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If I Were A Blackbird, part 16 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Did you make it back okay? You didn’t text 🙁

[read, 10:47am]

????

Sorry got back kind of late Got lost in exarchia lol

Isn’t exarchia dangerous? Are you ok?

Nah it was np Ive seen worse at santa con

Everything good with you?

Whatever hans needed you for last night

Oh yeah it was fine Turned out to be a nothingburger Im sorry i ruined our date

Its fine

…

Hey i just checked with my car service and they said you didn’t call them last night?

Yeah i just caught a taxi Only out a few euro

…

When are you free next week? I wanna make it up to you

Its rly fine

Ok well i want to see you Before coach peterson traps you in the boathouse and wont let you leave

Lol What are you doing thursday?

Breakfast with the finns then 10 hours of teams meetings Does saturday work?

Practice

🙁

What abt sunday morning? We’d have to be done by 2

I can do sunday!! How do you feel about dawn?

—

A risky proposition–for her, not for him. Percy had no trouble waking up early, while Annabeth more than lived up to her night owl reputation.

But she had to make it up to him. She had to give him something spectacular.

Percy had clearly been so hurt the other night when she’d made him leave. And he had every right to be. She wanted him to be her partner, in all things. Even though that didn’t mean he could join her in fighting a dracena or a draugr or some other dangerous creature, it did mean he should be able to know about what was going on. Know about every aspect of her life. And even though the other night had not ended up being such a big issue, there had been dozens of monster fights over the last four years where all she wanted when it was over was to curl up with Percy and tell him what was really going on. Seek his comfort and support.

Percy Jackson was a world class cuddler. They should give him a gold medal for that.

She had known for a long time she needed to come clean. She needed to tell him everything. But this moment was really the line. It was creating divisions she didn’t like, that he didn’t deserve. And she wanted to share everything with him. Seek his advice and comfort and love as she navigated the challenges of being a demigod.

So, she had to stop pushing him away. It wasn’t fair. Percy had supported her 100% in all things since they first got together–the hecticness of royal life, her own demigod and ADHD flightiness, even her Harvard family pride.

He deserved better.

It steeled her resolve.

She had planned the event to a T, stocked up on Greek coffee, and called in an enormous favor with the Ministry of Culture to organize a private tour of the Parthenon for the two of them, just after dawn. The sacred hill, usually overrun with tourists, would be, for once, deserted, and they would have the place wholly to themselves. They’d get to walk the ruins together, alone, get to look out at the sun rising over the sea he sailed on, and then she would take his hand, and she would finally tell him everything. Let him into the most secret parts of her life.

The only hard bit had been figuring out what to wear. She wasn’t sure if she’d brought anything for this trip that wasn’t blue. She’d packed one bag, and Helen had packed the big one for her, but she’d acquired so much blue over the last four years that most of her closet had ended up blue, too. But she wasn’t about to go on possibly the most important date of her life without having an outfit ready to go by morning.

Blue was the obvious choice, but was also possibly jinxed–she couldn’t remember the last time she had worn blue on a date with Percy without being attacked by a monster. White, again, had a ton of bridal baggage, and she didn’t want to pressure him into doing anything, not when she was about to drop a mythological bomb on him.

So. What to wear.

She had spent probably upwards of an hour, wrapped in her bathrobe and conditioning her hair, as she sat cross legged on the bed, agonizing over the final three options: an orange romper with a gold belt and stilettos, the two-piece lemon-printed outfit from a D&G collection a few years back with flats, or the purple sundress with raw edges and a pair of white sneakers.

When she laid it all out, it was kind of obvious. Her mother’s temple, where millions of tourists walked each year, was not really known for its crisp, even walkways. Or its non-slippery marble.

The dress, she decided. Not just for the shoes, but for the color, a surprisingly intense hue for such a casual fabric. Deep and dark, like wine spilled over the ocean. Very Homeric. Hopefully he’d like it.

