Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Annabeth had never meant to befriend the only person she knew whose life had an expiration date. 

It was honestly an accident. She had wanted to prove herself. That’s all any demigod at camp ever wanted to do. She wanted to prove that she was able to go on a quest with a child of the Big Three and make it back, not only alive but victorious. She needed to prove herself, to Chiron and to her mother.

She needed to prove herself to Luke .

It hadn’t mattered, anyways. Luke was gone long before they made it back to Camp Half-Blood. She didn’t know back then that he would turn into something so sinister that she could barely recognize him. There was really no separation between what was still good and what was now evil, the darkness had taken root inside of him and had hold over any humanity he had left. 

She was hopeless, the realization finally setting in that the Luke she knew was gone.

But then she saw something, something that seemed so incredibly ridiculous, but for some reason, she just couldn’t let it go. She saw his eyes. When they flickered from a deep golden back to the vibrant blue she was oh-so-familiar with, something shifted in her. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a lost cause, another demigod who had gone off the rails and took a trip to the other side. But when his eyes faded back to gold, she knew something else was living where Luke used to. 

Percy made sure to remind her of this. Every single day almost, whenever she would bring up his name during council meetings. He was still in there, somewhere, and they had to save him. 

“I saw his eyes,” She said as calmly as she could manage, a raging fire bubbling in her as she looked across the ping-pong table at her friends. Chiron had gathered the councilors, knowing that they couldn’t waste any more time mourning over who they had lost.

“They flickered, right when the mortal girl hit him. He’s still in there. Maybe we could try--”

“Try what, Annabeth?” Percy nearly shouted at her. This has been one of the many topics they’ve argued over in the days since the battle. Ever since they had burned the shrouds of the fallen campers, Percy’s been acting differently. She tried to brush it off, knowing that everyone’s been on edge since monsters had popped right out of the Labyrinth and into their camp. Knowing that the only place that had ever been deemed safe for demigods was now the site of a battleground pushed even her over the edge, this being one of the first times that she was stuck in a fight without a plan of action. But she can’t just brush off how cold he is to her whenever she mentions Luke’s name.

 “He’s been gone for over a year and a half. If he wanted to come back then he wouldn’t have surrendered himself to Kronos!” The other kids at the table sucked in a sharp breath. 

Names are powerful, and Percy Jackson had never really learned that lesson.

Annabeth was quiet. She wanted to tell them that he had seen her in San Francisco, that he wanted them to leave together, that he wasn’t a bad person, just a kid who made a bad choice. But she bit her tongue, blood flushing at the sight. She swallowed down the coppery-tasting substance with a grimace. 

“You don’t know that,” she said calmly, holding herself back from making a scene. “He could’ve been forced or manipulated,” She looks around the table, and she sees a few nodding heads: Connor, Travis, and Silena. 

Clarisse scoffed at the notion. “Traitor,” the Ares child muttered under her breath. Annabeth chose to ignore it, facing Percy once again. He’s still sitting, but his fists are clenched tight, his knuckles white against the table. He looked mad, and she swears that she saw the force of the sea raging in his eyes. She doesn’t let it intimidate her. Instead, she holds her ground.

The air shifted, blanketing the room in noticeably uncomfortable silence. The energy was buzzing, and she knew every single person at this table had something to say. They were either too afraid to say it or didn’t know what they could say, as Percy and Annabeth weren’t letting them get a word in edgewise. They stayed quiet, though. With the expression on Percy’s face surely being a reflection of her own, all of them knew better than to interrupt the calm before the storm.

“He’s the same person who stole the Master Bolt, who tried to kill me in the Underworld. He let monsters kidnap you and forced you to hold up the sky, knowing that it could kill you.” He looked straight at the strip of gray that had almost faded from her hair as he stood up, his voice rising dangerously. “How are you still defending him?”

“Because he’s family!” She shouted, standing up as well, gripping the wooden table so hard, she was sure her fingernails would cause indentations. She felt the tears brewing behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. She faintly heard the sound of the taps turning on in the bathroom across the hall and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“He left you, Annabeth!” Percy’s hand slaps the table as the sound of the pipes creaking intensifies. “Some family you got, there,” he says, venom dripping from his voice and he sits back in his chair, running a hand over his hair.

