here.”

He bows his head like he’s flattered. “I try, I try,” he says.

She laughs, too excited to even care about the fact that this is the freest she’s ever been around him. From the way his smile changes, just slightly, he’s noticed it too, but a second later he’s bringing out his sword and settling into a fighting stance.

Annabeth inhales deeply as she shifts into hers. “Count us down?”

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to just…begin?” he asks, unmoving.  Like a still pond, like the split second before a wave crashes onto the shore.

“If you say so,” she says, and then, without warning, she lunges.

・・・・・

It’s a frenzy immediately. Percy is already moving to block her initial strike before he realizes it’s a feint and slides his sword smoothly to his side, where his blade meets hers with a sharp metallic shing. His resulting thrust would have tripped her up had she not jumped up to avoid it, and when she lands she barely has enough time to counter.

Annabeth had wondered if he fought like a Roman and today one of her questions is answered, because Percy doesn’t fight like his peers in the slightest. He fights like a goddamn wild animal, like he’s got something to lose. Annabeth’s seen Romans fight, and this is nothing like it. His movements flow like the wind, like water, one strike blending cleanly into the next, seamless footwork accompanying dizzying skill and surprising strength. Annabeth focuses on defending as she watches him, storing his every move in the hard drive of her mind, observing, analyzing, waiting for the opening she knows will come.

“You’re really good,” she tells him as she catches his next strike, pushing him onto his back foot as their weapons cross. The impasse gives her a good chance to look right at him. “Where’d you learn to fight like this? Your style’s much more Greek than Roman.”

“Spent a year with Lupa before she took me to Camp Jupiter,” he explains, barely winded, and she aahs like a reporter who’s just been fed a vital tidbit to the story.

He snorts, applying more force and breaking their stalemate by forcing both their weapons downward. He kicks out in the gap and Annabeth rolls to the side, removing one of the knives strapped to her thighs as she does so. Percy whistles when she brandishes it at him.

What follows next is several minutes of just brawling. Annabeth stops thinking entirely and relies on instinct as they both throw whatever they’ve got at each other with almost reckless abandon. Percy slashes and whirls, ducking and dodging her every attempt at a stab, and Annabeth’s forced to move with a single-minded focus like she’s never done before, contorting herself into complex rolls and handsprings to avoid his own endeavors to land a strike. They don’t talk, there’s no time to. All of Annabeth’s senses narrow down to Percy, Percy, only Percy, zeroing in on his every slight movement.

Her heart is pounding but her head is clear, and she moves better and faster than she ever has. It’s like being high, like being so drunk you reach a point of complete and total serenity. She can feel the blood rushing through her body, sense what her brain is thinking a split half-second before her body goes ahead and just does it. It’s crazy, it’s euphoric, and she’s happy. She’s so happy he’s giving a run for every single penny’s worth of her money — and it’s exhilarating. It’s liberating. And she can tell from the way he’s grinning that he feels it, too.

She’d been right, before, about his discomfort with his sword. Every strike Annabeth makes gets closer and closer to the hilt and she can see how his grip’s not as natural as it should be. To hold a sword you don’t need to be particularly tight, you need to be light — anything otherwise means something’s wrong with either the sword or the holder, and — well. Percy seems perfectly fine, so it must be the sword.

He seems fine — which brings her to another matter entirely.

Growling and crouching, she balances on her heels and slashes both daggers outward. Percy flips backward to avoid it, and instead of closing the distance, Annabeth stands where she is and points a knife at him.

“Why,” she pants, “aren’t you using your powers?”

He stops in his tracks. “What?”

“You heard me.” She glares at him. “What, did you think I wouldn’t be able to take it?”

Percy goggles at her. “I figured it would only be fair if—”

“Don’t look down on me!” she snaps, seeing red. “I may not be Blessed but I’m still competent, and you not using your powers is, frankly, insulting. So bring it on, Water Boy. You have five seconds.” She slowly shifts her weight onto her back foot, calming her breathing and grasping her knife, bringing it behind her shoulder.

“Five,” she says. “Four, three, two—” She throws the knife on one. It zooms right towards Percy, who seems torn between deflecting it or biting down and using his powers, but at the last minute he decides on the latter, simply waving his arm and summoning a jet of water from the stream. It turns to ice in front of him just as the dagger sinks into it with a sickening crack.

Percy lets the ice thaw and picks the dagger up from the ground. He tosses it back at her feet.

“That would’ve hit me between the eyes,” he remarks.

“Damn straight it would’ve,” she shoots back, picking up the knife and rubbing away the dirt on her thigh. “Now show me some respect.”

She throws the knife again, this time unstrapping another and repeating the motion before sprinting right back at him. Percy stops both knives with another motion of his arm but he isn’t quick enough to block her next strike, an upward thrust that he only barely manages to dodge. Growling, he straightens and slashes at her with his sword, a strike that completely misses her entirely and has her smirking until she remembers his training from earlier in the day and gets up her dagger just in time to deflect the blade of water vapor that materializes out of thin air right in front of her face.

The suddenness of it startles her. She lets out a shaky sigh as what remains of the liquid sword drops to the soil.

Percy’s breathing harder than before. He raises an accusing eyebrow. “I knew you were watching me practice.”

“Know thy enemy,” she counters, before lashing out again.

She can’t lie — she’s getting tired. Her sword arm is beginning to throb and her legs are aching, too. At this point she suspects that she’s only on her feet out of pure spite; by the way things are looking, she can outlast Percy, who’s making up for his exhaustion by performing unnecessarily grandiose movements, like taking larger swipes with his sword and trying to use the water to snake around her feet and trip her up, which she privately thinks is just petty.

On her last thread of strength, she catches Percy’s next swing on the hilt of her dagger, a motion that she’s rarely successfully pulled off before, and they’re both unprepared for the halt it brings them to. As a result, Percy’s sword flies off to the right and Annabeth’s dagger falls to her feet — the moment she makes a move to kick at it Percy tackles her and sends them both crashing to the ground.

“Asshole,” she grunts, twisting her legs around his torso and attempting to get him in a chokehold, but he wheezes in protest and what feels like an entire bucket of cold water slams right onto her head from above. She shrieks and lets go; Percy uses the opportunity to scramble back to his sword, but Annabeth recovers quicker and gets to it before he can, kicking it further away and drawing a frustrated groan from him that actually makes her laugh out loud.

She whips around, drawing her final knife from her shoulder and pointing it right between his eyes, only to find that he’s got a dagger aimed right at the center of her chest. She feels her eyes widen. He must’ve grabbed it from her leg when they were wrestling, and she hadn’t even noticed — stupid, stupid!

For a what feels like at least five minutes they just stand there, weapons held aloft, both sides unyielding. They’re close. Closer than she’s ever been to him before, surely. She’s so close she can see the beads of sweat on his upper lip and the way his eyes are shining. And then Annabeth realizes that she doesn’t want this to end. She’s actually having fun.

She wants to go on. She wants to fight more, to let the flame inside her burn like this for longer. She wants to see how much more he can push her to be stronger, faster, better. She stares at him, at the way his chest his heaving, at the column of his throat as he swallows, eyes darting across her face as he waits for her to make her move.

For a split second, she lets her eyes flicker to his lips. She-She wants—

Cheers rise from the trees, and Percy and Annabeth jerk apart, stricken. Annabeth takes a shaky breath, not trusting herself to look at him.

There’s a crackle amidst the shouts, and a firework launches into the sky. She waits with bated breath until it explodes in a supernova of orange sparks and she can finally breathe again. Orange. Orange! They’ve won!

“But…” Percy grunts, glancing away from her for a split second to gawk at the fake flag that, to be honest, she’d totally forgotten about.

“Decoy,” she says.

He turns back around to fix her with a wide-eyed stare, and then he tips his head back and laughs and laughs like he can’t stop. Annabeth watches the pale column of his throat and slowly lowers her knife, allowing a reluctant grin to break across her face.

“You’re really something else,” Percy sighs, sagging, before he flips her dagger in his hand, offering her the hilt. “I was so obsessed with fighting you that it didn’t even occur to me that if this was actually the flag, you’d have backup ready to capture me — though, if I’m being honest, I forgot I had to, well, capture the flag.” He laughs again. “Well played.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” she says, taking the knife and strapping it back to her thigh with purpose.

“You kept me here, which I’m sure was your plan all along,” Percy huffs, rolling his neck. “A smarter man would’ve taken one look at the flag — fake or not — and sounded a call for backup.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to fight you, too.” She doesn’t say that she’d counted on him staying, doesn’t say that she kind of. Still. Wants him to stay. “Guess it was a tie, huh.”

“Guess so.” He considers her. “At the risk of sounding condescending — you were way better than I expected. I knew your confidence had to come from somewhere, but…still.”

She’s too tired to read too much into it. “You too.”

“Your knife throwing got kinda sloppy towards the end, though,” he says.

She stands up straight, frowning. “Yeah, well, you need to get a better handle on using your powers, because you got so slow it was laughable. And since you rely so much on your powers, you suck at hand to hand. And also you need to get a better sword—” she scowls at him as he throws back his head and laughs again. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, still chortling, and when he faces her his eyes are crinkled and he’s pouring with sweat and there’s a cut on his forearm and even though it’s dark Annabeth feels all the breath get sucked out of her lungs. She’s spent so long being resentful of him that she’d forgotten just how beautiful he really is.

“Nothing,” he says again, quieter, as he staggers to his sword, considers it for a moment before sheathing it with a kind of resigned air about him.

“Then why are you laughing like that,” she says quietly, falling into step beside him. Now that she’s not filled to the brim with adrenaline, her exhaustion and the cold is beginning to hit. Besides, she’s still dripping wet from Percy’s attack from earlier. She squeezes the ends of her hair and winces as water drips out.

“Let me help,” he says.

She nods, shivering, and watches as he reaches out an arm towards her. His fingers curl gracefully, a soft beckoning you’d expect to see on stage from a dancer, and her breath hitches as droplets of water rise from her hair and face and clothes, consolidating themselves into a thin stream that Percy directs back into the base of the closest tree.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” He eyes her as they begin to walk again. “And for what it’s worth, you were right.”

“About what?” she asks, genuinely curious.

He snorts. Their arms brush and it might’ve been a mistake, but Annabeth feels the point of contact heat up, white-hot, like his touch has been branded into her skin.

“About all of it,” he says, smiling, an image that imprints itself into her brain at once, and they spend the rest of their walk back to Camp in silence.

・・・・・

Annabeth can’t sleep.

It’s one in the morning and she still can’t sleep, even though by all accounts she should have been knocked out ages ago. Her body’s tired but her mind isn’t: she can still feel the adrenaline from the fight coursing through her even though she keeps her eyes resolutely shut for hours, hoping for sleep to eventually overtake her.

Finally, she gives up entirely and throws the covers off herself. She grabs something that feels warm and pads out her room, and then out of the building.

It’s kind of chilly outside; Annabeth shivers as she wraps her hoodie tighter around herself as she looks around, wondering where she can sit down and have a good think. Finally she sighs, shoves her hands into her pockets, and lets her feet just go.

She ends up, about fifteen minutes later, at the edge of the woods, where she hesitates slightly before venturing deeper. She’s got her dagger on her, anyway, and she should be able to deal with anything she comes across. She isn’t worried about getting lost or anything — she knows this forest like the back of her hand — but she sticks close to the stream, anyway.

It’s a while before she gets to the clearing where she’s fought Percy with tooth and nail mere hours ago. Dazed, Annabeth toes at the scuffed ground and snorts before deciding to move on, which is when she trips on something.

She yelps and hits the ground hard, reaching at once for her dagger, but she can barely move because of the metal at her throat.

“The fuck,” she rasps. The sword at her neck vanishes at once.

“Annabeth?”

“Percy?” she gapes, making out his dark shape half-sprawled on the ground. “Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here, lying on the ground — I thought you were a Myrmeke ant or something!”

Percy rubs at his nose. The harder she blinks the more of him comes into view — and he looks sheepish. As he should.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “I came outside for some air and just…ended up here.” His head snaps up. “Wait, why are you here?”

“Um,” she says. “Same reason. Couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to walk around, tire myself out, hopefully.”

They both stare at each other. Annabeth watches his silhouette take a deep breath and tries to remember how to be — normal. A normal, well-functioning human. Which she is.

As the silence grows longer and more awkward, she makes to stand up again, murmuring, “I’ll let you be,” right as Percy blurts out, “You can stay.”

She stops. “What?”

“You can stay, if you want. Or I can go. Or we can both — just be here. Coexist in the same space. That should be possible for us, right?” It’s the least coherent he’s ever been. He’s always been suave and mouthy around her, always ready with a comeback. This is — a change, to say the least, but there’s still something in that last line that suggests a challenge, so she shrugs as though none of the options really matter to her and sits down about a foot away from him. Percy relaxes, crossing both arms behind his head and staring up at the treetops.

She looks around, noting with some amusement that the fake flag she’d had her half-sibling Preeti weave for the game is still hanging desolately from its perch. She crawls to it, unhooks it, and throws it over her lap when she returns. After a moment’s hesitation, she throws it around Percy, too.

“Were you sleeping before I got here?” she asks him lowly.

“Nah,” he mumbles back. “Just…so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear you.”

She chews on her own lip thoughtfully. “I get that.”

“I suspected you might.”

She glances at him briefly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you seem like the kind of person who’s thinking a lot of things at once,” Percy says quietly, tiredly. “Jeez, Annabeth. You sure you didn’t come find me for a rematch?”

She can’t help but chuckle a little. “No. Maybe later, though. We never really…ended the fight.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Still, it kinda feels like I lost, y’know?”

She doesn’t reply. The confirmation is lodged in her throat, somehow, and Percy takes the chance to continue.

“Feels like I lost the war and the battle,” he says. “Which kinda sucks, not gonna lie.”

“I mean,” she finally gets out, “I feel like I won the war but lost the battle.” Nobody had gotten it when she’d tried to explain it to them after the game. She’s thrilled they won, of course — even though the Romans had actually hidden the flag underground and Jason and the actual army were just decoys, Annabeth’s initial strategy had held up well, with a couple of timely modifications courtesy of Malcolm, of course. Manipulating the Mist around Hazel and Percy had separated them both from the Flag, and with Annabeth keeping Percy busy, the Greeks captured the Flag pretty easily once they figured out where it was. It was a good victory, so why is Annabeth still left feeling so unsatisfied, so empty? Like’s she’s forgotten something vital?

“The stars are pretty,” Percy chimes in unexpectedly. He points at the sky. “Do you know your constellations?”

Which leaves Annabeth no choice but to lie down and have a look, too. “I’m out of touch — I don’t recognize any of the patterns,” she says. “The Hunters would be able to, no sweat.”

“I always wanted to learn them,” he replies.

“I could ask someone to teach you,” she offers. “Will knows a fair amount. Clovis, too.”

“Nah,” he dismisses easily. “I’d rather annoy you in Ancient Greek class.”

She closes her eyes and fights a smile. “I meant what I said before, you know. You really are a goddamn pain.”

“And you hold a grudge like nobody else I’ve ever met,” he comments in return. “We’ve all got our flaws.”

“Of course,” she says readily. “Yours are just gigantic, gaping ones, the size of—”

“Your ego,” Percy mutters.

She glares at the dark outline of him. “I really don’t like you.”

“Y’know what,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows, “I don’t really like you, either. Hell, I don’t even know you.”

“As if I’d ever give you the pleasure,” she retorts.

He huffs. “Gods, you’re so fucking stubborn. Drives me up the wall. Do you know Piper said you’re one of the sweetest people she’s ever met?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” she snaps back at once, and maybe she shouldn’t be this harsh, but she somehow senses that neither of them are being truly serious in their words. “Poor little Percy can’t stand one negative review.” She wrinkles her nose at the heavens. “You’re like — one of those people that everyone likes, so you can’t stand it when someone doesn’t like you as much, and so then you overcompensate by being extra nice — or, in my case, you just poke me, and poke me, and poke me—”

“And you still say I’m the asshole,” he cuts in drily. “You know I’m actually a really nice person? Or, at least, I try to be? I’m not actually trying to be a dick. Damn, you really do drive me up the wall.” He runs a hand through his hair; she tracks the motion out of the corner of her eye.