She bounced her sneakers against the interior car door, probably scuffing the leather and pissing Hans off to no end, as she waited for Percy to come out of the Village. That was the problem with white. Easy to ruin. She chanced another look out the window, and sat up at the hooded figure who came out, and made a beeline straight for the car. Without hesitation, he slid in beside her, taking down his jacket hood, revealing wet hair and tired eyes that still lit up at the sight of her. “Morning,” he said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Hans.”

“Sir.”

“Hey,” she said. “You sleep okay?”

“Slept alright, yeah.”

Annabeth frowned. “You look tired.”

“Yeah, well,” Percy shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.” He continued before Annabeth could say anything. “I was hoping practice would tire me out, but… Probably going to need a nap after this.”

“My hotel bed misses you,” she told him, and then only cringed a little bit as the full dorkiness of the words came to her. “You could always come back with me. You know. If you wanted.”

He paused, then twisted his mouth in that way she knew meant he was trying not to laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t know if I’ll make it through this car ride.”

Well, she could help with that. “Way ahead of you there,” she said, reaching for the drink caddies. “Coffee?”

Successfully caffeinated, they enjoyed an easy, peaceful drive to the west entrance of the site. At this hour, the roads were largely clear, devoid of most traffic beyond a handful of delivery guys on bikes, or the odd clump of construction workers taking advantage of the time. It was still dark enough that the street lights were still on, the car passing beneath beautiful arches of string lights in the colors of the Olympic Rings as they rounded the corner of the National Gardens. In the distance, just barely over the tips of the buildings, she could see glimpses of the Acropolis, its columns lit up with yellow floodlights, like artificial fire.

Percy huffed a laugh as they passed the Arch of Hadrian and the Temple of Olympian Zeus, resting his head against the window.

“What is it?”

He shot her a sideways glance. “It’s nothing. Just, ah… it’s nothing.”

She frowned at the deflection. But instead of dwelling on it too much, she took his hand. “I’m really glad you came this morning,” she said, quietly.

Smiling, he squeezed her hand in return. “Hey, me, too. I’m always happy to see you.”

“And I’m sorry about the other night.”

“Seriously, you don’t–”

“I do,” she interrupted, lacing their fingers together. “You’ve put up with so much crap from me and my family and my country these last four years, and I haven’t…” She trailed off, the words drying up in her mouth.

Percy shifted, turning towards her. “Haven’t what?”

Been honest? Told him everything? Gods, what did she even say to that? Every other person she had ever been close to had already known the great secret. Annabeth couldn’t even remember if she had ever been told explicitly the truth of her birth and her heritage. It was just something she’d always known. Something she’d never had to question. Annabeth was a princess, her mother was a goddess, and her family was descended from another pantheon. These were the facts of her life. How was she supposed to tell him the truth?

How do you turn someone’s life upside down like this without driving them away?

For lack of anything to say, she squeezed his hand again, and brought it to her mouth. “I have something I need to tell you,” she mumbled into his fingers.

He only nodded, face solemn in a way it rarely was. “Me, too.”

She sat up, a new wave of anxiety breaking over her. “What is it?”

Taking in a deep breath, he moved his hand to her face, brushing his thumb against her cheekbone. She leaned into it, drank in the gentleness of his fingers, the quiet, deliberate touch of skin, and her heart couldn’t help but throb. “Annabeth,” he said, gathering his courage. “I… There’s…”

“Excuse me.”

They both jumped. Hans had rolled the car into park so smoothly, she hadn’t even noticed.

“Apologies, highness,” he said, not at all meaning it, “but we’ve arrived.”

And not a moment too soon. The sky above was just beginning to lighten, the shades of midnight just barely beginning to give way to gray and purple.

Hand in hand, they strode up the wide, cobbled pathway, their steps illuminated by the floodlights. If she ignored the hum of electricity, the distant sound of car horns, or the lack of stars above them, she could almost imagine that she and Percy were in ancient Athens, making a pilgrimage in the middle of the night to the sacred temple. Perhaps she would have been a priestess, and he a guard of the city, and they were coming in secret to make a supplication to the goddess, asking Athena to release her daughter from her vows so that they could marry without incurring her wrath.