That’s the final straw for Annabeth. She lunges across the table, nearly knocking it over in the process. Percy scoots his chair back and stands up, backing away in shock as the room erupts in yelling. She tries to get to him but she feels hands forming a cage around her body, holding her back. She kicks as the person picks her up and backs them away from the table and away from Percy.

“That’s enough!” Chiron yells. His voice was enough to snap Annabeth out of her fit of rage. She relaxes and looks back to see who has been holding her back. Connor flashes her a sad smile, not taking his arm off her waist.

Both of the Stoll’s were on her side of the room, as well as Silena, Beckendorf, and her brother, Malcolm. Clarisse had backed up beside Chiron, but everyone else seemed to be settled on Percy’s side of the room.

“Everyone, go back to your cabins. This meeting is over,” Chiron announced. When no one moved, still shocked by the turn of events, he stomped one of his hooves. “Now!”

She looks back across the room, seeing Percy just looking at her. She couldn’t read what his emotions were at the moment, which was rare. They both always seemed to know what the other was thinking before they said it. The same couldn’t be said for right now, as sea green eyes meet steely gray. He looked at her a moment longer and clenched his jaw, storming out of the room.

Connor was still beside her as she watched her other friends leave, and he removed his arm from her waist, instead placing it between her shoulder blades, guiding her out of the room. She didn’t look at Chiron when she left, but she felt his stare of disappointment in the back of her head.

Once she and Connor reached the porch, she stopped, breathing in the cool night air. She looked out at her friends flocking back to their respective cabins but saw one figure moving towards the beach. Percy.

“I can walk you back if you want…” Connor’s voice trailed off, unsure of himself.

Annabeth nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak. Hot, angry tears threatened to spill as they made their way down the steps of the Big House. The silence between them was deafening, and she squeezed her eyelids tight. She didn’t even know why she was crying. It was just a fight for God’s sake. She didn’t understand how one person could make her so angry that she couldn’t even think clearly. 

“I don’t know what came over me, I…” Annabeth’s voice trailed off for a moment, her voice shaking as she broke through the quiet of the night.

“He’s been all over Luke ever since the battle happened-- which I get it, Luke has done some pretty fucked up things-- but every time I try to tell him that what I saw was real he shuts it down.” She threw her hands up and looked at Connor.

“He trusted the mortal to lead him through that death trap of a maze before he believed me when I told him that Luke was still in there.” He nodded, listening as they continued to walk.

“I get it,” Connor said, breaking his silence. “He’s my brother, I mean, of course, I get it. And I believe you,” He said, kicking a stray rock on the ground.

“You do?” She says, a glimmer of hope flashing behind her eyes. The rock rolls ten steps ahead as he looks back at her.

“Of course I do,” Connor replies. “Travis and Silena think so too. Maybe even Beckendorf.”

She became a bit more hopeful at the reassurance she was getting. 

“Look, I know some of the others aren’t gonna budge, but we can figure out a way to help him when the time comes.” The rock rolls out of reach, and he finds a new one to toss around. Her mind drifts to Pollux and Micheal, both had lost a brother in the battle, and another tear falls out.

There’s a pause, and as the humid air races across their skin, Annabeth looks up.

“I feel bad, y’know?” She sniffles softly, trying to hold back the water behind her eyes.

“Trying to tell them that the person who just killed their family isn’t actually the bad guy.” The rock lands in front of her, and she gives it a half-hearted kick. 

“But, he’s my family too.” She thinks of Thalia, who joined the Hunters, leaving her behind. And Percy, the last few lines of the prophecy that he still knows almost nothing about haunting her. She knows that in a year she’ll have to say goodbye.

“I can’t lose any more family,” she admits, and that's when the tears fall. All at once, Connor pulls her into his chest, running one hand through her hair as the other holds her tightly to him. She cries for the first time since the maze, salty tears carving their way out of her face and onto Connor’s orange shirt.

He understands, Annabeth thinks as Conner pulls her tighter into their embrace. As he tangles his fingers softly into her curls, she can’t help but wonder how he feels about all of this. It seems like everyone knows about this “great” prophecy except for Percy himself. Conner and Annabeth both know that just two days ago was the beginning of a war whose body count will be more than anyone inside Camp Half-Blood can imagine, and the person who has the power to stop it won’t make it past his sixteenth birthday.