Any hope that the tension between them might have vanished after battling it out has long gone. If anything, it’s worse: it’s gone from wanting to fight him to wanting to—

“Typical,” she whispers, turning to him. “Playing the blame game.”

“You know what? Screw being nice,” he says, turning to face her, too, so that she can see the teasing little smile playing across his lips. “I am blaming you.”

She bites back a laugh. “For your bad behaviour?”

“For my bad behaviour,” he confirms.

“That’s petty.”

“I’m a petty guy.”

She turns her snort into a scoff. “I don’t know why I expected more from you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t expect less,” he shrugs.

His gaze feels hot and heavy on her and it feels kind of amazing. Annabeth doesn’t really get crushes on anyone. She notices attractive people but she’s never ever ever wanted to act on it, and she’s certainly never felt like this before, want sizzling in the walls of her stomach like some kind of freak acidic reaction. She knows she’s no Drew Tanaka, but she also knows she’s not unattractive, and gods does it feel good to have Percy’s eyes on her and know, from just a single glance, that he’s attracted to her, at least to some degree.

They’re, like. Absurdly close, now. As close as two people can get, lying down, without touching each other. Her entire body feels tingly, like it’s about a second away from bursting into flame. Annabeth licks her lips absentmindedly and then feels her entire torso go warm when she notices Percy watching her do it.

The moment feels — precarious. Precious. Drop it and it’ll break. Save it and — who knows?

“So,” she says quietly, “what are you going to do now?”

“About the gaping holes in my character?” he teases, though his eyes are glinting. Oh, he knows, the absolute ass. “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d help me out with that one.”

“What makes you think I would?” she asks, just so she can watch him falter.

He does, for a moment, but she raises a brow, and then he recognizes the back-and-forth for what it is and smirks.

“I think you want to help me,” he says smugly, and gods, she’s completely lost the metaphor at this point, but if he’s saying he wants her to make the first move because he’s too much of a coward to do it himself then goddamn it, she will.

She feels dizzy, drunk on something really fucking stupid. She feels like she’s on the precipice of something either completely insane or completely incredible, or maybe a bit of both. She takes a deep breath and prays to all that is holy in the hopes that her mother won’t sense that her daughter is getting up close and personal with a son of Poseidon and disown her on the spot. Yikes. She might regret this later.

But now — oh. She wants. She wants this, she wants him, and it doesn’t need to mean anything, and it doesn’t need to happen again. She needs to get this — him — out of system, or maybe she’s just telling herself that because gods she feels so good right now. The emptiness after the high of their battle, the thing she’d supposedly forgotten — she’s here, now, placing a hand on his cheek and watching as he inhales sharply, and she thinks she might have found it.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, and then she kisses him.

・・・・・

Annabeth wakes up and feels nothing but pure, deep, devastating shame.

She wonders if she might get away with acting like she’s sick, but decides against it in the end. Faking an illness would mean visit from the Apollo Cabin, who would figure her out immediately, or Piper, who would also figure her out immediately. A quick glance around the room shows her that Bea’s already up and probably eating breakfast, leaving Annabeth free to bury her face in her pillow and scream.

What had she been thinking? What — had — she — been — thinking. Had she. Been. Thinking at all.

She’s heard people saying things like “Don’t think with your dick,” and stuff like that but never ever in a million years would she have ever thought it came from a very real place. Because there’s literally no other explanation for it. Last night, Annabeth’s brain had vanished, and apparently before signing off it had decided that her vagina was to take over in its stead.

She wishes, with a kind of hopelessness, that she was saved from having an excellent memory. After all, wouldn’t everything be easier if she forgot everything that happened? It would be so much easier if she could lie to herself, pretend last night’s events were bluescreened, glitched beyond belief, corrupted files she is currently unable to access in the database of her brain. It would be so easy to believe that last night’s events were blacked out sometime between Percy’s lips finding hers with startling urgency and the sunlight filtering through her blinds at the moment. But the fact of the matter is that Annabeth has an excellent memory, and so there is nothing, nothing about last night that she doesn’t remember.

Clinging to her nostrils is his scent, something vaguely tropical and beachy that might just be half cologne and half him. Ingrained in her brain matter is the exact curvature of Percy’s bottom lip that she’d gone over time and time again with her tongue. His skin cells under her nails. The sound of their breaths mingling and the smack of their lips as they kissed and broke apart and kissed and went away, only to come back to each other again, drawn together like magnets, like a force akin to something gravitational. Annabeth’s fingers — she gazes in horror at them now — had raked through his hair, pulled his head back as she swung into his lap. She had been touching him all over and she had liked it. She had liked it a lot.

They hadn’t had sex. Thank all the gods, and all the minor gods, too, that they hadn’t had sex — but, if she’s being honest with herself, she knows it’s only because they were out in the open, in the woods, with actual fire breathing ants and poisonous scorpions and god knows what else they were lucky enough to have not been bitten by last night. There was also all the soreness from the fighting that made moving in general harder than it had to be. And also the lack of condoms that Percy had cursed very loudly about, which had actually made her giggle.

Still, though. They’d. Made out. Like, there was a lot of making out and wandering hands and she’s pretty sure hers had slipped under his shirt at one point. His skin had been cool to the touch, rough from all his battlescars, and it had been nice. Really nice.

And then — she squeals into her pillow again — and then his hands had, like, smoothed over her ass, which feels so, so weird to think about, but really there’s no other way to describe how his hands moved over her body. But anyway, that had been really really nice, in the moment, according to her vagina-controlled-brain, and then — oh gods — he’d stiffened and moved his hands back up to her waist again as though trying to be gentlemanly, of all things, and then — shitting fuck — and then she’d stopped kissing him, told him severely to stop being an idiot, and then put his hands back on her ass before picking up right where she’d left off.

She’s a freak. She’s gone batshit fucking insane. What is wrong with her? No, really. What’s wrong with her. There’s got to be something wrong with her, right? Right. Right. Rightrightrightright.

Maybe she is sick, she thinks, dazed. Maybe she’s sick in the head.

She startles at the knock at the door, and she lifts her head from the pillow as Bea pokes her head in.

“Hey, I know you’re probably super tired from yesterday, but Chiron said he needs your help managing the Hermes kids for archery today, so…” Her eyes widen at Annabeth’s face. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

Annabeth feels terrible. She feels like she’s just allowed the son of her mother’s sworn enemy to do unspeakable things to her. She gives Bea a thumbs-up, which she’s never done in her whole life.

“I’m peachy,” she says with false brightness, which is a word she’s never used in her whole life. “Tell Chiron I’ll be there. I’ll just shower and go get some breakfast first.”

Bea, on high alert since the peachy, shoots Annabeth a troubled look, but thankfully she just nods and closes the door behind her.

Annabeth stuffs the corner of her blanket in her mouth and screams again.

After the world’s fastest shower — during which she also brushes her teeth because she is nothing if not efficient – she makes her way to the mess hall, hobbling like an old man. After all the action from the night before — meaning the fighting, please — her body feels raw, and even the hot water from the shower hadn’t done much to help. Will’s got this ointment, the kind that’s nice and smells like eucalyptus and burns in the best way, and she reminds herself that she’s got to get some and then slather her whole body in it.

She collapses at the first table she reaches with an almighty groan that draws the attention of several other campers, who shoot her sympathetic looks.

Piper and Jason, who had been seated at a different table, exchange glances before joining her. Piper slides in next to her, cooing as Annabeth winces, and Jason summons a glass of orange juice and slides it her way with a sympathetic smile.

“If it helps, I was in the shower for forty minutes today,” he says kindly. “I couldn’t even move.”

“Well, you did fight off an army,” Piper says.

“Annabeth fought off a Percy,” Jason grins. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“She totally did!” Piper crows, nudging Annabeth in the side. “I need all the deets, babe. You two must’ve been going at it pretty hard if you’re still feeling sore.” And because Annabeth’s lizard brain lacks any sense of subtlety whatsoever, she promptly chokes on her glass of juice.

Piper thumps her back as Annabeth coughs violently into her fist. Jason admonishes, “You don’t need to put it like that!” and Piper whines, “C’mon she knows I was just teasing,” as Annabeth, still spluttering, grabs a plate, loads it with pancakes, and then shoves a huge piece into her mouth in an attempt to avoid speaking entirely.

“Um,” says Piper, as Annabeth, still chewing, pours an unholy amount of syrup onto the next pancake and then shoves another large slice into her mouth. “Are you…okay?”

“Hungee,” Annabeth manages, which, at the very least, is not a total lie. She’s freaking starving.

“Same here,” comes another voice from behind her, one that triggers another awful coughing spell, and by the time that’s done Percy’s already slid into the seat directly opposite her, summoning a plate of waffles with a ton of blueberries, looking fresher than ever, practically as though he’s visited a spa overnight.

She gapes at him, since she knows for a fact that he was struggling to walk back to his room last night. In fact, every single demigod in the area is staring at him, half in envy, while the other half seem to be watching expressly for her reaction. Annabeth swallows thickly, takes a large gulp of her juice, and then, losing her nerve, digs back into her breakfast with an unattractive grunt.

"How do you look this happy?” Piper demands after a minute, apparently unable to help herself. “Why can’t you look shitty and tired like the rest of us?”

“I did, I swear,” he says earnestly through a mouthful of food. “But then I took a shower and it woke me right up.”

They all make disgusted noises.

“Sons of fucking Poseidon,” Piper groans. “That’s just unfair.”

“Nepthoon,” Percy corrects at once, trying in vain to chew without spraying her.

Jason summons a baked potato just to stab it with vehemence. “I’m a son of Jupiter. Does the air heal me? Noooooo.”

Even Annabeth works up the balls to say, “You really are an asshole.”

Percy grins at the other two and saves a smug little smile for her, which does wonders to melt away her guilt-slash-shame and replace it with a combo of shock plus mild annoyance plus relief that he doesn’t seem to be willing to spill the beans and ruin her life. At least, not just yet.

“I never denied it,” he says simply, going back to his food. “Also, I was thinking—”

“Don’t strain yourself,” she says at once. It’s easy to be mean, to fall into old patterns. Anything, gods, anything to keep her from thinking about his hands grasping her bare waist, his lips sliding over hers —

She gulps her juice, then summons another one and chugs that too. Piper looks at her in undisguised concern.

Percy stops piling blueberries atop his waffle. “Would you look at that? A joke at my expense. That’s a new one.”

“Deflecting with poor humour, Percy?” Annabeth says, shaking her head at him. “Really?”

“Avoiding accepting your defeat by throwing petty insults my way?” Percy says, his lips curving. “Really, Annabeth?”

“I did not lose.” She points her fork at him. “I could disarm you with this if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Don’t test me.”

She scowls at him, hoping she’s doing enough to convey Why are you being this normal? without moving her face at all, and Percy responds, with a twitch of his nose, Should we not be?

Out of nowhere, they both smirk at each other. Not very friendly but not…not. Percy laughs a little and goes right back to his waffles, and Annabeth relaxes, grateful that he doesn’t seem to have any expectations of her, before summoning another pancake. 

She’s demolished nearly half of it by the time it occurs to her that it’s been far too silent since their little exchange. She turns to her right to see Piper staring at her with an open mouth and wide eyes. Across the table, Jason looks no less flabbergasted.

Piper recovers first. “What the hell happened between you guys?”

“You — I thought you guys hate each other!” Jason stammers.

“I never hated Annabeth. I am not capable of hate,” says Percy sagely, and Annabeth risks her bodyache to stamp on his foot beneath the table. “Ow — you’re evil, you know that? Evil.”

“Nothing happened,” Annabeth says, turning to Piper. “We just…fought.”

“Got it out of our systems,” Percy confirms. “And now we’re good. All good. In fact, we’re going to spar after this.”

“In your dreams,” she snaps. “I’m not moving until I get Will’s magic ointment.”

“Afraid of losing again?”

“Afraid I’ll get the dryads to pee in your hair every night?” She doesn’t even bat an eyelid. “I know several of them pretty damn well. They’d do it.”

“This is surreal,” Piper says faintly. “I feel like I should be recording this.”

“I’m being normal,” Percy says innocently. Annabeth has to tear his eyes away from where syrup is dripping down his chin, just in time for Piper to point right at her and say suspiciously, “Well, she’s not. I didn’t know Annabeth was capable of speaking in whole sentences around you, actually.”

“I’m right here,” Annabeth says grumpily. “And I still don’t like him, I just feel better about him now that I know for sure I’m better than him.”

Percy sits up straight. “You cheated—”

“Bitch, where?”

“You’ve had your chance, I want to spar with Annabeth, too!” Jason says stoutly. He turns to her. “Do you know he told me not to? Since apparently I’d come and tell him about it and he wanted to — and I quote — make a fair assessment of your skills based on his judgement alone?”

Piper shoots Percy a withering look. “Dude, you’re, like, so dramatic.”

“It’s not dramatic,” Percy protests. “I just…” He shrugs. “Annabeth, back me up here.”

“He didn’t wanna spar me because he wanted the first time we fought to feel like a real fight,” Annabeth explains, chewing thoughtfully on her pancake. “And he didn’t want to know what I could do because that would make it unfair. I get it. It’s the same for me.”

“Exactly.” The tips of his ears turn faintly red. “I mean, in hindsight, it does seem a little ridiculous.”

She shrugs. “I stand by it.”

Piper shakes her head. “You guys are weird.”

“We’re driven,” Percy says emphatically.

“Passionate,” Annabeth agrees.

“Nobody gets us.”

Jason eyes them with apprehension. “I sense that we’ve made a mistake letting them become friends.”

“Friends is crazy. Who said anything about friends?” she says at once. “He’s still annoying.”

“You’re still way too obstinate for my tastes,” Percy throws back, pushing his now-empty plate away and wiping his hands on the napkin that appears immediately after. “Hey, where are you going after this?”

“I’m gonna talk to Chiron,” Annabeth says.

“I’ll join you.”

“Feel free,” she says, pushing her own plate away and standing. “Oof. Everything hurts.”

“This is suspicious as hell,” Jason says. “No way are you guys going to hang out like you didn’t hate each other’s guts twenty-four hours ago.” He purses his lips. “Did something happen that we should know about?”

Piper raises an inquisitive brow.

“Yeah,” she says, shooting Annabeth a mock-knowing stare that still makes her gut flip-flop in place. “Guys? You wanna spill the beans?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth sees Percy shoot her a quick glance that she doesn’t dare return. She crosses her arms instead. “What? You want to know all the gory details from the fight in the forest? Or the ones from the one bedroom after that?” She makes her voice just sarcastic enough to be believable, and sure enough, Piper just shakes her head and chuckles. Annabeth feels a pang of guilt that’s quickly overshadowed by relief.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be the bigger person and let you off the hook for now. Go help Chiron,” Piper says, waving them away, and Annabeth just has enough time to shoot Percy a reassuring look before she hears her add, “but no detours, you two.”

Screw being the bigger person, Annabeth thinks. She grabs a breadstick from Leo, who’s sliding into Percy’s vacant spot, and lobs it right at her best friend’s face.

・・・・・

“So,” Percy says conversationally as they make their way slowly across the green.

“Yeah?” she asks, eyes fixed on the Ares building — is that part of the roof that looks broken? She should probably talk to Argus about fixing it—

“Should we talk about what happened last night?” he asks, and Annabeth nearly trips on air.

“Shut up,” she hisses.

He raises both his hands and makes a whole show of miming zipping his lips, throwing away an invisible key. She stares at him. He stares back.

She exhales noisily. “Are you actually doing this? Seriously? How old are you?”

He shrugs. He holds up all ten fingers, then makes a fist with both hands before flashing all fingers again. Then he holds up one.”