The thought made her giddy, and she squeezed his hand, a new skip in her step.

“You’re chipper this morning,” he observed.

“Just happy to be with you.”

He smiled thinly, and didn’t say anything in response.

But she didn’t care. Her whole life was about to change–for the better. She didn’t have a care in the world.

The security guard, nursing a coffee of her own, let them in without a word. Hans trailed behind them, far enough away that they could speak privately, but close enough in case Annabeth needed some magical backup. She was lucky, she supposed. Her country’s affection for her family was high enough that mortal threats weren’t really a concern. But when they reached the base of the ramp which led to the Propylaia, Hans stopped in his tracks, waving her on. Trusting her alone with Percy.

She nodded at him, grateful. He turned away, pulling out a cigarette.

In silence, they continued on to the top of the hill, and Annabeth had never been more grateful for the choice to wear sneakers, giving her steady footing on the worn marble. Percy, however, wasn’t so lucky, one false step causing him to slip, teetering towards the edge of the switchbacked path.

“Whoa!”

Annabeth snatched him up around the waist, pulling him back towards a marble bench. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, shaky. “I’m fine.” He looked up at her, sheepish. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“This damn hill,” he grumbled. “I’ve been to the Acropolis, like, four times this summer, and I’ve tripped over something every single time.”

“Well, just be careful,” she said. “If you roll your ankle, I have to carry you out of here myself.”

“Not Hans?” he teased.

She shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you could.” A beat, and then he embraced her, so suddenly it almost knocked the wind out of her. He held her close, close enough that she could feel his ragged heartbeat, adrenaline sending it racing, and she shut her eyes, breathing in the ever-present sea salt smell of him. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair. “I love you so much.”

When he pulled back, she was shocked to see his eyes were red. “Percy?”

“I’m fine,” he said thickly, wiping his eyes. “Come on. Daylight’s wasting.”

Pink had begun to bleed into the sky, coloring the haze of the far off mountains, creeping ever closer to sunrise.

They made it through the gate without further incident, and even though Annabeth had seen the Parthenon hundreds of times, in person and online and in dreams, it still stopped her in her tracks. It was a magnificent building, of course, even with the scaffolding holding it together, and she couldn’t help but mentally run through the facts for the millionth time. Pentelic marble, peripteral Doric, perfect proportions. Fluted columns, ionic capitals, no base. Eight by seventeen, slight tapering to account for human perception. Once upon a time, it had been covered in color, a bright, shining beacon of civilization, a living record of war and conquest. The Giants, the Amazons, the Lapiths and the Centaurs, the sack of Troy and the victory over the Persians–the Parthenon was a monument to it all, and to the goddess who presided over them.

Now if only the British Museum would give back the damn statues.

“Let me guess,” Percy said. “You’re imagining what it would look like with all the marbles restored.”

She smiled, sheepishly. “You caught me. I have another meeting with the Prime Minister next month.”

“Fifth time’s the charm?”

“Here’s hoping.”

“You know, you’ve corrupted me,” he said. “Before I met you, a temple was just a temple. Now every time I see a Greek temple, I have to count the number of columns. The long side is always twice the number of the short side, plus one. I never noticed that before. Not until you showed me.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head. “What for? I never said it was a bad thing. Here.” He took both of her hands, and led her over to the Erechtheion, picking his way around the stones which jutted up from the grass. The pink sky was beginning to blossom into a fiery orange, streaked through with yellow, heralding the sun. “Like with the Erechtheion,” he said. “There’s so much I never noticed about this place before you–the irregular construction, the decorative elements, the whole…” he waved a hand at the stone, but never took his eyes off her. “All of it. Before you, it was just another old building.”