She doesn’t know how long they stood there, her crying into his shirt, him stroking her back in the dim light of the crescent moon, but her sobs eventually fade into quiet whimpers and deep, labored breaths. She pulls away from him, her eyes red and puffy and her throat dry as sandpaper. She sees the wet spot she left on his camp shirt and red tinges on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said, motioning to the damp spot she left behind.

“It’s no problem,” he said, reaching out to swipe a stray tear from her cheek. His face flushes and he awkwardly puts his hand back down by his side.

She wants to ask if he’s okay. His earlier admission of guilt about Luke struck her in a way she didn’t think could happen. In all of her self-loathing and grief, she never once stopped to realize that Luke was his family too.

It’s on the tip of her tongue, and she’s just about to say something to break the tension before Conner wipes his hands on his shorts and finds another rock to kick.

“We should go to bed. It’s late, and you look like you’ve had a long day.” 

Too late. 

She nods her head in response, wiping her tear-stained face with the end of her shirt. He reaches out, offering his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her with him. Letting go, she rubs her eyes one more time and they walk in a comfortable silence back to the cabins, the only sound to be heard is the rock clattering back and forth across dirt paths.

They reach Cabin 11 first, and she pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispers into his ear. Connor swooped his arms around her waist and held her for a minute. He pulls away and gives her a toothy grin.

“Goodnight, Annabeth.”

He bounces up the steps of the cabin quietly, giving her one last smile before slipping behind the door.

As she makes her way to Cabin 6, she wishes that she could take a moment to look at the stars, brightly shining down onto Long Island Sound. That’s probably one of the things she had missed most while she was in San Francisco; the stars that held a fallen warrior, one of the earlier casualties of the war. She didn’t have time to explore that thought further though. Harpies would be around at any minute now.

She was lucky, it seemed because she had slipped back in without anyone noticing her. It wasn’t unusual to find one of her siblings burning the midnight oil, cramming information from a book into their heads, or working on a project, but tonight everyone seemed to be asleep. She slipped off her shoes beside her bunk, neatly placing them next to her spare pair. 

She didn’t have the energy to change and rolled into bed still in her denim shorts. She thinks she might regret that decision in the morning. It felt wrong to her that her mind wasn’t running at a mile a minute. Tripping over her thoughts felt more normal than what she was feeling right now. Her mind was blank, and staring at the gaps between wooden slats above her bunk bed had never seemed more interesting. 

There was a window cracked that let in the faint sounds of bugs chirping and waves crashing. She willed herself to stay in this neutral state, but the ocean only ever made her think of him. 

As she stared at the top of her bed, she wondered if Percy was still on the beach.

Chapter Text

It’s always hot in Long Island this time of year, but today had to be record-breaking.

Percy woke up in a layer of sweat with his sheets kicked to the end of his bed. Soft light filtered in through the windows, letting him know it was morning. He reluctantly leaned up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, bare feet touching the slightly cold floor. The only sounds that could be heard from inside the Poseidon Cabin were the large fountain (a gift from his father), and a few of the early risers starting on their pre-breakfast chores.

He dropped his head into his hands and let out a frustrated sigh. Going to bed angry was never good, he knew this better than anyone. He’s honestly surprised that he was able to make it through the whole night without waking up from some terrible dream. Instead, he was met with complete darkness, which is an unexpected change for a child of the Big Three.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he leaned over to check the time. The dark, blocky letters on his alarm clock read 7:23 AM. He figured there was still enough time to roll back into his bed.

He had hoped this could be a peaceful morning, filled with all the easy-going sounds that reminded him of when he first landed himself at camp. He wanted for just a moment to forget that his world was crashing down around him. Unfortunately for him, peace didn’t come easy, and he was finding it hard to think of anything but the events from the night before.

He knew why Annabeth was so angry, so defensive, but he couldn’t understand.

It’s never been in her nature to forgive so easily, he knew she could hold a grudge like no other. So how can she still believe that there’s hope left for him after everything that has happened? At first, he was able to overlook how she defended Luke at every turn; he even believed her when she said that he could be persuaded back onto the right side of the war. But now? After he orchestrated an attack that killed his friends, his family?