“Twenty-one,” she surmises. He claps. She groans. “Fine, you can talk about…last night. If you’re quiet, goddamn!”

He makes a whole show of finding the key on the ground and unzipping his lips. He’s such a fucking dork, she thinks, and tries not to feel fond about it.

“I mean, I get that you don’t wanna tell anyone,” he says, “judging by the display from earlier.”

She raises her brows at him. “What? You want people to know?”

“It’s not like I’m gonna scream it from a loudspeaker,” he retorts, but I don’t want to keep a secret like I’m ashamed of what happened. I’d probably just tell Jason and Hazel.”

“Yeah, well.” She scuffs her shoe against the grass. “Don’t.”

“I got that,” he says, amused. “Can I ask why?” His eyes rove over her and she flushes. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, though.”

“I—” Annabeth debates this, but then she makes the mistake of looking at him and finds him giving her these insane puppy eyes, like it would break his heart if she didn’t tell him this minor piece of information. It trips her up bad, completely obliterates her train of thought. This must’ve been The Look Reyna was talking about.

“Ugh,” she relents, ignoring how he brightens at her obvious admission of defeat. “It’s — look, I don’t want to be in a relationship, not now, I don’t know if I ever will, but when your best friend is the daughter of the goddess of love…”

“Ah,” Percy says, nodding.

“I love Piper with all my heart,” she says. “And I know she just wants to see me happy. But — she gets…a little fixated? Sometimes. On people’s love lives. She loves love and she loves people in love and that’s great! But if she ever thought I was interested in someone romantically — which I’m not, let’s be clear—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—she wouldn’t drop it. And I just — I don’t know what I want. When it comes to that kinda stuff. Telling Piper would get her hopes up for me, and I don’t want her to start…I don’t know. Doing the whole shipping thing.” She cracks a smile when Percy makes a face. “I figured I’d only tell her if I was really serious about someone, y’know? Like — if I was going to get married to them. Which — again — I’m not sure if I want for me at all. And last night…it was fun. But I—I don’t know you. And I’m not sure I like you. And I don’t want to make things messy.”

“But this doesn’t have to be serious,” he sighs. “Okay, look.”

He faces her fully. “You’re kind of a nightmare sometimes. And I don’t know you either, and I don’t like you right now, but I think I could, at least as a friend. And…I really did enjoy last night. And I think that if we’re going to be friends, kind of — especially since it looks like our best friends might get together at some point — we should address it.”

“You enjoyed last night?” she blurts out at once, despite herself. “Which part do you mean?”

He stares at her, his face going pink. It’s — gods forbid — kind of cute.

“Well, both parts,” he says after a moment. “The fight. And. Um. The afterparty.”

She gapes at him before bursting into laughter. “The afterparty? Percy.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say!” He buries his face in his hands, muffling the sound of his own laughter. “I panicked!”

“It’s okay,” she grins. “And, um. For the record. I liked it too.”

“Which part?” he echoes, shit-eating grin bright enough to rival the sun.

She punches him lightly. “Both, of course.”

“So…what’s stopping us from doing it again?” he asks seriously.

Her brain stutters to a halt. “Which part?” she asks, just to buy time.

He rolls his eyes. “Both, Annabeth. I mean, I’d like to spar you more — and, if you’re willing, we could continue the other stuff, too.” He shrugs. “Since it matters to you so much, we don’t need to tell anyone. I’m leaving in a few months, so there isn’t any danger of things getting serious. And we’re both consenting adults. If we both enjoyed it, what’s the harm?”

What’s the harm, she thinks with a flash of disappointment. The harm is that her mom could find out and decide that Annabeth is unworthy and choose to withhold the Blessing. And that’s a risk she can’t take. Her indecision is her answer.

Percy’s already nodding in understanding when she looks up, her mouth already forming an apology. “It’s cool. I figured you’d say no, but I really did have fun and I figured I had nothing to lose if I asked you.”

“I appreciate it,” she says. “And — uh. I’m sorry. It’s just — this is the last year before I graduate, and my mom — I mean, the Blessing. I just — I can’t afford to fuck up now.”

“And fucking up equals…fucking a son of Neptune,” he says slowly, as though putting the pieces together in real time. “Ah.”

For some reason the disappointment that he lets himself show for a split second is worse than any of the insults he’d thrown at her thus far. “I really am sorry.”

“And I really do get it,” he assures her. He sighs. “Know anyone else who’d be willing to sleep with me?”

“Only half the Camp,” she says, somewhat bitterly. “Any gender, take your pick.”

“What about the other half of Camp?”

“The other half is underage.”

He pushes her shoulder, laughing. “I was kidding, you jackass. I may have fooled you with how suave I was about this whole thing, but I don’t do this very often. Or, um, at all, actually.”

“Uh huh,” she says lightly, acting like she doesn’t believe him even though she kind of does, and the realization that she’d been right about his attraction to her sends a thrill up her spine. “Sure. Totally.”

“You’re the worst.” He’s smiling, though. “So. We’ll stick to sparring, then. Whenever you get better.”

“Tomorrow,” she says decisively.

“Are you sure?” The look of worry he plasters across his face is totally ruined by the wicked little gleam in his eyes. “I mean, I wore you out pretty good last night — ow! Ow! Stop!”

Annabeth stops punching him, but she doesn’t drop her fist. She’s grinning, though. “You’re absolutely shameless.”

“I couldn’t help it,” he laughs.

She notices he’s still backing away. “Where are you going?”

“Well, since you don’t want anything to do with me—” He ignores her surprised bark of laughter —  “I’m going to find someone else to spar. Later, Annabeth.”

“I thought you were gonna come with me to Chiron,” she calls.

“I just wanted to get you alone,” he responds, sticking his tongue out at her before turning away with a “Bye!”

She watches him jog away in the direction of the lake and wonders why she feels kind of disappointed, even though she knows she’s made the right decision for herself in the long run. Maybe it’s because the kissing had been good and the sex will probably be better. She shakes the thought away. What’s done is done. And she’s kind of proud of herself for resisting temptation, staying on track. That’s real strength. That’s discipline. That’s hardcore.

And at least this way, she thinks wistfully, staring at the slowly shifting clouds as she makes her way to the archery range, this way nobody will get hurt. Nobody will know and nobody will care and it doesn’t matter and she should really stop thinking about it, since it’s not going to happen again.

・・・・・

…It happens again.

At the very least — the very, very, bottom-of-the-barrel least — Annabeth is willing to own up to her mistakes. And the first time had been completely her fault.

After clearing things up with Percy, she’d gone to talk to Chiron just as she’d planned. And then she’d decided to rest, only Bea and a couple of her other siblings were playing a pretty loud game of Jenga in her room (the blocks were arranged to look like the Parthenon, of course). She wasn’t in the mood to visit the library, and she certainly wasn’t in any shape to tackle anything in the arena, so out of her go-to spots in camp that was already two down.

She’d headed to the lake, where Percy was nowhere to be found, to her disappointment, but she’d sat down at the edge of the pier anyway and taken off her shoes. She’d only barely dipped her toes in when a great wave appeared in front of her and she was dragged underwater. She’d nearly had a heart attack, one that turned into a fit of rage when Percy finally let her go and surfaced next to her, laughing uproariously, his hair plastered to his forehead. She’d tried to chase him to shut him up since his grin was doing unfair things to her chest, and somehow while she’d intended to clap her hand over his mouth, her lips decided — quite valiantly — to take up the job instead.

“Fucking shit,” she’d said as they separated.

Percy shrieked and pointed at her. “I didn’t do anything! It was all you! I swear it wasn’t me!” Which was all true, of course, but it was not at all what she needed to hear right now. Which meant she had to shut him up again, which meant she had to kiss him again, and this time Percy responded so enthusiastically that he dragged them both underwater, which freaked her out at first, but then he created a bubble around them and then went right back to it again.

“You’re giving me some real mixed signals here,” he commented as they pulled themselves back onto the dock. Annabeth, who had already decided to block out the entirety of the proceedings from her memory, made to jump back into the water to avoid discussing it — and hopefully drown quickly — but Percy grabbed her arm with the air of a tired cat owner and fixed her with an unimpressed stare.

He magicked them dry. “So — this is happening.”

“No,” she said, mortified, immediately. “No. This was the last time.” She pointed at him. “I hope you enjoyed that, because it’s not happening again.”

The next time it happened — that very night, in fact — Annabeth had decided to remove herself from the source of temptation by skipping dinner and locking herself up in Bunker Six, where she proceeded to (badly) sketch a temple for Athena as penance and then stare at the ceiling for hours, berating herself for her own lack of control.

It was close to midnight by the time she decided it was time to risk going back to her own bed — the one in Bunker Six was pretty old and not at all comfortable — because surely, surely Percy had gone to sleep by now.

Only, as she made her way back to the ring of cabins she had to cross the pegasi stables, and who should she happen across? That’s right, you guessed it, Percy Jackson himself, standing beside by Blackjack with a handful of sugar cubes, wearing a well-worn Camp Half-Blood t-shirt (that did very interesting things to her chest) and an expression of complete disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.

He held up a hand as though to ward off a great evil. “Stay away from me.”

“You stay away from me,” she’d snapped. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” he’d said back, daring her to leave.

Neither of them moved.

And then she must’ve blacked out, because when she came to they were making out against the stable walls — all the pegasi began to whinny and neigh like they were hooting, and they really must’ve been saying some truly scandalous things, because Percy’s face turned the color of a firetruck and he practically shoved her outside. After which Annabeth, true to her word, went to bed.

With Percy.

In the rickety old bed in Bunker Six.

Gods help her.

Like everything else between them, it had been a goddamn battle. They were both unwilling to yield until Percy in a fit of total frustration ended up using his entire bodyweight to pin her down before swallowing her whined protest in a kiss so vicious it sent her head spinning. That had been when Annabeth, Miss Control Freak, figured out that she actually didn’t mind giving up some of that control in certain situations — in fact, she liked it — and she ended up making the most embarrassing noise just as Percy was fumbling with the bottom of her shirt, and he broke away, misunderstanding her.

It was exactly what she needed at that moment. A moment to breathe, to get her head back on straight.

“I — we can’t,” she said, panting. She gulped as Percy paused above her, his eyes turning stricken. Annabeth searched his face, trying to fight the urge to say something that wasn’t a variation of Can we get back to that, and then Percy was moving to get off of her, and — well. She couldn’t have that, now could she.

She surged upward and kissed him again — she caught him as he was turning so it ended up being a little weird, but then she broke her hands free from his grip, used them to angle his face just right, and kissed him again. His lips were unnaturally soft, and his hands flew to her hips, and he made an equally feeble little noise, and honestly, it was appalling how good it felt. She moved her hands down his back and up his arms, finding that even though he looked lean he was definitely pretty muscular, and she gripped on his shoulders really tight, just to experiment, and Percy gasped into her satisfyingly.

The itch in her grew to a fire grew to a roaring inferno, and Annabeth’s skin felt ablaze as his hands slipped past the waistband of her faded jeans, and she knew, she knew she had to stop, but how could she stop the fire now that it had found its kindling? And then she was gasping into his mouth as his fingers curled inside her and that was the last coherent thought she had for a while.

If their clothes came off much quicker than they should’ve after that, nobody was complaining. Percy was kissing her almost brutally, their bodies moving together, and it was spectacular, and then Annabeth rolled them around so that she was on top, an action that had Percy’s eyes turning dark from pleasure. Which — cool. Cool cool coolity cool. Noted.

They’d found the condoms (“Children of Athena are nothing if not resourceful,” she’d said shamefully as Percy unearthed them from a drawer) and then — yep.

Yep.

An hour or so later, as she’d pulled her pants back on and tried to look as though she was worn out from hours of staring at books and not from getting thoroughly fucked, she’d turned to Percy and stuck out her hand with an air of finality.

“It’s done,” she said. “And so now, I can finally, truthfully say – this was it.”

Percy had snorted but shaken her hand nonetheless. “So…I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

“Fuck off,” she’d said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the arena, where I’ll wipe the floor with your ass and laugh at your incompetence.”

They’d sparred the next day — an experience that turned out to be just as electrifying as their Capture the Flag fight — and then they’d had sex again that night. Percy gasped out, “I thought you said we shouldn’t,” like a total idiot even as he was in the middle of unclasping her bra, and Annabeth had shot him a look that could make a flower wither. She’d said, “Don’t be an idiot,” because of course they shouldn’t, but who gave a fuck when it felt like this?

And then two nights after that it happened again. And then what followed over the next week had been three severe lapses in judgement on her part, and now — now, lying on the shitty mattress with a very naked Percy next to her, she stares at the dust accumulating at the corner of the ceiling and wonders how the heck she got into this mess.

“Can you please admit,” Percy breathes out, “that this is a thing? That this is happening?”

She pats him on the shoulder, smiling at the amused yet unsurprised huff that the action elicits from him, before sitting up with a small groan and glancing around for her bra.

“We threw it somewhere over there,” Percy says carelessly, pointing somewhere outside the room, which isn’t helpful at all, so she gives up and lies back down with a sigh.

Percy usually runs cool, but right now he’s warm, which is nice. He also has a very distinct scent, which shouldn’t really turn a person on, but hey! Apparently it works for her. Actually, apparently just about everything about Percy works for her, which had become evident the previous day, when she’d found herself feeling all hot and bothered just from watching him (hilariously unsuccessfully) attempt to handle chopsticks at the dinner table with—with those hands of his. Also, another jarring discovery about her sexual preferences — sparring with him seems to be serving as a weird kind of foreplay for the both of them, if the heated glances they keep exchanging mean that she thinks they do. So yes. There is something deeply, deeply wrong with her.

“I’m just surprised we haven’t been caught,” she remarks into the silence, feeling Percy turn onto his side and shift closer. “I mean, children of Athena are supposed to be all about learning, right, so it’s just weird we haven’t been caught yet.”

He smiles, rubbing a hand over her shoulder, an oddly comforting and intimate gesture until she realizes he’s brushing the dust away. “Are you complaining?”

“Gods, no.” She turns to him, stares, for a long minute, at his bare chest, and then throws the ratty bedsheet over the both of them since — well, she was just licking him a while ago and she’s afraid she might want to do it again. “Just surprised — and a little suspicious.”

He snickers. “Don’t question it too much. We don’t wanna jinx it.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “Yeah.”

“Would you chill.”  Percy’s hand briefly twitches like he’s going to reach out and touch her face, but he decides against it in the last second and she’s glad for it, because Annabeth’s emotionally mature enough to know her own heart at this point, and she has a feeling that the only reason she hasn’t completely fallen over herself in love with him is because they’re going about the sex the way they go about everything else in their relationship, which is to say — it’s a fucking battle. They’re both constantly trying to be the one in control and even though the result ends up being extremely satisfying either way, she knows that if Percy stops being a total pain in her ass and starts being kind and sweet and romantic — which she somehow just knows is how he’ll be as a boyfriend — she will fall in love with him. She just will. And that can’t happen. Not if she wants to be a Hero.

The thought of falling in love with Percy is terrifying.

Because it’s Percy, for fuck’s sake. He laughs at dad jokes and cracks even worse ones. He’s woefully inept at anything that’s not oceanic or swordfighting-related. Annabeth’s seen him tie his own shoelaces together whilst talking to someone. She’s seen him spread butter on his toast and then bite into the knife. And despite her mother’s hatred of his father, she’s come to like Percy. She’s even come to consider him…almost a friend.

And he pushes her. Challenges her to go beyond her limits and it’s wonderful for her in terms of her growth. When they spar — which, yes, turns them on something awful — he doesn’t hold back. He never has, not since the day she called him an incompetent praetor. And it’s great. Annabeth hadn’t realized it, but her status in Camp, her reputation for being the smartest — beyond her closest siblings and Piper, it means that a lot of people didn’t question her, something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

But also — he hasn’t got long left here at Camp Half-Blood. He’s going to go back to New Rome in a couple of months and then he’s going to debut as a Hero and he’s got the whole way paved for him. He does because he’s Blessed and that’s just how it is. Annabeth’s going to have to work so much harder, she knows, just to even be considered capable. Which fucking sucks.