How can Annabeth be okay with saving someone responsible for so much destruction?

Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, Percy managed to rid himself of the sticky layer of sweat that had clung to him in the heat of the night. Changing into the mandatory orange shirt, an older variation that he’s probably had since he arrived at Camp Half-Blood. He was lucky he didn’t waste too much time, because exactly two minutes before eight, he arrived at the dining pavilion.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked around, most of the cabins were already seated, with the exception of the Hermes and Apollo cabins. Seeing the faces of his friends put him in a better mood until he saw Pollux sitting alone.

His blood boiled, heat rising within him while thinking about the loss the camp faced only a few days ago. He put his head down, walking past and sitting at his table, alone, much like Pollux. Except Percy didn’t lose his brother. His brother was safe, making swords or shields in a protected forge in his father’s realm. He thinks of Mr. D, and how he must feel knowing he couldn’t protect his son from the destruction Kronos’s forces brought inside of the barrier.

Percy is ripped from his thoughts as Chiron stands, watching the last of the Hermes children filter into the pavilion.

Sitting alone, he stares at his empty plate, listening vaguely to Chiron drone on about this week's game Capture the Flag. He makes it clear that Zeus’s fist, where the ground had parted to reveal the Labyrinth, is strictly off-limits during this game.

Percy shakes his head. as if anyone would want to go near it after what’s happened.

“All other camp activities are still postponed until further notice, but training regularly is encouraged,” Chiron says.

The rest of the announcements are short, something about a Senior Council meeting this Friday, and reminders to not be outside of Cabin’s after hours. Percy waits until he’s done, and then finally he’s able to eat.

Breakfast has been an uneventful affair for the past couple of days. Usually, the pavilion is bustling with loud chatter and minor fights (courtesy of the children of Hermes), but today everything seemed too quiet. The occasional voice would rise above the scattered whispers, but it seemed that no one felt like things should just go back to normal.

After all, it was only yesterday that the shrouds of fellow campers, friends, and siblings were burned in remembrance.

Percy couldn’t help but feel that this was his fault. What good was he as a child of the Big Three if he couldn't even protect his friends from inside of one of the only secure places for demigods?

He let his food get cold, scraping across the side of the plate and twisting his fork to busy himself. He noticed campers starting to filter out a few at a time. He noticed that they all left in pairs of two or groups of three, never walking back to the cabins by themselves.

He looked straight ahead and saw her. Annabeth. He stared for longer than he should and noticed that today her hair was in braids instead of being pulled back completely. She wore the same look as the other campers, a hard, solemn expression that sent chills down his spine. She looked sad, but even worse she looked angry.

He didn’t understand how much she had changed over the course of a few days. When they were stuck in the Labyrinth, she seemed as if she would do anything to stop Kronos from rising. But now that Luke was more deeply involved, something had switched in her. Percy knew that he would kill him if given the chance, in fact, that’s all he could really seem to think about in the aftermath of the battle. But Annabeth? Something inside him knew she couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t do it.

He realizes that his gaze has been stuck on her for too long and quickly turns away. Grabbing his plate, he trots up to the offering table and scrapes his untouched food into the flames.

“For my Father,” he muttered under his breath.

The walk back to his Cabin felt longer than it should have been, with the Sun’s rays beating down on his back, the blistering heat being almost too much for his body to handle.

Once again, he was left alone to deal with his thoughts, which couldn’t be farther from peaceful. He didn’t know what he would do for the rest of the day, but Chiron’s voice still rang in his head. Training was encouraged, but hardly anyone had stepped foot into the arena since the battle. Only the hot-headed children of Ares could be seen blowing off steam, either whacking off the heads of straw dummies or battling one another.

He pushed his hands in his pockets as he walked, instinctively clutching Riptide. He hadn’t used his sword since the battle, but something inside him was itching for a fight. He kept walking, his anxious hands fiddling with the pen in his pocket. His thoughts were running marathons around his head, feelings and “what ifs” bouncing off each other over and over again. He had no idea where he was even going until he found himself in front of the nearly empty training arena.