She has to keep her head on straight. The sex is great and Percy’s fun and that’s fine, but she can’t lose sight of the bigger picture here, which is hitting the top spot in the ranks. Being the best. Finally proving herself and building something permanent. She can’t let anything, or anyone, or the stupid fucking itch under her skin, get in the way of that.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, and she jolts.

“Things,” she says eventually, when the pause is borderline awkward and he’s still looking at her all puppylike and soft, like he’s expecting an answer. Reyna had been right about that look of his. Goddamn it.

“A lot of things,” she elaborates unhelpfully.

“Just life things?”

She tilts her head to look at him, only to find that he’s already looking at her. Probably never stopped. Up close in the light from the brazier hung on the wall he looks like he’s made of bronze. Beautiful and warm. Unable to stop herself, her fingers graze his cheekbone, forgetting completely that he’d had enough self-restraint to stop himself from doing the exact same thing to her a few minutes ago.

When he doesn’t react, she remembers.

“Sorry,” she whispers, furious at herself, but Percy, an almost panicked expression crossing his face, grabs her hand and keeps it there.

His eyes are confused, a little scared, and a lot hopeful. She has no idea what emotion she’s projecting, but it’s probably something similar.

And this — this is a thing that’s happening.

・・・・・

It’s a learning process, is what Annabeth tells herself. She’s definitely making bad choices, but at the very least, she’s learning something, and that can never be a bad thing, right?

She’s learned that sex can be fun, although if she really starts thinking about all the borderline nasty things they’ve done to each other it kinda grosses her out. Annabeth hasn’t had sex before and hadn’t really wanted to — she’d mostly just nodded along when Drew and some of the other Aphrodite girls talked about sex and went on these long-winded speeches about how experiencing an orgasm was life-altering and all that jazz. She hadn’t really thought about it before and the older she got the more she saw sex as kind of a chore, just another thing to cross off the list. She hadn’t thought it would be pleasurable for her, and she certainly hadn’t imagined it would be fun.

Part of that is Percy. She supposes that her first ever partner could’ve been much worse. Percy’s also new to this, which makes the messy parts less embarrassing to deal with, and it really does help that he’s unselfish in bed and wants to make this whole thing feel good for her, too. And it’s all not perfect, of course — they’ve bumped heads far too often, and pulled at each others’ hair enough to hurt, and clashed teeth, and bitten too sharply in places far too embarrassing to name, but they soon settle into a rhythm that suits them pretty fucking perfectly. It’s trial and error, an exercise, an experiment where the only conclusion is feeling as good as possible, and soon they’ve got it down to the most detailed of sciences. Percy knows she’ll never ask him to lift her, but he’ll do it anyway. Annabeth knows Percy will say he’s down to try any position, but he likes it most when they’re face-to-face. She likes her hair pulled. He likes when she takes her face in his hands when they kiss. She likes when he noses at her neck. He always laughs when she grabs his ass, and then he palms hers right back, like it’s a competition.

They try all kinds of things. She likes being tied up — just her hands, because she’s not willing to give up that much control. Funnily enough, Percy’s more cautious than she is, but once the trust is there, he’s willing to try just about anything. Annabeth likes praise — she really should’ve seen that one coming, but it had somehow still been a shock when one of Percy’s compliments turned her so far on she had to jump him again.

Annabeth’s the quieter of the two, so Percy learns to understand her body language like he’s been speaking it all his life, and Annabeth catalogues all his little noises, every bitten-off gasp and moan, until she can read him like her favorite book.

It’s a lot — a lot — of learning.

And she’s learning a lot about herself too, actually! She’s making a lot of really fascinating discoveries and she’s sure that if she had a therapist, they’d be proud of her. Because Annabeth’s figured out that despite being around plenty of people who aren’t exactly shy in their touches, she actually quite likes to be held. The first time Percy had casually swung an arm around her after…a session (a session? Really? Is that the best she can come up with, fuck), Annabeth had nearly thrown his arm off and bolted. But then she took a breath, then another, and his weight turned comforting instead of oppressive. Percy was half-asleep and so he…tucked her close to him and shoved his nose into her shoulder and inhaled deeply, and then he let out a contented sigh that she knows he’d never have let slip had he not been so tired. And it was…flattering.

She hadn’t really thought about it before, but it had been a while since she’d been held. Protected. Not since Thalia and Luke, at least. She has vague recollections of being cuddled by her father, her mother’s voice soothing her to sleep, but she isn’t even sure if those are real memories or something her brain’s concocted to make her feel better during those lonely, dark moments of her life, to remind herself that no, there were people who loved her and cared about her. Annabeth had arrived at Camp as a seven-year-old who was far too hurt by the world to ever desire help from it, and she hadn’t wanted to be coddled by her friends and peers, even on day dot. She’d seen what happened to people who succumbed to their wants. She hadn’t wanted to appear weak.

Now things are different, of course. She’s a little older and a little less jaded, maybe. She’s found friends and built a little family. And they’re all open with their affection because they never got it from their parents. And Annabeth — she likes being the one people turn to, she’s said this. But that does mean that she’s doing the comforting most of the time. And she hasn’t…been interested in anyone who might’ve held her, held her the way Percy is holding her now.

She’s been the big spoon most of her life. Shielding her baby siblings from nightmares and Piper from bullies. She’s even been the big spoon in bed with Percy, who seemed perfectly happy to be held in her arms. He hadn’t asked her if she wanted to be held. Maybe he’d assumed she wasn’t comfortable with it, or maybe he had, like he so often has shown, been waiting for her to make the first move.

But here she is, enveloped in his arms, the soft, fresh scent of his skin settling over her like a blanket, and she…likes it.

Fascinating.

Oh, and another thing! Annabeth’s an intellectual, right? Or at least she’s always valued brains over brawn and beauty.

She knows she’s been blessed with pretty eyes and good body proportions and she knows she is nice to look at when she smiles. But in her efforts to be taken seriously, to not be seen as a ‘dumb blonde,’ Annabeth had begun dressing down, wearing baggy clothes (that are still super comfy, she stands by that!!!) and not really caring about what the hell her hair is doing. Which is cool. She doesn’t want to just be known as ‘the pretty one.’ But somewhere in her she’s kind of…forgotten that looking good, and being appreciated for it, brings a whole other kind of confidence.

Percy doesn’t really talk too much when they’re in bed, but Annabeth has begun to suspect that’s because he’s holding back. He’s mentioned more than once, always under her breath or into her skin, that she’s hot, and one day he’d let slip that she looked beautiful, which nearly made her stop in her tracks atop him. She’s so glad the exertion from riding him hid the fact that she was blushing beetroot from head to toe. Because — beautiful. She’s never been called that before.

On one of those days Percy had left a visible mark on her neck, Annabeth had been forced to borrow Bea’s turtlenecks (in July. She had to wear a turtleneck in July) to wear for a day. She had had to act like her period was making her feel colder than usual, but since Bea was smaller than her the clothes clung to her skin in a way her regular outfits never did. Annabeth felt weird about it, but the feeling slowly abated when more than one person stopped to compliment her, and Lacey, who wanted to be a stylist out of Camp, actually pulled her aside and offered her services. Annabeth was sure Lacey wanted to redo her whole wardrobe, but she insisted on finding complimentary colors and styles that would suit Annabeth’s more conservative dressing sense, which…actually sounded good. Annabeth had forgotten that there was a whole lot more to being a Hero than just saving lives, which was her primary motivation. To be a Hero is to be known, and that means interviews. Photoshoots. Paparazzi. Annabeth’s going to be in the public eye (under a mask, thank fuck) very soon, and she might need to figure out what she feels comfortable in sooner rather than later. So she accepts Lacey’s hug and tells her she’ll take it under consideration. Which is — it’s new for her, but not entirely unwelcome.

(It also helps that Percy’s eyes darken deliciously when he sees the turtleneck because they both know what it’s hiding. What? She’s also learning that a little bit of rebellion is fun, okay?)

And she’s learning tons about Percy, too. She learns that he’s one of the lucky ones who’s actually on good terms with his mortal parent. And good terms is an understatement. Percy’s…a bit of a mama’s boy, really, which Annabeth would’ve been jealous of had it not been so endearing. Because wow this boy really loves his mom: it’s so clear in the way he talks about her, the way he freely admits to missing her, the way he asks for blue-colored desserts every night after dinner, even though it turns his lips and tongue purple like he’s some kind of reptile. Everyone teases him about it — Annabeth doesn’t, because she’s stuck kissing those blue-stained lips every night and she’d never admit it to anyone — even with a gun to her head — but she likes the taste.

On the outside, Percy and Annabeth still act like they can barely stand each other. On the outside, Percy slips on a mask of sorts. He’s snarkier, cockier, holds the aura of a bad boy even though anyone who talks to him for a second can probably see right through it. Annabeth enjoys bickering with him in front of their friends and sparring with him in the evenings and correcting him loudly in Ancient Greek class, but she also equally enjoys drawing all these hushed noises when it’s just the two of them and exceedingly little clothing between them. Annabeth’s cautious and Percy appears to wear his heart on his sleeve, so it comes as something of a shock when she notices his brief hesitations whenever they’re together. She supposes it makes sense. This thing between them has been temporary right from the start and Annabeth has given him no reason to peel back any layers (emotional ones, that is). It makes sense that he’s got walls up. Annabeth should take whatever she can get and be glad for it.

But— she likes slipping off his mask, making his eyes go wide and soft, or making him let out a snort from a particularly bad pun. She likes deciphering all the little colors in his eyes. She likes tracing his scars and wondering what the stories are behind them. She likes that he doesn’t show vulnerability very easily, because it feels like a prize won when he opens up to her, even in small ways. She likes…yeah, nope, not going there.

(Nothing can happen, is the thing. There’s the Athena of it all and there’s the gigantic asterisk that hangs over his head, screaming that he’s Roman, which means that he’s leaving. He’s leaving soon and that’s not something she can change.)

She’s learning that Percy’s kind. He’s quick to offer his opinion but he’s never mean about it. He understand he’s a bit of an anomaly at Camp Half-Blood, and so he accepts every question with grace. A large portion of them come from her own siblings, and they are dogged the same way Annabeth is, but Percy never shows irritation, even when someone asks him if he’s really good at surfing. Turns out he’s never tried. Go figure.

He's a wonderful sparring partner. Annabeth’s taken to training with him in the evenings and Jason in the mornings when there aren’t any lessons, and she’s got to admit it’s good practice. Percy’s as unpredictable as Jason is steady, and between the two of their Blessings Annabeth feels ready to take on just about any monster. Because there’s Blessings like Piper’s and Leo’s and there are Blessings like Jason and Percy’s. They feel like forces of nature. Sometimes she feels like it’s so unfair, so grossly unfair, because how can she ever catch up, and it feels like being kicked in the teeth.

No matter. If Athena Blesses her…then…yeah.

Yeah.

She wouldn’t be surprised if her mother’s forsaken her. Like — come on. Athena doesn’t forgive, and Annabeth’s literally in bed with Percy right now, her head over his chest so she can hear the faint thumps of his heartbeat. They aren’t dating, gods no, but still this is far more soft, far more intimate, than it has any right to be.

Annabeth’s got to be careful.

His arm reaches over her and settles lightly over her back. Annabeth feels her face go warm. She thinks she might’ve been an idiot for thinking the itch would abate after sleeping with him, because it’s always there these days, omnipresent, lingering under her skin like the tiniest electric current. It’s always there, always reaching for him, and she doesn’t know — she’s scared of what it means.

“What are you thinking?” he asks her quietly. And Annabeth wants to tell him. She wants to ask what they’re doing here, if they’re fucking up, if they should stop. She wants to ask him if he’s got the itch too, if he also can’t stay away, if he’s also frightened the same way she is.

Instead she swallows thickly and turns over in his arms to meet his eyes. Tonight there’s these pretty bronze flecks in them. Her throat feels like the Sahara desert, cacti scratching her airways.

“Can you talk to zebras?” she asks hoarsely. You know, like a coward.

・・・・・

Training at Camp has always been fun.

Part of her wonders what the outside world would think if they learned of the two bases in the country, existing right under their noses, where…well, let’s not mince words here. Where children are shaped for battle.

It’s a little fucked up that Annabeth was handed a dagger before she knew proper grammar. It’s a little fucked up that they’re all minors learning to target the body’s weak points. It’s really fucked up that Harley, one of their youngest, can build a gun from scratch, load it, shoot it, and disassemble it, all in a matter of minutes.

Everyone at Camp, no matter their age, or their size — no matter if they want to or not, even — everyone has to undergo at least basic training: how to wield their weapon of choice, how to hold their own against a much larger opponent, which is usually the case. There’s training in hand-to-hand combat and self-defense and archery and swordfighting and spear throwing. And that’s just the beginning. For them, it’s truly a matter of life or death, after all.

Basic training aside, though…the advanced classes are where things get interesting.

Everyone going for Hero is required to take them, though they’re available for anyone who is willing and interested. In Annabeth’s experience, most demigods opt out of it, sticking to the basic or intermediate levels, which makes sense. A lot of half-bloods come out of Camp with different goals, goals that don’t require them to use combat skills on the daily — like being a designer or a teacher or an artist or…whatever, really. These days, all are possible to pursue, either inside or out of Camp; the network of demigods and legacies in the mortal world has expanded to an almost incredible degree, to the point where they’ve got someone just about anywhere willing to lend a helping hand (and plus, the gods are always available to pull strings wherever necessary).

Annabeth thinks she would’ve signed up for the advanced training even If she’d chosen to pursue a degree in architecture, though. She just enjoys it too much.

The advanced classes are strenuous. Heroes-in-training are required to have a certain mastery in just about every weapon type available to them, and they’re supposed to be trained in Muay Thai and wrestling and boxing at the least. It’s rough tough work but she loves it. She learned to fight before she was ten. That’s, like, more than a decade of experience already, and it shows.

Sparring matches are held twice a week, on Wednesday and Sunday evenings. They’re usually a rowdy affair — you can’t expect a fighting event stay peaceful when there are Ares kids around — but have only garnered more of an audience since the Romans have showed up…which is understandable, given that there are threeBig Three kids to watch, now. And Annabeth can’t blame ‘em. The stuff they can do is…mind-boggling, to say the least.

Jason can fly. Like — it is stupid. He can bend air currents under him and guide them into lifting him up. He can mold air to his will, push and pull at them like it’s an actual physical object. He can make them thick like a wall, viscous like honey, sharp like a blade of Celestial Bronze. He can pin you, lift you, send you flying. He can spin you around twenty times and have you stumbling over your own feet, helpless and disarmed, all from twirling a single goddamn finger.

Hazel is the most green of the three; she’s new at Camp Jupiter and hasn’t been trained for long, but she more than makes up for her lack of experience with creativity. She’s so good at navigating that it’s ridiculous, and she can get the ground beneath you to trip you up, make you stick in place, make you sink, sink, sink until you’re neck deep in the earth. The catch is that you need to be on the ground — she can’t manipulate anything that isn’t earthy (rock or metal, basically), but the possibilities are so endless that it barely matters. Once she masters the manipulation of magical metals, like Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold and Stygian Iron and Selenic Silver…they’re all fucking done for. They’ll be disarmed in the blink of an eye.

Percy is…well. Percy. Unpredictable, fluid, and gorgeous.

They all spar. That’s the fun of these sessions; they usually have a couple matches going at once, and sometimes they even team up and fight in groups. But it’s hard not to feel left out when Leo’s breathing fire and Jason’s catching arrows midair and Percy’s creating a mini-hurricane from nowhere. It’s hard not to feel a pang of: I can’t keep up. It’s so hard not to be jealous. 

Well. She is jealous, but she's trying not to think too much about it. She's trying to remind herself that she's still got the Blessing to look forward to. Soon she'll be right up there with them.

Soon, she'll be impossible to count out.

Annabeth isn’t fighting tonight. She’s sitting on one of the further sections of the arena, behind the audience of jeer-ers and boo-ers and bet-ers. Which has picked up in full swing, by the way. There are betting pools for everything: who’s going to win the next sparring match, who’s going to win the next War Games, who’s going to ask out who, who’s going to be brave enough to cut some hair from Chiron’s tail. It’s getting ridiculous, and Annabeth has half a mind to put a stop to it, but as long as it’s all in good fun, she’s loathe to rain on their parade.

Today’s one of those team matches: Leo and Percy vs. Piper and Jason, and they’re keeping the crowd entertained. Everyone roars as Piper’s charmspeak manages to get a hold of Percy at long last; she gets him to stop in his tracks, flexing hard to keep a grip of his weapon, but as Jason moves forward to disarm him, Leo flies in out of nowhere and rains a wall of fire over their heads. Piper’s focus breaks as she and Jason raise their shields in defense, and Percy rolls free, nabbing Jason with a brutal kick to the side.

Annabeth takes notes.

As the night grows darker and the fighting winds down, Percy finds her sketching a haphazard diagram of the Empire State Building. He’s breathing heavily and dripping sweat, but his green eyes are glinting like he could go another ten rounds in there.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she responds. “You did good out there. I especially liked the part when you faceplanted.”

He raises his eyebrows at her like he’s fishing for a real compliment, but there are people around and they’ve got a reputation to uphold, so Annabeth just shrugs. He smirks and asks, “Can I sit?”

She scoots aside, and he sits down with an exaggerated Ahh.

“Not your day today?” he asks, after a minute or so of silence.

“Nah.” She stretches. “Not in the mood, I guess.”

“Too chicken?”

“Too sick of kicking your ass,” she fires back at once, even though this is objectively untrue. They’ve been kicking each other’s asses an equal amount. Annabeth’s the smarter fighter but she doesn’t really stand much of a chance when Percy gets his powers involved; the only upside to that is that he tires easily so if she manages to hold on to her weapon for long enough, she’ll have the fight in the bag. It’s been fun.

…She’s a little bitter, though. Sue her.

And by the look in his eyes, Percy can tell.

“C’mon,” he says, sitting up, stretching his arms in front of him. “Spar with me.”

“No,” she says. She nods a goodbye at Sherman, who’s leaving the arena with the rest of his cabinmates. A quick survey of the place tells Annabeth that they’ll soon be the only people there. Even Piper, Leo, and Jason are all laughing together and walking away, probably to grab something to eat.

Annabeth turns to Percy and narrows her eyes. “What do you want from me.”

He lets out a sharp bark of surprised laughter. “Nothing!”

She lowers her voice, looking around them furtively to make sure she isn’t overheard. “I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“Jesus, I never said you were.” Percy sounds amused. “You looked all sad and lonely here and I thought I’d give you some company. That’s it, I swear.”

She squints at him. He laughs again and raises his hands.

“I don’t want to spar, either,” she tells him.

“That’s fine,” he cajoles, “but I don’t see you denying that you were sad and lonely.”

She frowns. “Oh. Well. I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not!” She grins at him from ear to ear, battling her eyelashes. “See?”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Wish I hadn’t. You look awful when you're faking it.”

“You’re such a dick, dude.”

“You still suck it though—” He howls with laughter as she pushes him away from her in disgust. “

“You’re a child,” she says with loathing. “And for fuck’s sake, keep your voice down!”

“There’s nobody here!” He gestures around them. It’s true; the final few stragglers are leaving, raising their hands to Percy and Annabeth in a wave as they part. They don’t look surprised to see them together and Annabeth spares a brief moment to wonder when that happened. “But fine, I’ll drop it.”

He settles back again, looking up at nothing in particular. Annabeth alternates between picking at her shoelaces and looking sideways at him.

“You did good today,” she says finally.

He turns to her, head lolling, hair falling into his eyes. With his loose posture and casual smirk Annabeth could see him hanging around a skate park, looking every bit like the bad boy most moms wouldn’t want around their daughters — and certainly not Athena. She feels her cheeks flame despite herself as he drawls, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods at the knife strapped to his thigh. It’s a little longer than hers, which is probably why he chose it. “I appreciate you choosing the superior weapon.”

This makes him laugh. “As if.” He pats the blade with a fond smile growing on his face. “I figured I’d give the poor Vulcan kids—”

“Hephaestus—”

“—a break.” He rolls his eyes at her. “They’re acting like I’m some kind of puzzle.”

She smiles. “You’re a tough customer to them. Of course they’re acting like you’re a puzzle. You are one.”

“Just because their weapons don’t feel right—”

“Too short, too long, too heavy, too light, not balanced right, weird grip,” Annabeth mocks.

He elbows her. “They asked for my feedback! I was being honest!”

“And wasting their time.”

“They keep coming to me,” he whines. “I told them I’d make do but they took it like a personal insult, how’s that my fault? I don’t want them to waste their time on me.”

“Tough customer,” she shrugs. “High maintenance.”

“Ugh.” He flops back. “I’m just going to lie and accept whatever they throw at me next.”

“Even if it’s a bow and arrow?” she asks. He’s abysmal with it. He’d nearly got Chiron instead of the target last class.

“I’ll smack ‘em with the bow and poke ‘em with the arrow,” Percy yawns. “Or I could just stick with the dagger. Steal your thunder.”

“Let me have one damn thing,” she grumbles.

“You have it,” he points out. “You’re way better than me at it. You can do the cool — thingy.” He does some complication motion with his arms like any of this is supposed to make sense to her.

“Uh huh,” she says, unconvinced.

“The thingy! Where you switch the hilt to the front and whoosh.” He mimes wildly again. “So cool.”

“Thank you,” she says, touched.

He turns his gaze on her. He’s got this thing he does where he makes his eyes all big and pleading and it is, admittedly, super hard to resist. Annabeth supposes that this is why Reyna hasn’t killed him yet.

“Teach me?” he asks.

“Percy—” she warns.

“Pleaseee,” he begs, clapping his palms together. “Please, Annabeth, pretty please.”

“You’re so annoying,” she sighs, but he can tell when he’s won; he laughs, clambers to his feet, and pulls her up when she raises a hand. They walk down to the main stage side-by-side, and she tries not to read too much into how they keep bumping shoulders. It’s normal for friends to do this. It’s no big deal, and she isn’t going to make it one.

“I don’t know if I’m even going to be able to teach you well enough,” she admits, as they get to the ground and they remove their daggers. “I barely manage to pull it off half the time I try it. This might be like blind leading the blind, just lettin’ ya know.”

He frowns. One thing about Percy, she’s noticed, is that he’s really expressive, even when his face shifts even the slightest bit. Now his brows have pulled together. It’s cute.

“You pulled it off just fine during Capture the Flag,” he points out.

“Kinda a fluke,” she says. “And I couldn’t keep a good enough grip on it, remember how it went flying after?”

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “That’s okay. Teach me anyway.”

“Fine.” She motions for him to strike her — “Slowly,” she reminds. Percy makes an exaggerated swing at her in slo-mo, complete with the grotesque faces and groans; Annabeth laughs and nearly forgets to pull her dagger, but as Percy approaches, she settles into her stance, sliding her back foot diagonally. As Percy’s knife barely misses where her ribs were not ten seconds ago, she angles her own blade so that his cuts into the hilt. Then she twists her wrist just so, just enough to guide Percy’s longer weapon past her body, locking them in place.

It brings them eye-to-eye.

For a second she wonders if they’re going to kiss. They’re definitely close enough to do it, and she sees, for a second, that his gaze darkens and darts lower for the smallest instance of time. His eyes are so gorgeous. She’s always thought so. They’re always different in different light: more often than not they’re nearly blue in the sunlight, but now they’re a dull shade of green.

Then they blink and moment passes.

He breathes out and grins. “So cool.”

“Yeah, well.” She steps back and he lets his knife fall. He retrieves it. “It’s all in the timing. It’s one of those things you can’t second guess. You see your opening and you take it.”

“Do it again,” he orders, swinging at her again, this time a little faster. She catches it. He oohs.

“It’s redirection.” She gestures for him to come at her again, and he does. “Don’t use brute force. Step and—yep.” There’s a shing sound as she pulls it off again. “Wanna switch?”

Obediently, Percy assumes her previous stance while she rests into a more offensive one. They trade weapons since his has a better reach, and they go through the motions a couple of times until Percy has the basics down.

“Can we spar for a bit so I can see how to pull it off in a real battle?” he asks, uber-casual, but Annabeth sees right through him.

“You asshole, was this was your plan all along?”

“I swear it wasn’t!” he laughs, but the shit-eating grin that’s spreading across his face suggests otherwise. “Come on, Annabeth, this is a learning experiment. I thought you loved those!”

“I didn’t want to sparrrr,” she complains, even as Percy takes an tentative jab at her. She parries with ease. “I hate you.”

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “Now think about how satisfying it would be to beat me up.”

“Trust me,” she grumbles, “it’s all I think about.”

They’re silent for a couple of minutes as their sparring grows more intense. Percy feints, then commits to a real cut; Annabeth catches it on her hilt with a little smirk, but right before she can bind them to a standstill Percy twists away. She presses in closer and he holds up his knife to block her next strike. Sparks fly from the clash but neither of them yield. He grins, she pokes her tongue out.

Then, out of nowhere, Percy kicks out at her legs and she goes down with a pathetic crash. Percy laughs in victory as she tumbles and laughs harder still when she stays down, crossing her arms over her chest and avoiding his eyes.

“Ahahhahaha, you’re such a sore loser,” he says, chuckling still, dropping down to his haunches and trying to catch her gaze. She avoids it resolutely, trying her best not to smile.

“That was cheating.”

“Was not!” he exclaims.

“Was too!” she says.

“Was not,” he reiterates, laughing still. His fingers close in on her ankles and she finally looks up at him. Even in the dirt, he looks beautiful. It makes something in her ache. She looks away.

“So?” he goads. “That’s it? You’re going to just lie there and take that?” When she doesn’t respond, he tuts loudly. Her jaw clenches, and he mocks, “Wow, who knew it was that easy to beat you. No way you’re getting to Number One like that. Heck, I’d be surprised if you got to Ten.”

She lies there, fuming and hating it. She hates how easy it is to push her buttons. She hates that, in such a short time, he has managed to find nearly all of them.

“Wow,” he says again. “I never thought you’d be such a pushover—” He laughs loudly, head tilting back, as she scowls, bats away his offering hand, and gets to her feet.

She points her dagger between his eyes. “Best of three, bitch.”

・・・・・

Two and a half months into, uh, whatever this is, Percy and Annabeth get to talking.

“I have a sister,” he says one day, out of nowhere, as Annabeth snuggles into his side. The cuddling isn’t new but it feels like it is. Annabeth had totally stiffened up the first time he wrapped his arms around her post-sex, but he’d held on until she relaxed, and now she’s at the stage where she can just turn her back to him and wiggle her shoulders and he knows she wants him to be the big spoon.

Today’s that kind of day. Annabeth closes her eyes as Percy pulls her to him and speaks into the side of her neck. His breath tickles, but it doesn’t bother her now. Not anymore, when before she would’ve at least squirmed and forced them both to switch positions.

His hand idly traces her stomach. Today had been the chariot relay and they were both wiped out, so they had just made out for a bit before deciding to stop. And she knows, okay, she knows that them just hanging out and occasionally kissing lazily — it should be weird. It’s too familiar, too horrifyingly domestic, and she should be terrified of the implications. But Annabeth’s warm and cozy from being actually clothed for once and his hand is large and comforting and it’s making goosebumps prickle all over her skin.

His admission makes her heart jump. He’s talked about his mom before and a little bit about his stepdad but he hasn’t mentioned a sister at all until this point, which — again, terrifying. She doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, but it feels monumental, and she’s kind of honored to know this part of him.

“Really,” she hums, trying not to make it a big deal.

“Yeah,” he says into her hair, lips dangerously close to brushing her skin — she can feel his breath whoosh over the back of her neck and it makes her shudder. But he doesn’t kiss her. He never does, not outside of sex. Not outside Bunker Three, which they’d discovered a month ago and had been using for their casual hookups ever since. Apparently its doors needed to be activated by a son of Neptune — who woulda thought?

“She’s…four now,” he continues. “Her name’s Stella. Well — Estelle. My mom and Paul went and gave her a literal grandma name, so I had to make it cuter.”

“Stella is cuter,” she agrees.

“Right?” he sighs. “She was born when I was sixteen, and I don’t really get to spend much time with her. But she loves horses. She loved Blackjack when I introduced them.” He pauses. “Sorry. I guess with the chariot races being today…I couldn’t help thinking of her. She would’ve loved it, I think.”

“Don’t apologize for missing her.” She tilts her neck, giving him room to hook his chin over her shoulder, which he does at once. “It’s only natural.”

“Do you think of your family a lot?” he asks curiously, and she bites her lip, debating on whether or not to tell him. But he’s divulged something big to her, which she doesn’t take lightly. So…

“I kind of…try not to,” she admits. “I started attracting monsters pretty early. It was freaking out my dad’s new wife and her kids, so…I left.”

“Holy shit,” he says, squeezing her hip. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “It is what it is.” She doesn’t tell him how shitty it felt seeing the fear and apprehension in her father’s eyes and how they’re probably living better lives now that she’s gone.

“I found a new home here,” she continues after a minute. “I consider myself one of the lucky ones, really. Everyone’s gone through shit. Leo bounced from one foster home to the next for years before he met Piper. So many people — I’m not gonna name names — were abused by their mortal parents for being weird, for being freaks.” She clenches her fist over Percy’s hand. “I could never imagine it. My dad and stepmom were…scared, and I could tell they’d be happier without me, but at least they never hit me?”

“Bar’s on the floor,” Percy murmurs. “Feeling unwanted that young…that’s not nice of them, Annabeth.”

“I mean,” she says, “they were scared, but that’s understandable, somewhat, at the end of the day. I left because I figured they deserved to lead a peaceful life. God knows it’s all they really wanted.”

Percy’s silent for a while. “I feel kinda selfish now, complaining about missing my family when I’m one of the few who still have a good one.”

“I think it’s great,” she says earnestly. “That you love them so much. It means they must really be worth it.”

“Of course they are,” he says quietly. “They’re incredible people, but everyone deserves to be loved.”

She isn’t sure how to respond to that, so she says, “So your mom’s okay with you aiming for Hero? Even though it’s basically an identity wipe?”

Percy’s silent for a moment. Annabeth wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is — how Heroes are essentially scrapped from the mortal world's systems, untraceable by anyone except Olympus. It means losing your mortal identity, your last name. For someone like Annabeth, it doesn’t matter. Chase just ties her to someone who never wanted to know her. But Jackson probably means something to Percy. That might be something he doesn’t want to give up.

“My mom’s supportive,” he replies, a little somber. “She’s great that way. I could’ve said I wanted to count sand for a living and she would’ve been okay with it.” He pauses. “I mean, just because I won’t be a Jackson anymore on paper doesn’t take it away from me.”

“That’s sweet,” she mumbles. “What’s your happiest memory with her?”

“My mom?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “When I was a kid, she used to take me up to Montauk, to this dingy rented cabin. We’d pack blue jellybeans and gummy worms and sit on the beach with our legs in the surf, and we’d share our candy and she’d point out all the ships on the horizon. Once, this fisherman brought his dog with him, and I probably spent hours on the beach playing with him. Got sunburned to a crisp. But it was the best time of my life.” Annabeth can picture it, and what a sweet image it makes, a baby Percy with those same green eyes, toddling along the ocean and wondering at why it reached for him so longingly.

“When I was a kid,” she whispers, “my dad had — he fostered a dog for a couple months. A Dobermann. Wow, I haven’t thought about him in ages.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out breathy. “I loved that little pup. I — even though my dad’s patience was wearing thin, I loved that little dog.” She sniffs, too loud in the silence. “Sorry, went down memory lane for a sec. But — your mom sounds great, Percy. You’re…very lucky.”