He didn’t know if this would be a good idea. He felt too angry to start hitting something. Even if it’s just a straw dummy, something told him that if he started hitting something, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Percy shook the thoughts away from his mind and pulled the pen from his pocket, making his way to the center of the arena. There weren’t many people there, not fighting anyway. Most of the campers were off to the sides, weapons in hand but not using them. He saw a few Apollo children talking amongst themselves with shields and chest plates on the ground beside them, and others were sorting through the armor inventory. He spotted Clarisse and her siblings farther away, fighting hand-to-hand in the back of the arena. He found a suitable dummy in the middle and uncapped Riptide.

The celestial bronze seemed to shine brighter in the summer sun, and he took a deep breath before slamming his sword into the side of the dummy. His attacks were simple, but offensive in nature, pushing himself to make each strike count with as much damage as possible. He practiced some defense maneuvers, ducking and rolling as if he were in battle. But his head wasn’t completely in the game.

As much as he wished that the routine of it all would lull his mind, he found himself back where he was earlier in the morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about Luke. If he was honest, he felt just as upset and betrayed as anyone by Luke’s allegiance to Kronos. He couldn’t think like that though. This was war, and in war, he had to see things the way they were. No personal attachments could get in the way if they wanted the slightest chance of winning against the Titan Lord. So instead of mourning, he reminded himself of why Luke defected in the first place.

He thinks of his first quest, how Luke had been a traitor for the entire time Percy had known him. Stealing the Master Bolt and sending him on a quest that almost killed him in a hundred different ways, then actually attempting to kill him when he got back. Seeing Annabeth become a completely different person once Luke left, and even wishing that in a perfect world, he would still be standing there with her.

Percy strikes the dummy’s middle with the hilt of his blade twice, the force knocking straw out of the previous slices he made. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the events of last winter. When he saw Annabeth fall off the cliff it felt like he was 12 years old again, watching his mother disappear into golden ash. The helplessness he felt trying to make it to the Underworld was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He thinks that trying to find Annabeth might have been worse. He continues his attacks, and he can feel his face turning red from the heat, or maybe it was rage. He remembers when he found her, holding up the sky. He shutters at the thought and his attacks become more brutal. He remembers that Luke was the one who put her there, he knows that he’s the reason she was in that mess in the first place.

Percy thinks of the night before, staring at the gray streak that stood out against the rest of her curls, one that matched his own. He couldn’t help but be angry at her for trying to save Luke. He didn’t want to be saved.

His mind continued to race back and forth, between Luke and the battle, the war and his dead friends. Everything was all too much. He felt a familiar pull inside his stomach as he fought, which only encouraged him more. He didn’t even know what he was slashing at, but before he knew it he was bringing Riptide up to slice the dummy’s head clean off. Straw floated to the ground and Percy stepped back. He was drenched in his own sweat, his clothes now noticeably sticking to his skin awkwardly. Out of breath, he swung his sword around and put his hands on his head in an attempt to calm the energy that was still pent up inside him. When he looked up from the straw remains, everyone seemed to be looking at him. He realized that the faint sound of water could be heard nearby. Shit, he thought. Maybe he had gone a little overboard. Before he could do anything, a voice emerged from behind him.

“Hey, Prissy.” He turned around and was greeted by Clarisse and her army of three, all children of the God of War. He couldn’t deal with her today, not after the way last night’s meeting went.

“I deal with your shit today, Clarisse,” he replied quickly

“Isn’t there any other poor soul you could grace with your presence?” He said sarcastically. That only earned him an eye roll, while Clarisse’s siblings stared daggers at him.

She raised her hands in mock defense. “I only wanted to ask a question.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

“Capture the Flag is on Sunday,” she said.

“And…?” Percy responds, wishing she would get to the point. His exertion high still hadn’t faded, and the urge to fight the closest person to him was only growing stronger.

“And…” she mocks. “Ares and Athena Cabins are leading. I assume you and Annabeth are on the outs?” He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He honestly hadn’t even given Capture the Flag a second thought, but now that he is…

‘I’ll take the silence as a “no” then,” said Clarisse.

“Are you gonna get to the point?” Percy asks, his voice coming out calmer than expected.