“I am.” For a second his fingers stop lightly drumming against her hip. “You know — I make it a point to visit my family every Christmas.”

Her breathing stutters. “Yeah?”

“I usually bring Jason, Frank, and Hazel,” he continues, voice casual, but only an idiot wouldn’t be able to feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words. “Reyna usually takes a day off to go see her sister, but she’s been over a couple of times, too. Everyone’s welcome, really.”

This — this feels like dangerous territory. Annabeth gulps, hoping he won’t notice, and studies the shells embedded in the sandstone walls.

“What are you saying?” she asks tremulously.

He lets out a short breath into her hair. “I’m saying you’re invited — if you ever feel like you need some good ol’ family time. I know Piper probably leaves Camp for Christmas to visit her dad, so — yeah,” he ends lamely. Then, as though sensing her complete and utter panic, he adds, “As friends, of course.”

“Yeah. Friends.” Annabeth eases up, just a little, trying not to take notice of her pounding heart and the hard lump of emotions rising in her throat. She coughs a little in the hopes of getting rid of it, but it persists.

“My mom loves having people over, she’ll love you,” Percy babbles, as though he, too knows that they’d narrowly escaped going down a perilous path. “And Stella — she’ll adore you. She always likes the girls more, she gets all starry-eyed talking to Hazel and Reyna whenever they visit, which would be insulting if it wasn’t so cute.” He pauses before hurtling on, “And Paul’s a teacher, so I think you’d get along, which is kinda good because he knows way more about the ancient Roman texts than the rest of us do, so you could have, I dunno, an actual intelligent conversation—” 

“God knows I need one,” she laughs, amused, elbowing him in the abdomen when he pinches her side in retaliation.

“Your family sounds great,” she says, after he’s recovered enough to put an arm around her again. “My dad was a teacher, too. College professor in Boston — that’s where we lived when I was little.”

“Hmmm,” he drones. “Is he still there, do you think?”

“No,” she says. “No, he isn’t.”

“Oh,” he responds, quiet.

“I had a dream,” she divulges, a secret she hasn’t even told Piper. “I was in his — their new house. Somewhere in California. He was with my stepmom, playing with two kids. He has two sons. Twins.” She struggles to speak. Her eyes are doing that stinging thing she knows precedes tears, and so she closes them and takes a deep breath to keep herself calm. “I have two half-brothers, I guess. Which is cool. They were building stuff with Lego.” She bites her lip. “They looked…really happy. They all did.”

A single tear slips out of her eye, and she wipes it away in horror. She feels stupid and pathetic, especially since the dream had been when she was fourteen, nearly six years ago. But the memory of it still hurts like being whacked in the chest. She’d been a precocious child, taking right after both her parents. She’d had nightmares and has unintentionally brought monsters home, but her grades were always perfect and she excelled at most things she tried. And she’d tried, a lot, to get her dad to notice her.

She fingers the college ring on her camp necklace, the last memento she has of him, and sighs shakily.

She notices now that Percy’s tracing a smooth pattern into her shoulder. She leans into him, just a little.

“Have you tried contacting him?” he asks her slowly. “Since you left?”

She nods. “Once. When I was…ten, maybe? The moment I figured out IMs, basically. I called him, but I chickened out. Cut the connection the moment I caught sight of his face.” She still doesn’t know what she’d been so scared of, but later she’d written the action off as a moment of weakness and had resolved to never contact him again. She wasn’t going to get in the way of his life, and, well, he hadn’t made any effort to contact her, either, even though he’d known who — what — Athena was.

“I’ve been thinking about trying again,” she murmurs. “Like — I dunno. There’s two sides to every story, right?”

“Ah,” he says.

She cranes her neck to look at him and sighs. “Spit it out.”

“What?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“I can tell you’re just dying to say something,” she retorts, turning away from him again. “So go ahead. I promise I won’t get mad.”

He just breathes for a while before chuckling. “Damn you.”

“I know you pretty well by now, don’t insult me.” She doesn’t add that she feels like she’s known him all her life. She doesn’t add that it terrifies the crap out of her.

She can sense him smiling. “Okay, fine. I just — my first thought was that it might be a bad idea.” He stops, evidently waiting for her to argue against his words, but when she stays silent he ploughs on. “You’re older now and you can handle yourself. And I don’t blame you for wanting to reach out. Maybe you thought he didn’t try to come after you because he was better off that way, but maybe he didn’t because he thought you wanted to stay gone. If you truly want answers, maybe it’s worth it to reach out. But also…he chose to miss out on you for this long, and I just feel like he doesn’t deserve you.” His shoulder shifts in a shrug. “I dunno. I don’t want to dictate your choices. But — I think you’re a pretty cool person, and you deserve a family that loves you for who you are. Who you’ve always been, even if it is a little hard to understand, sometimes.”

She inhales. Her initial response is to shut him down immediately, but there’s something about the earnestness in his voice that makes her pause. She feels raw at the edges, seen in a way she hasn’t felt before. She wants to be contrary just to piss him off. She wants to cry. But she’s grown to care about him too much to snap at him the way she would like to.

“Right now,” she says slowly, “I don’t want to talk to him — like, at all. That time of my life was pretty shitty and his behavior around me was a pretty significant contribution to that. But—” she exhales. “Maybe one day. Just to close that door once and for all.”

“It’s your call,” he says at once; she can tell he’s stunned by her response. “No promises needed.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He sniffs a little. “Do you think we should be heading back now?”

“Probably,” she responds. “It’s late.”

He begins to withdraw his arm from atop her, but she grabs it. “Five more minutes.”

“You must be a nightmare to wake up in the mornings,” he admonishes, but settles back down again. “I’d hate to be Bea.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters.

“Don’t fall sleep.”

“Five minutes, dude, jeez.”

She can hear him grumbling as she closes her eyes and smiles, just a little.

And, well, if five minutes turns into fifty — it’s all Percy’s fault, anyway.

・・・・・

“So, I gotta ask,” Percy says one day, leaning against his elbows on their picnic blanket. He watches with appreciation as Gwen spikes the volleyball right into Will’s waiting arms. “What’s the deal with Athena, man? I mean, looks like a lot of kids want to go Hero, but you and your siblings take it…way more seriously than other people do.”

Annabeth watches Leo serve. Their little game of beach volleyball isn’t part of the War Games, but it’s become a Greek-vs-Roman match, as most things these days do. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, other than…” he shoots her a significant look that makes her cheeks darken, “you’re basically the model child. Not a damn toe outta line. And all your siblings are the same. It’s like you’re building your resume for a job you’re already guaranteed to get.” He pauses to whoop when Jason scores a point, then seems to notice how she’s stiffened. “Yikes. Did I hit a nerve?”

“I…don’t know,” she says, a little tightly. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

And that should be that, only it isn’t.

Annabeth thinks about it far too much. Building a resume for a job you’re already guaranteed to get. It’s true, to some degree, so it shouldn’t annoy her as much as it does. Because it’s more like — she’s signing up for a job where there’s so many other people in the same position, only they’ve got a leg up, and she’s got to claw her way to the top with nothing but blood, sweat, and sheer grit.

It’s the Blessing. It’s always going to come down to that. The only way to be the best is to be Blessed, and Annabeth…she’s building her resume to be noticed. To be seen. Because if she’s seen, if there’s a chance her mom sees her, and chooses to Bless her…Annabeth will repay her tenfold. A hundredfold. In the form of being the best, the greatest, the first in the ranks, a credit and a glory to Athena’s name.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, that Percy doesn’t get it.

Annabeth’s distracted the next night they get together, even though she’d taken great pains to escape her siblings and steal away to Bunker Three. But not even the feel of Percy’s lips on her neck can soothe her agitated mind; she feels like she’s made of styrofoam, stiff, breaking away bit by bit at the edges. And after a couple of minutes, he pulls away from her and deadpans, “What.”

“Nothing,” she dismisses, and tries to pull him back to her. “Just kiss me.”

He acquiesces for a moment or two but then detaches himself again. She whines lowly and revels at how his pupils blow wide at the sound, but the distraction doesn’t work. He gets off of her and says, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she says.

“Are you sick?”

“Dude, no—”

“Are you on your period?”

“Oh my gods, drop it.” Annabeth sits up and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m just…not in the mood right now. There’s just been a lot on my mind, okay?”

“Like what?” he asks, leaning back so he can look at her. Possibly to gauge if she’s lying. She truly hates him sometimes.

“I dunno.” She rubs her arm. “I— I mean, after you leave, I’ll probably get my Quest.”

His brows furrow. “You know there’s no way you’re failing, right? There’s legitimately nothing I can think of that you can’t get out of.”

She bites back a smile. “I know, but— it’s just a lot to think about. Being a Hero and all that, I mean.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” she says at once. “No. Not at all. But you can’t deny that it’s…a huge change from what we’re used to.”

“You don’t like change?” he says softly.

She picks at her shorts. “I mean, does anyone?”

“That’s fair.” His throat works and she watches it, transfixed. She wonders what it would be like to put her lips there, and then she stops wondering because oh wait, that’s right, she knows exactly what it feels like. Ha.

“Why do you want to be a Hero?” he asks, and she startles.

“I,” she says. He waits, and then she chickens out, because there’s…a lot to unpack with that question and she isn’t sure where to begin. “You first?”

“Sure,” he allows. “Well, mine’s the boring answer — I want to help people. I grew up in a big city with a lot of monsters and I thought I was going fuckin’ nuts when I was a kid, y’know? And now, with the Mist declining and more mortals seeing, well, what we see—” He trails off. “I guess it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want anyone to live with that kind of fear.”

She swallows. “That’s very noble.”

He smiles and reaches out, almost like he’s going to touch her hand, but then aborts the movement at the last second, exhaling like he’s caught himself just in time. It stings but she ignores it, and he says teasingly, like nothing’s happened, “And obviously I can’t wait to be famous.”

“Obviously.” Annabeth tries to smile but it fades quickly. “Y’know, the more I think about it, the more I realize I’ll be a terrible famous person.”

“Bullshit,” he says, almost aghast.

“I mean,” she responds, almost bitterly, “there’s nothing—”

“If you say there’s nothing special about you, I’ll start yelling,” Percy says lowly, almost angrily. “And then I’ll tell Piper so she can yell at you too.”

“If the shoe fits,” Annabeth says, annoyed. “And for your information, that wasn’t what I was gonna say. I just think I’d be shit at interviews, that’s all. Being all smiley and friendly.”

He squints at her. She knows he sees the lie for what it is, but thank all the gods because he must take pity on her, and all he says in return in, “So don’t do ‘em.”

“I can’t not,” she says, a little frustrated. “I mean, Clarisse hates interviews more than I do and she still has to do them.” She winces, because all Clarisse does, really, is rage at everyone and call her group of die hard fans a bunch of extras. It’s not nice but it at least helps her stand out, plus a good portion of the country thinks it’s funny and her fans probably have a thing for being insulted, so she’s still in the Top Ten. Annabeth doesn’t see herself doing that. She can’t see herself doing anything, really, other than kicking some monster butt and saving lives.

“There’s all kinds of celebrities,” Percy says thoughtfully. “You can just be the mysterious one. You know how long it’s been since Taylor Swift gave an interview? Or Beyonce, for that matter?”

“I—never thought about that,” she admits. “But if I avoid interviews, how the hell are people going to get to know me? Because —” she takes a breath. “I want to be a Hero to help people, same as you. But…and I’m going to sound selfish here.”

“No judgement,” Percy whispers.

“I do want to be seen. And known. I do want all of that,” she says, and she feels her eyes sting as she says it. She’s never, ever admitted it out loud. “I want be out there killing monsters. They took away too many people and I don’t want anyone to feel the way I did when I lost the only family I ever had.” She doesn’t mention Thalia and Luke, but they’re basically urban legends around Camp and she’s pretty sure Percy knows, even though he has never once pried. “I want to help people, but I want to be the best at it. I—I want my mom to be proud of me.” She buries her face in her hands. “I sound so stupid.”

Gentle hands settle on her knees. “You don’t, Annabeth. You really don’t.”

“That’s why all of us are so obsessed with being the best children of Athena we can be,” Annabeth babbles, apparently on the chatty train at the secret-spilling station with no way to get off. “We’re all just a bunch of people-pleasers, we had rough childhoods with nobody to tell us we did good. And being accepted by Athena in her agency — it’s an honor. A sign she sees us. A Blessing would be even better. And I’ve — I’ve tried so hard and I’ve done everything I can to make her proud. I’ve found the Fleece and beat the Sphinx and a dozen other things that any godly parent would be proud of. And now — I’m so close to being Hero. I can’t fail here.”

She sounds desperate, pleading. She isn’t crying but she’s really close. What must he think of her, someone so secure in his own family life. How he must pity her, someone so—so fragile, someone so…unblessed.

“I just want to be permanent to someone,” she says, and the tears finally break through. “And if I’m a Hero, a good one, the best one…at least to someone, I will be.”

They’re both quiet for a long time. Annabeth feels more and more ashamed of herself the longer the silence goes on, and her heart just about stops when Percy says, “I get it.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” she sniffs.

“You think my dad’s acknowledged me?” he fires back. “You think he’s shown one sign he cares? Annabeth, I was born Blessed and he still hasn’t said a word. I was a nightmare child growing up and he never even tried to help my mom. And I was never Claimed when I got to Camp. If I wasn’t Blessed, we probably wouldn’t ever have known who my father is.”

Annabeth feels her breath catch in her throat. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice brittle, and when she looks up finally, from her own palms, she sees his own eyes fill with tears. “I know I’m lucky. I know my path is easier than yours. But — when it comes to wanting to be seen, Annabeth, I get it. I get it far too well.” He tilts his head back with a sigh. “And your mom has her own agency. I’ll be absorbed into Olympus with Jason and I doubt I’ll ever get to see my dad. I keep telling myself I don’t care, but…”

“You can’t help it,” she whispers.

“I can’t help but hope,” he agrees.

“Like,” she says, “I know it’s stupid, but…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” She swipes at her eyes with a little laugh. “So, what do you think? Good sob story for Graham Norton, right?”

This, at least, makes him laugh. “You should do that game show with James Corden. Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts.”

“I just keep spilling my guts unprompted?” she says, chuckling, then shakes her head. “No thanks, I’ll still to the mysterious persona, I think. Maybe I’ll just release a monthly newsletter. Like a diary.”

“You know social media is a thing, right?"

“I can’t handle that,” she admits. “I’ve seen Twitter and it freaks me out.”

“That’s why you’ve got your team, right?” He bumps her shoulder. “You won’t be alone, Annabeth.”

That’s right. She won’t be.

“Thanks,” she admits. “I feel better.”

He smiles. “Anytime.”

She leans against him, tired all of a sudden, and hides her smile when he leans back. Her head feels miraculously clear, and even though she’s sure all her anxieties are going to come spilling back in a while, it’s nice to not have to think about it for a while. And it’s nice to have this moment with him, without sex involved. Like they’re real friends, despite what they project to the rest of the world.

“Wanna make out?” he asks a minute later.

She groans. “Percy, oh my gods, have you not heard of having a damn moment?”

“I figured it was worth a shot!”

“You have all the grace of a Minotaur in a china store.”

“Hey, be nice,” Percy laughs. “I have Minotaur-related trauma.”

“Join the fucking club.” Annabeth gives up pretending not to want him and straddles him; his arms fly to her waist and he looks up at her with starry eyes and his dimples carves itself deeper and deeper into his left cheek. Her gaze keeps jumping to his lips; the itch, which had quietened as they talked, now springs back to life like an engine that’s been fed new oil.

“Back in the mood?” he checks, even as he leans in closer. His fingers toy with the edge of her t-shirt. His knuckles brush the bare skin of her back and she shivers. And man, even if she hadn’t been in the mood, this — the lightest of touches from him — would bring her back to the edge just fine.

“For you? Maybe,” she allows, and crashes their lips together again.

・・・・・

“Dare you to jump,” Percy says, swinging his legs like a little kid.

“Kiss my ass,” Annabeth ways without thinking. Then — “Wait, don’t.” Because she’d said the same thing a couple of days ago when he’d dared her to do something else no less stupid – and then, later at night, he’d flipped her around and planted a loud, wet kiss right at the centre of a buttcheek. Mortifying.

He laughs at the memory. She shoots him a dirty look. Jump, he’d said, like it’s easy. They’re literally on top of the climbing wall, and she doesn’t want to dive into a pool of lava, thanks.

She’s tired and still smarting a little from the Greeks’ loss from two nights previous — during the second Capture the Flag, the Romans had had Jason, Percy, and Hazel leading their army in a brutal show of strength, so Annabeth hadn’t had the chance to fight him one-on-one, and, on top of everything, she’d seen firsthand just how strong the Blessed could be. Even with Leo and Piper on their side, they’d still lost. It has been…a rude awakening of sorts. One she’d needed.

She’d spent the next day wallowing and the day after that sparring Hazel, retiring only when she saw just how worn out the younger girl was getting. Percy’d come along to drag her away after dinner, though, and instead of pulling her into a secluded corner the way she’d expected, he’d brought her here instead.

The funny thing is now nobody bats so much as an eyelash when they see Percy and Annabeth together. When Percy had shown up at dinner, flyaway hair and glittering eyes suggesting he had taken Blackjack for a ride, Hazel had just commented, “You missed sparring with Annabeth today,” and Leo had grumbled, “I thought you guys had fought when she showed up here alone.” She’d laughed, of course, because it was a joke – right?

But now that she thinks about it — it’s kind of true. These days, she and Percy are together more often than not, almost like he’s replaced Piper, which makes her feel guilty. But Piper and Jason are pretty much en route to getting married and having fifty pretty babies at this point, and Annabeth doesn’t want to steal her best friend’s time, especially since Jason is going to be leaving soon.

She hasn’t told Piper about Percy. She — and this is going to make her sound like such a fucking bitch — kind of doesn’t want to. What Annabeth and Percy do is — it’s fun. It’s a way to work away at the stress of everything, a way to have some fun without thinking too seriously about what’s going to happen after. Percy’s kept his end of the promise, having not told Jason and Hazel a word about it, and Annabeth, if given the choice, wouldn’t want to tell anyone besides Piper, anyway.

Only, telling Piper would make it feel — real, somehow, if that makes sense. And Piper — despite doing her best to steer clear of the stereotypes that plague her cabin — is a big believer in love. If she tells her that she’s hooking up with Percy for the heck of it…oh man. Piper’ll be so disappointed in her, and then she’ll start teasing her, and then she’ll probably try to convince her to give dating a shot, and Annabeth doesn’t want to deal with that right now. She can figure out her love life after she’s gone Pro.

And then there’s Percy, of course.

She genuinely enjoys his company so much now that she can scarcely believe she loathed him so much just two months previously. And even though they’ve been sneaking away to have sex for what feels like forever, she’s still — not bored by him. Like, at all. Sexually or otherwise. The itch is only growing with time. It’s downright absurd.

They really do spend a lot of time together, to the point where he feels comfortable enough to ambush her at the doorstep of her cabin with some kind of weird request that always makes her siblings’ eyes roll. Which is another thing. Annabeth and her siblings — they’re all proud Athena kids. Annabeth knows just how much she values her own pride. She’s gotten into actual fights with the Ares kids, just because they said something disrespectful about her mother.

She should hate Percy. They all should. His very existence is an insult to Athena. Kind of. If you squint. The point being that there’s no way in hell Athena would approve of her — relationship (?) — with the son of Poseidon. Neptune. Whatever. 

She kind of feels like she’s kissed the chances of getting a Blessing just by entertaining his presence. But the fact of the matter remains that she likes Percy. He’s fun and good company and she respects him, seeks his opinion the way she does only a couple of people in her life, Like Piper and Grover and Chiron.

She wonders when she stopped making her every move based on what Athena might think. She wonders when she stopped caring about it.

What sucks the most about him being here is the fact that he has to leave. She isn’t quite sure how she feels about that, really. They don’t really talk about it. Actually, since becoming friends it’s probably the one topic they steer clear of, which, if she thinks about it, is kind of weird, because Percy’s the kind of person who likes to hash out his emotions right then and there. In the face of conflict he jumps right in; Annabeth waits. She assesses and gets all the information she can before tackling a situation the way she thinks it should be handled.

There’s also the fact that something is changing between them. The heady elation from their very first fight has now kind of melted away into something less intense but no less potent. She isn’t quite sure what it is or what it means, only that it makes her heart stutter when she catches Percy looking at her tenderly, or, indeed, looking at her at all.

Emotions are a fucking nuisance, she thinks. She stares down moodily at the bubbling lava.

Even without looking at him, she can tell Percy’s gaze is fixed on her, and she feels her neck heating up from his attention. They’ve come a long way from when they used to spit out sentences at each other liked veiled death threats, but even though they’ve become somewhat close she feels as though there’s a lot he’s hiding from her. Sometimes she can look at him and know, just know, that he’s putting up a wall, and she doesn’t know why, because her initial impression of him had been that he was someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, and she knows it must be somewhat true.

“What?” she finally dares to ask, angling her body so she can meet his gaze head-on, only to find him deep in thought, eyes fixed on the clouds. The oddly gloomy expression he wears throws her. He looks so lonely and so sad even though she’s right there. Part of her wants to ask him what he’s thinking and what he’s feeling, but she’s lowkey scared of what he might say. She finds herself clenching her jaw in confusion. Just when she thought she’d finally understood him, too. Will she ever be able to figure him out?

“What?” he shoots right back, turning to her, gaze calm and thoughtful.

She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She decides to bite. “You seem on edge.”

When he doesn’t respond, she adds, “You okay?”

“Dunno.” He gnaws lightly on his lower lip before turning to her. “Jason just told me he might stay.”

“He what?” This has gotten her attention. She knows he likes Piper — really, everyone knows he likes Piper — but he must really be head over ass in love if he’s considering staying here for her.

“It’s not just because of Piper,” Percy says, as though reading her mind. “He’s. More free here. Happier. Even I can see it.” He scowls at the rocks beneath them. “Back at New Rome — it’s like he’s being watched all the time. Because he’s a son of Jupiter and all, y’know? There are all these expectations.”

“Aren’t you treated the same way, though?” She questions. “Or Hazel?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Annabeth, do you remember seeing a temple to Neptune when you went to New Rome?”

“Um.” She hesitates, trying to recall one, but comes up blank.

“Neptune isn’t Rome’s favorite,” he says, and there’s no trace of pity in his voice. “They might even like Pluto better, actually — but yeah. Nobody really had expectations of me the way they did Jason.” He shrugs. “It was all the better for me, actually. I couldn’t imagine dealing with the senate as often as Jason did. Imagine having long conversations with Octavian.” He shudders.

Annabeth wrinkles her nose at the mention of the augur’s name. “But they elected you praetor, right?”

“Remember that, huh?” His side-eye makes her flush in mortification. How could she forget the argument that had started…all this?

“I was elected mostly because Jason refused to give the job to anyone else,” he continues. “Sure, the senate approved and everyone was happy for me and raised me on a shield and did the whole thing, but it wasn’t something I earned, y’know?” He drums his fingers lightly against his thigh thoughtfully. “So I convinced the senate that Frank was the better choice. It wasn’t hard — he’s a son of Mars, which looks great on paper, and he’s got some good ol’ connections. His mom was a legacy of Rome.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not something he likes to broadcast,” Percy agrees. “So — yeah. He’s praetor now. We’re all close to graduating soon, and where we graduate from determines where we’ll be posted, so—” he shrugs tightly. “Guess Jason wants to get some freedom while he still can, y’know?”

“Why didn’t he wanna be praetor?” Annabeth asks, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I mean — I’m sticking to the stereotype, mostly, but he’s a literal son of Zeus. Sorry —  Jupiter. Most people would expect him to be born to lead.”

“Jason isn’t like that,” Percy says quietly, fondly. Annabeth’s noticed that even though they’re friendly with pretty much everyone, the two of them share a particularly strong bond, something like hers and Piper’s. She has to remind herself that until Percy had arrived at Camp Jupiter, Jason had probably been dealing with being the only child of the Big Three all alone.

“Jason’s…softer than anyone would expect. He looks the part of the golden boy for sure.” He laughs a little. “And he’s definitely strong, and capable — it’s just that underneath all that he kind of just wants to chill? He never wanted to lead, same as me —  although our reasons are pretty different.”

“You didn’t wanna deal with the senate,” Annabeth recalls.

Percy’s eyes shine with mirth. “That’s part of it. Mostly it’s because I know I don’t wanna lead armies and all that. I wanna be in the army, not lead one.” He looks at her and she gets it, even though personally she wouldn’t have minded either role. “And Jason — he just doesn’t want to have to shoulder the responsibility of — war. Of so many lives in his hands – all because he’s the son of Jupiter.” He hums. “He’s not like Reyna. Or you. Or even Frank. I think he’d be happier just to be fighting alongside his comrades if a war ever came about.”

“I get that.” It had been why Thalia had left, after all.

“That’s why he likes it here,” he speculates. “I mean, everyone here is capable in their own right, and there’s order even though there’s not too much discipline — I mean, it’s not chaos, it’s just not the way it is in New Rome,” he adds quickly, getting the full blast of her glare. “I mean, you’re the leader here, aren’t you? But I get the feeling it’s kind of an unsaid thing.”

“That’s true,” she admits. “Before me, it was Beckendorf. It’s kind of a skill-and-experience based thing. Parentage has nothing to do with it.”

“See? There’s a lot of appeal there,” Percy agrees. “So — yeah. He’s definitely considering staying.” He grins. “And then there’s Piper, of course.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Piper’ll flip her shit if Jason stays. Trust me, if Jason thinks she’s holding back — it’s only because she thinks he’s leaving at the end of this.”

He laughs freely. “He does think that, actually. He’s getting super mopey about it, too. I’ll tell him.”

“Wouldn’t that cement his decision?” She glances at him. “Don’t you want him to go back with you?”

Percy goes still for a second. The light from the lava pool limns him, so she can see his throat work as he swallows. “Yeah. I — when I go back.” He pauses.

“It’ll suck without Jason, for sure,” he adds bracingly, seemingly snapping himself out of his daze. “But I would never stand in the way of him being happy — and besides, I’ve got friends there. And we’ll get phones when we’re hired at our agencies on the outside. Iris-Messaging is a thing, too. We’ll be fine. Not like we’re gonna be losing touch forever.”

Annabeth purses her lips. “I forgot we’ll have phones.” She doesn’t really want one. Phones are more of a statement of We can handle ourselves for demigods on the outside, but she’s dreading having to make an Instagram and a Twitter and god knows what else — just to stay relevant and popular.

Percy hums. “This time next year, we’ll be graduated.”

“Out in the world,” she says, swinging her legs and looking upward. “You’re lucky you’re Blessed.”

She doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s giving her that same exasperated look that he gets whenever they touch on this topic. They haven’t really discussed it since Annabeth basically spilled all her deepest darkest insecurities to him, but Percy always launches into the same tirade as Piper, the whole Annabeth you don’t need powers lecture, and she’s not in the mood to deal with it, so she quickly adds, “We’ll have our names out there for real. That’s. Wild.”

He nods in silent agreement. “It’s insane when you think about how now is probably our last few months of peace, y’know?”

“You could not go pro instead,” she suggests, laughing out loud when he jostles her. “You’ll be able to have all the peace you want if you decide to be — I dunno — on my PR team instead.”

“I could be your sidekick,” he laughs: they both know fully well that they both enjoy battling too much to ever consider any other career. Then, wickedly — “Or you could be mine.”

She elbows him in the chest, ignoring how even that bit of contact makes her go warm all over. She chalks it up to the competitive fire between then that’s never truly died. “I’ll hire you as my sidekick when I hit Number One in the rankings.”

“Not unless I get there first.” They both grin at each other, but she notices that his smile fades quickly.

He heaves a great sigh and leans back against the rocks, hands behind his head as he hums a vaguely familiar tune. She can’t help but feel as though he’s switched positions to avoid looking at her in the eyes, and she feels oddly unsettled all of a sudden at the thought of it. His weird melancholy settles over her and she’s unable to put her finger on why.

For the first time, thinking about her life as a Pro Hero brings no comfort, only questions. What will her equation with Percy be like in a couple of years, she wonders? Will they be close as they are today, two rivals battling it out for the top spot, or will they lose touch, leaving them near-strangers?

She doesn’t want that to happen, however much her mother may disapprove. She wants Percy in her life.

But — oh well, she thinks, sighing loudly and leaning back so that her shoulder touches his, there’s no sense in freaking out about what might happen and what might not. Tonight, she can forget about the future, and enjoy this rare moment of quiet with Percy at her side.

・・・・・

Their sparring matches have turned into something of a popular event in camp.

At first it’s just Jason and Piper who begin to watch them. Then it’s Leo, and then Malcolm, and then Bea, and then the entirety of the Ares and Athena cabins, who come armed with notebooks and pencils, claiming to be ‘doing research.’ Hermes cabin begins to keep track of the betting pool. Aphrodite’s kids lament at what they call “a shit ton of unresolved sexual tension.” Little do they know just how many times they’ve resolved that particular matter, but — back to the point.

The Greeks had just won the third and final Capture the Flag, making up for their loss in the second game and winning the series. Annabeth’s thrilled, even though there hadn’t been any intense showdown between her and Percy this time, either. The finale win has everyone in high spirits, so her usual sparring match with Percy had turned into a tag-yourself-in kind of thing. Annabeth had switched with Piper, who had sparred with Percy for a couple of minutes before he invited Hazel to take his place.

Annabeth sits beside Jason, her eyes on the match but her attention fixed on Percy, who’s standing a little off to the side and taking a sip of water. Drenched in sweat but eyes still lit from the fight, he really is a sight to behold, she thinks offhandedly, refusing to look away even when he meets her eyes.

She watches as he approaches, shooting her a crooked little smile as he plops down on Jason’s other side. He knocks their knees together hard enough for Annabeth’s own to get hit, and so she knocks Jason’s knees right back, reveling in the sound of Percy’s laughter as he shifts away to dodge the impact.

“If you’re going to fight, please don’t do it when I’m in the middle,” Jason says tiredly, and she recalls all the times they’d both been kicking each other underneath the dinner table, only for poor Jason to be caught in the crossfire.

“I just wanna snuggle with you,” Percy says in a mock-baby voice, which is so grating on her ears that she winces. “You’re leaving me soon.” He throws an arm around Jason and rubs his face into his neck — Jason yelps and pushes his head away, making blegh noises as he wipes Percy’s sweat away.

“Technically, you’re leaving me,” Jason points out. “And I’ll be back in a while to get the rest of my stuff and finish the transfer paperwork.”

“I’m surprised you don’t want it delivered to you on a silver platter,” Percy says huffily.

“Drama queen,” Jason responds, his blue eyes laughing and his voice fond. “You know — you could stay, too.”

“But why would he?” Annabeth cuts in, almost angrily, because he’s made his choice, he’s constantly talking about going back home to his family. She jerks backwards a little defensively as both of them turn to stare at her, and they look — odd. Jason’s gaze is contemplative, if a little confused, and Percy’s — Percy’s is something she can’t place, a quick flash of something that’s quickly replaced by a cool, impassive mask, a transition so smooth it actually gives her the shivers.

“Yeah, why would I,” he says, in a very duh tone of voice, and Jason snaps his head back round to stare at him. Annabeth can’t see the look he shoots Percy, but it must be something like incredulousness, because Percy just shakes his head slightly and clenches his jaw tight. She knows that look all too well — he’s made up his mind and isn’t going to budge.

Jason bites his lip, going back to watching the fight, but Annabeth can tell he’s distracted.

“I thought—” he begins.

“You thought wrong,” Percy says, body rigid. He calls out to Piper, “Hey, switch with me!”