“We want you on our team this time,” she said bluntly. He’s sure his face was a mixture of shock and surprise. Ever since he had been at camp, he was always on Annabeth’s team for war games. Sure they had fought before, but it was kind of an unspoken rule between the two that he would be by her side as soon as Chiron announced the start of the games.

Maybe this time was different. He contemplated the idea in his head. It might be good for the two of them to play on opposite sides for once, a good training strategy. Space might be the thing they needed to process everything going on at the moment. He paused as he ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath.

“Okay,” he said

“Okay?” Clarisse parroted the question. Did she think it would be harder to get him to agree?

“Yeah, okay,’ Percy replied.

Clarisse gave a frightening grin as she looked back at her siblings. “We’ll talk strategy tomorrow,” she said, and with that, she and her mini-army made their way out of the arena.

He could still hear water running, presumably from a busted fountain pipe by the cabins. Capping Riptide, he dredged himself away from the still-piercing eyes of the stray campers who witnessed his attack on an inanimate object. He knew that there wasn’t anything he could do on his own to fix what he had broken. Leaving the arena, he made his way to the Big House to tell Chiron that he may or may not have just made some pipes explode… again.

He knew he had been lucky last night, being graced with the darkness that doesn’t usually come with demigod dreams. Tonight, however, his dreams were different, and no ominous monsters appeared to give vague yet menacing threats. Instead, he dreamt of his last quests, all of the failures and losses he had experienced in just 3 short years. To say it was a nightmare would be an understatement. Luckily he woke before having to relive Mount Othrys, when three sharp knocks sounded from his cabin door.

He rolled over and groaned. He didn’t have to check the clock to know that it was early, too early. Three more knocks sounded as he pulled the sheets over his head, turning back onto his side in an attempt to ignore the early morning intruder.

“Percy,” he heard a faint, garbled voice from outside. He sat up with another groan in protest. Getting out of bed, he makes his way to the door, wiping sleep from his eyes, not bothering to get ready before answering the door.

He swings the door open to find Annabeth standing on the porch of his cabin, two clipboards in hand, ready for the day. He totally regrets his decision to not at least look presentable now.
“Uh, hello?” He says, his words coming out like more of a question than a greeting.

Annabeth says nothing back for a moment, staring at him with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read for a moment before saying, “Do you know what time it is?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, his brain groggy and confused at why Annabeth is at his door at basically the crack of dawn when he thought they weren’t speaking.

“Chores? Cabin inspection?” She says, and he almost couldn’t believe that he had let that slip his mind. They were paired for daily cabin inspection today. And tomorrow, and the next day. She keeps looking at him, but she doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re not wearing a shirt.” His cheeks immediately redden and his arms try to cover up as much as he can.

“Yeah, right, sorry. I forgot..” Percy’s voice trails off, and he realizes now why she had been staring at him like that.

“Obviously,” she shoves a clipboard in his hands. “Get dressed, we’re already behind schedule.”

With that he shuts the door, mentally banging his head against the wall.

When he returned, he found Annabeth right where he had left her, literally tapping her foot and drumming her fingers atop the clipboard. She looks up as he shuts the door, and he’s somehow acutely aware of the way his hair is still sticking up in odd places and how there’s probably drool dried to the side of his face. Without saying a word, Annabeth bounces down the steps and heads toward the other cabins.

He scrambles to catch up with her, jogging until they’re side by side on the dirt path. He wonders if he should speak to her. The tension between them was palpable and he feared acting like nothing happened would only make things worse. He tossed the idea around in his mind, trying to settle on what he could even say. The anger from the fight was still there, and though time had helped Percy understand that his anger was misdirected, he didn’t have it in himself to settle on Annabeth being right just for the sake of making up. They needed to talk.

As they walked in silence to the doors of the Aphrodite cabin he decided now was as good a time as ever.

“So,” he started, his voice shaky with nerves. The fact that he’d just woken up didn’t help either.

“About the other night—“ He wasn’t able to finish his half-concocted thought before Annabeth interrupted him.

“I do not want to talk about this right now. I’m perfectly fine with silence.” Her words were sharp and seemed to have intentionally struck him with hurt. If he’s being honest, it took him by surprise to see her be so short with him. Whatever game she was playing, he was not having it.