He stands up before Annabeth can even think of anything to say; Piper’s moved on to sparring Leo, who, seeing Percy walking towards him, lights both of his arms entirely on fire and cackles, “I’ve been waiting for this.” Percy drops his sword, cracking open his water bottle and summoning a great disc of water in front of him. Annabeth smiles as Leo’s first fireball vaporizes with a small hiss upon impact, leading to a chorus of cheers and catcalls emerging from their small audience.

Jason, who had been watching her closely, fixates instead on Piper as she takes Percy’s seat.

“Hey,” she says to them both, reaching around Jason’s back to pinch Annabeth in the arm before planting a kiss on Jason’s cheek. Annabeth watches with amusement as he turns pink. Piper grins.

They’d made it official when Jason announced he was staying, and have been inseparable ever since. They’re — really cute, she has to admit. Very well-suited for each other: Jason’s calm kind of balances Piper’s particular brand of crazy, and Piper in turn brings out his adventurous side. They’re very much in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, though, which means a lot of PDA, so everyone’s kind of steering clear of them at the moment. Annabeth tries not to, figuring that she might as well get used to them now, since she doubts they’ll be breaking up anytime soon – if ever.

She turns back to Percy, who is laughing as he douses Leo’s hair. He looks happy, she thinks, unable to stop herself smiling. He looks really happy.

“It’ll suck to see him leave,” Piper says thoughtfully, and Annabeth feels her guard go up the way it usually does when her friend makes an offhanded, seemingly innocent comment that is, more often than not, directed towards her.

“Yeah,” she agrees cautiously.

“I wish he didn’t have to,” Jason admits.

“Well,” Annabeth says, a tad irritably now, mostly because she wishes he didn’t have to go, too, and there’s nothing she can do about it. “It’s his choice, right? If he wants to go back, we should let him. New Rome is his home, after all. And his mom and sister and stepdad are all in California, too.”

Piper pauses. “He has a sister?”

Jason looks to her, like you take this one, so Annabeth nods. “She’s pretty young. He loves her.”

“You know a lot about him,” Piper observes, her gaze and her voice all — all smug and knowing. Annabeth turns away, the back of her neck boiling.

“We talk once in a while,” she says in a grumble. “We’re not fighting all the time, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Piper says, putting both hands up. “I was just thinking — you guys have gotten pretty close.”

“As close as I’ll let myself get to a son of Neptune,” Annabeth grits out. “So?”

“So nothing,” Piper replies soothingly, but Annabeth catches the exasperated look she exchanges with Jason.

For some reason, it incenses her. She stands up with a short, “I’ll see you later,” and stomps off, not really noticing where she is until she looks up and sees the beach, which is completely devoid of other demigods as far as the eye can see. Probably because it’s so damn hot, she reasons as she makes her way over to the shoreline, sitting down right at the edge so there’s only the occasional wave that splashes over her feet.

She doesn’t spend enough time at the beach, she thinks, watching the waves rise, lined with bubbles and froth, a spectacular display of blue and white. It’s peaceful here. And there’s something in the air that’s calming.

She watches a tiny crab pop out of the sand next to her. It scuttles closer and closer and Annabeth tries to pinpoint the cause of her anger.

She loves Piper. She does. But Piper knows matters of the heart more than Annabeth, and she knows it, too. Annabeth hates it when she gets like this, all knowing and full of riddles like she’s the fucking Oracle. Like, damn! If you wanna say something, just say it!

She exhales slowly, feeling her anger fading away with every new breath. She understands that Piper wants Percy to stay. She would like that, too. But Annabeth isn’t going to be the one to tear Percy away from his home and his real, actual family — and for what? Her own selfish desire to have Percy near? For him to always be around, a constant reminder that she needs to be better?

She can’t do that. Percy loves his family — he loves them so deeply it makes her ache for someone to love her like that. And Annabeth respects that, and so she’ll let him go, even though it is with extreme reluctance that she’ll do so.

Annabeth stays on the beach until her skin is browner and the heat has faded into something more tolerable, after which she picks herself back up and heads back into Camp. The sparring matches are done, and Annabeth finds Piper — sans Jason — walking to the crafts building, so she grabs her, gives her a hug, and whispers a quick apology in her ear. Piper just smiles, a little sad, before directing her to where she’d last seen Percy, which is a little embarrassing for Annabeth, who knows for certain that she’d had the question written all over her face.

Percy has, predictably, parked his ass at the lakefront, and he doesn’t even react when she settles down next to him.

“Kicked Leo’s ass?” she questions after a moment, unable to stand the weird silence.

“You know I did.” He grins at her, but it’s gone all too quick. She frowns. It feels like just yesterday when he’d been laughing incessantly in her face — when had this started?

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, with a thumbs-up. “All good.” It’s as fake as the time she’d flashed the very same gesture at a bemused Bea the morning after their first kiss. Annabeth feels helpless in the face of it. She wants to say something, do something, anything that’ll make him feel better, but she can’t do that unless she knows what’s wrong, and he’s not telling her.

She changes the subject. “Are you excited to get back home?”

It is the wrong thing to say. His eyes darken. She hastens to elaborate, “I mean, your parents will be glad to have you close by again! And — ooh, you should get something for Stella, I can help you pick something out from the camp store.” She tries for a smile, ducking a little so she can catch his eyes. “There’s a really cool Daughter of Athena t-shirt that she might like. Tell her it’s from me – she needs a good role model to look up to, after all, don’t you think?”

“Her brother isn’t enough?” he finally relents, leaning back against his hands and shooting her an amused smile.

Victorious, Annabeth laughs. “Percy, there’s no way she’s even gonna be telling anyone you’re her brother.”

“Of course not,” he agrees. “When she grows up, all her friends will be too busy freaking out about me, hanging up posters of me on their walls — I wouldn’t wanna deal with them knowing I was her brother if I was in her shoes.”

“Narcissist,” she says gleefully.

“It’s true!” he jokes. “Same energy as Piper not telling anyone about her dad.”

“I’m surprised she told you.”

“I have my ways.” Laughing at Annabeth’s disbelieving stare, he adds, “Jason let it slip.”

She smiles. He smiles back. It’s nice for a moment, but then her stomach drops when she remembers he’s going to be gone in a few days.

Percy turns back to the lake, leaning forward to pass a hand atop the surface of the still waters. When he withdraws his fingers, they are completely dry.

“I’m going to miss this place,” he comments. “I was actually pretty sure I’d hate it after the warm welcome we received—”

“I resent that.” She pokes his side.

“—but I really do like it here.” He looks around, at the lake, the rolling hills, the roofs of the buildings they can see from here, the woods, before his eyes finally stop on her. She flushes from the intensity of his gaze.

“I’ll miss you,” she admits, her throat feeling raw.

“You will?” he asks, with such disbelief that it’s actually kind of offensive. She knows she holds her heart carefully, in a padded box surrounded by stone walls, but she’d have thought that after all this time, he’d know her a little better than that.

“Of course I will. It was — fun, having you here,” she croaks out with an odd little laugh that sounds teary and weak, one that has her ashamed immediately. “But hey, we can still get some good sparring sessions in before you have to leave. And we have a few more nights, too.”

It’s silent, save for the sounds of muffled chitchat from the naiads underwater. A cool breeze lifts the ends of his hair as he bites his lip, turning to face her.

“About that,” he says — quietly, so that even anyone coming their way wouldn’t be able to hear. “I think we should stop.”

Her entire body turns to ice, which makes zero sense, since she’d known they’d have to stop at some point. It’s just—

She’d just figured they’d stop when he left. Not now. Not like this — not with Percy initiating it, his eyes uncertain but his lips thinned with resolve.

He doesn’t want to stop now, either, she surmises at once, but he’s doing it anyway, because — she stares deeper into the unforgiving line of his mouth – because he thinks he has to. Why?

Frustrated that she can’t read more from his expression, she turns away in frustration. “Okay.”

“I just think— look.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve gotten really used to all the sex, okay?” He twists his face into a smile that’s almost convincing. “I need to get myself un-used to it, if that makes sense.”

It kind of does. Annabeth hadn’t even thought about that — though she suspects it won’t be a problem. She’s never had the urge to do anything sexual with anyone before Percy, and she probably won’t after he leaves. But maybe it’s not the same for him — and suddenly the thought of him with someone else, anyone else, even just for something casual, has her wanting to scream and cry and tear her own hair out. The feeling is so intense and jarring that it catches her off guard and turns her whole mouth dry. She has to shove it down before speaking again.

“We had a good run while it lasted.” She digs her fingers into her thigh to stop herself babbling something embarrassing, like I wish we didn’t have to stop or We could keep going if you stayed. She has to remind herself to shut the fuck up. She feels disgusted at herself. She’s being so selfish — and she needs to get herself under control.

This arrangement was always meant to be temporary, after all.

The thought leaves her feeling hollow. 

“I had fun.” He eyes her. “I’ve never really — done anything like that, before. With anyone else.”

“Same,” she says at once, willing to admit it now that he has. “It didn’t — feel right.”

“Yeah,” he says, making eye contact with her for a split second before looking away again. “Yeah, exactly.”

The itch inside her grows unbearable. She suddenly can’t remember the last time she kissed him, and she wants to ask, but she can’t bring herself to look that desperate when it doesn’t even seem like he cares. She wants to — she wants to tell him to snap out of the mood he’s in. She wants to tell him that even though she’s only known him four months, he’s changed her. He’s made her better. He’s made her want to be better, too, which — a mere thanks isn’t enough to cover just how much she owes him for that. She wants to tell him that she wants to stay friends. That the sex had been nice, of course — it had been great,  but just talking to him had been nicer. That she’d had more fun with him now than she’s had with people she’s been acquainted with all her life. That she’d rather watch paint dry with him than do anything else with anyone else. That she’s going to miss him, a lot, for a long time. That she looks forward to seeing him become a really, really great Hero, because she has no doubt that he will be.

She kind of wants to tell him to stay.

She can’t let it end like this. She can’t. She has to say — something. Anything. Please.

“Percy!”

They both turn. It’s Hazel, standing at the edge of the pier and waving. “You said you’d help me pack!”

It’s a cruel, harsh reminder of his inevitable departure. Annabeth’s struck still by the coldness of it, even as Percy stands up.

“You coming?” he asks her. She shakes her head dumbly.

A flash of disappointment, before he covers it with indifference. “Okay. See you later.”

She watches him go, his steps somewhat dragging and his hair swept sideways in the wind. Hazel frowns when she catches a good look at his face, and she casts Annabeth a querying glance. She shakes her head.

He doesn’t look back, not even once.

And Annabeth—

Annabeth can’t help but feel, unable to shake away the feeling of cold dread that settles over her shoulders, that she’s missed something major.

・・・・・

The morning the Romans are due to leave, Annabeth feels though she’s walking around with an anvil in her stomach.

Percy had shot her a sad little smile when she’d slid next to him at breakfast that morning. Piper had raised a brow at this —  Annabeth and Percy usually sat across from each other, all the better for their usual breakfast bickering match — but luckily she hadn’t said anything about it. Which is good, because Annabeth can’t explain the change herself. She’d just. Wanted to feel close to him in some way, maybe. She’s fucking pathetic. Has been since they’d stopped meeting up in the dead of night.

After breakfast, Chiron had given everyone a little speech, about what an honor it had been to host everyone. Annabeth wanted to follow up with a quick afterword, but today her tongue had glued itself to the top of her mouth and stayed there. She’d just shaken her head, feeling breathless, when Chiron gestured for her to take the stage.

Now she watches numbly as Percy loads his luggage into a chariot and wanders back to Blackjack, smiling quietly as the pegasus nuzzles into his neck. Jason stands next to him, clad in jeans and an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt that had caused Piper to tear up at the sight of him. Everyone else is talking and laughing and making bets with each other for next year, a sign that the exchange programme had been a resounding success. Despite all odds, there’s actual camaraderie here. It’s all she’d ever wanted, and yet she feels hollow.

Hazel gives her a hug, promising to stay in touch, before stepping back into line next to the other Romans behind her. They fall into rank naturally, and Annabeth’s half expecting Jason to step up from behind her to formally thank her for hosting, but she’s thrown off-guard when Percy steps forward instead, his eyes sad, and sticks his hand out in front of her.

“Thank you,” he says formally, “for accommodating us so well. We truly can’t thank you enough for being such gracious hosts.” It’s so wrong. Everything —  from his emotionless tone, to his carefully dead expression, to his stupid purple t-shirt —  it’s so wrong. She swallows as she clasps his hand, squeezing a little because she can’t do anything else. She can’t — she can’t throw herself at him, kiss him the way she wants to. And she has to remind herself that he probably doesn’t want her to, either.

He doesn’t return the squeeze. It kind of shatters her.

“Um, thank you,” she says blankly, holding back tears, “for staying here, and for being open enough to embrace our customs — I know it must’ve been hard.” She pauses, looking around at the sea of purple. She makes eye contact with Gwen, who nods encouragingly. “It was our pleasure to have you here. And —  I know we have our rules, but you’re all very welcome to visit again.”

“Thank you,” Percy says, and then — and then he squeezes her hand back, just a little, and Annabeth feels something in her break.

She surges forward, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder to hide whatever tears might fall. There are a couple of gasps from behind her, because although it had been known that she had Percy weren’t enemies anymore, she’d never allowed herself to show him any affection — at least, not like this. Not physically.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispers. “I can’t wait for us to be Heroes.”

“You’ll be a good one,” he whispers back. And then, quickly, as though he can’t help it — “Just — and don’t take this the bad way – don’t let Athena get to you. Do what you want. And – just…you don’t need powers to kick ass. You already do.”

She kind of wants to argue, but what comes out instead is a tiny noise that makes her sound utterly pitiful. Percy must finally give in, then, because finally his arms settle around her back. She relaxes at the feeling; it’s become familiar, now, after a dozen or so nights of just cuddling. She soaks it in for a second, before she pulls away with almighty sniff, smiling wetly at the smile he sends her. This one is genuine, she knows, borne from their mutual respect of each other and acknowledging the friendship they’ve built.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I’ll miss you too, Number Two,” he says, and she laughs, punching him in the shoulder.

“You wish,” she says. “I’ll enjoy looking down on your from the top of the charts.” Then, louder—  “And maybe next time you guys will finally learn enough strategy to beat us.”

“We’ll see next year,” Hazel replies, with unexpected confidence. “Next year, it’s our home turf.” This sets off another round of playful insults yelled from both sides. Annabeth laughs as she hears some particularly creative ones, wiping her eyes quickly when she’s certain nobody is looking.

Finally, Percy turns to Hazel, nodding at the rest of his crew. He gives Jason a long hug, whispering something in his ear. He claps Leo on the back, winks at Piper, and stops in front of Annabeth.

“Well,” he says, “I’ll see you around, Annabeth.”

“I’ll see you,” she responds.

She watches him turn and lead everyone away; Hazel clambers atop Arion to lead the land team while Percy hops up onto Blackjack, telling his fellow fliers something in a serious tone.

There’s a loud cheer from Camp Half-Blood as the horses whinny in near-unison before galloping away through the woods; and at the same time Blackjack and the other pegasi take to the sky. Everyone around her is waving and yelling goodbye – the din only grows louder when Chiron pronounces this year’s exchange the most successful one ever.

And then, one by one, her fellow Greeks begin to leave. Piper gives Jason a quick kiss before running to join her siblings, and after a while, even Jason clasps her shoulder before breaking away.

Annabeth waits by Thalia’s Pine alone, watching as Blackjack’s tiny figure fades into the clouds. She doesn’t want to turn back and walk past the Romans’ empty quarters. She doesn’t want to go back to Bunker Three all alone. She doesn’t want to spar with anyone who isn’t Percy.

She wonders if he misses her already, because she definitely misses him. She wonders if he’s looking at her, too, from the sky, unable to tear his gaze away from her lonely silhouette.

She wonders when her chest will stop aching.

She wonders when she’ll see him again.

・・・・・

・・・・・