“Yeah, but we probably should talk about it.” They walked up to the light pink door and came to a halt. Annabeth’s hand came up to knock three times before replacing it in her clipboard.

“I mean, you tried to physically fight me back there, so I think it’s worth talking abo—“ He was interrupted once again, this time by Silena Beauregard opening the door to her cabin.

“Hi Annabeth, come in!” Silena was one of the only people he knew who could be happy about being awake before 8 in the morning. They walked through the door and he wondered if the Aphrodite children could sense the tension as well.

“Morning, Percy,” Silena said, replacing his spot in the doorway as he and Annabeth made their way around the room. There were only a few kids scattered about the cabin, he assumed the rest were already at the dining hall. He listened as Silena and Annabeth made small talk, noticing how the cold tone of her voice shifted to a more relaxing one in Silena’s presence.

Absentmindedly checking off boxes, he didn’t move from his position once to actually inspect the cabin. Usually, he gave every cabin perfect marks and went on with his day. Annabeth on the other hand was thorough, checking if beds were made and if clothes were put up properly. She looked up from her clipboard and seemed satisfied with the state of the cabin, and walked back towards the door.

They bid their goodbyes to Silena, and as they started again on the path he pushed past the silence Annabeth was trying so hard to hold on to.

“Can you at least talk to me?” He couldn’t help but notice the pleading tone in his voice. Annabeth just shook her and looked down at the papers in her hand again.

“I really don’t want to have this conversation right now, Percy.” She sounded exhausted, and he couldn’t tell if it was him or the stress that was getting to her more.

“Well, I do, Annabeth. If we can’t agree with each other the least we could do is try to understand.”

“We have 5 more cabins to do in less than half an hour, now is not the time for this.” She snapped.

“Then when is? You can’t just ignore me to make this go away.” She didn’t respond, she just kept walking with her eyes straight ahead.

Percy knew he should stop pushing at this point. He understood now that bringing this up would only make things worse. But something told him to keep pushing it, to keep pushing her. Somewhere inside of him wanted to make her mad, wanted her to blow up the way she did in the Big House. At least then he would know she was being honest with her words, instead of dodging every question he wanted to ask. So that’s what he did.

“You try to fight me and defend him all in one night? Where’s the loyalty in that?”

That earned a laugh from her, and as she kept walking she said, “You really wanna talk about loyalty?”

He was confused, and he’s sure his face showed it because Annabeth began to clarify.

“You switched teams for Capture the Flag, you’re always on our team. You can’t tell me you’re not doing this out of spite.”

Percy rolled his eyes as he said “Oh my Gods, you can’t be serious, right?”

She finally met his eyes, and that was all the answer he needed.

“It’s a fucking game, Annabeth. You’re defending the biggest demigod traitor and you have the nerve to say I’m not being loyal?” He knew he was being cruel, but the fire that had been in him the past few days was back and he couldn’t stop to think clearly through his anger.

“That’s exactly what I said, and it’s not ‘just a fucking game’. This is why I didn’t want to talk about this right now.” Her pace quickened, and he could tell she was holding back on him.

“It is ‘just a game’, and we definitely have bigger issues to deal with than you being mad about Capture the Flag,” he said, his voice rising.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Well, you’re not acting like you do. You’re being childish.”

Annabeth stopped in her tracks, and he knew he had struck a nerve. Her fist was clenched in a ball by her side. Without saying a word, she ripped the clipboard out of his hand and marched off.
“Annabeth, wait!” He said, regret dripping from his words. It was no use though, and he let her go.

He realized now that he had let his anger get the better of him. Starting a fight just for the fun of it was not like him, and with Annabeth? He didn’t think he’d ever tried so hard to make Annabeth so mad. There wasn’t any good reason for it either.

Percy ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. How could they be fighting like this when only a few weeks ago she had kissed him? He thought about it for a quick moment, but he didn’t explore the thought any further.

Instead, he racked his brain for any answer he could find as to why he was acting like this. He could chalk it up to stress and even the loss the camp had just faced less than a week ago. The answer he settles on leaves him feeling just as sad. He had only wanted her to talk to him. To listen to him the way she used to when nothing big was happening. He missed the intermittent conversations they would have during meal times, by the campfire, or while they did their morning chores. He missed when things between them were normal.

He missed his best friend.