“A fucked-up old building?” she recalled, remembering a warm spring night on the Aegean, tangled up with her lover on a boat and under the stars.

He grinned, hopefully recalling the same. “The building of the mighty Poseidon,” he corrected. “I don’t think he’d be too happy to hear you call it that.”

She didn’t think he’d be too happy with her in general, given the whole rivalry thing, but whatever. “Meh,” she echoed. “I’m dating his favorite sailor. I think I’ll be okay.”

In the fading dark of sunrise, Annabeth saw his face fall. The gray shadow of the temple made him look ashen, pale. Afraid.

“What is it?”

He glanced at the temple, shoulders tight. “It’s cold,” he said, finally. “Come on. Let’s sit in the sun.”

The sun was just about to break over the horizon, but she wouldn’t push it.

Percy led her out of the shadow of the Erechtheion, towards the very eastern edge of the site. There, where there had once been a circular watchtower, now flew the flag of Greece, hanging limp in the stillness of dawn. She sat on the wall-bench of the observation point, back against the lip of the retaining wall, and tipped her head back. It was quiet. Seagulls cried in the very far distance. At some point, the floodlights had switched off automatically, leaving them suspended in time, colorless, hovering between tonight and tomorrow, between her past and their future.

But her future didn’t join her on the bench. He just stood there. Looking at her.

“Percy? What’s wrong?”

She could see his chest moving as he breathed, deep and measured. His mouth hung open, and she could almost see the wheels in his brain turning as he searched for what to say.

And then, warmth.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the sun had just breached the mountains, the yellow glare shielded by the looming shadow of Mt. Lycabettus, the tallest point of the city.

When she looked back, Percy had dropped to one knee.

She felt her breath catch. Felt the tears preemptively pool in her eyes. She was a princess. She was a demigoddess, a hero, a feminist, a–a shieldmaiden! She was not supposed to be the kind of woman for whom her engagement was the pinnacle of her entire life. But it was Percy, on his knee before, looking up at her with those green eyes. Looking like he belonged here, between the Athena and Poseidon shrines. She felt like she was in some sort of movie. Every perfect thing coming down to this moment.

“I was really glad you wanted us to come here,” Percy said, “I… this seemed a fitting place for me to tell you. To say maybe the most important thing I’ve ever said before.”

“A question?” She asked, even though she probably shouldn’t have.

He smiled, lopsided and trouble-making and so, so beautiful. “Could be,” he said, and her heart nearly skipped right out of her chest. “But first…” he looked around, wary, like he was expecting something to jump out.

Or someone.

“This is the place,” he said, after a moment of silence. His eyes were stormy–thrilling… and scary. “This is the place where Poseidon lost the contest of Athens to Athena.”

Despite herself, she felt her smile drop. It was a story she knew well, had grown up with it and been weaned on it, curled up in her father’s embrace as a little girl as he read to her from the big yellow book of Greek myths every night before she went to bed–but she didn’t know why it suddenly made the bottom of her stomach fall out.

And then, he said, “This is the spot where… where my father lost to Athena.”

His… “Your father?” The words sounded like they came from very far away. Her face felt numb.

“My father,” he repeated. “Poseidon. God of the sea.”

She must be confused, she must not be understanding. An unusual place for her to be, but not impossible. Annabeth was used to being the smartest person in any and all rooms she was in. And so it only took her a few seconds to really, properly process what she was being told. To take that information in and put it up against so much else she’d seen but not really noticed over the past four years.

“That explains so much,” she said. Her mind quickly flicked through the many details and strange little facts she’d collected, but never been able to fit together.

At least her brain was moving too fast for her to stop for a second and feel.

His eyebrows pulled together, that little pinch she always thought was adorable. “It does?”

She nodded, and didn’t meet his eyes. “There was a sea monster, wasn’t there? In Mérida, at the last Olympics. That’s why you lost your lead.”

He froze, down on one knee. “...Yeah. There was.”

“And that day, when we went out on the boat, you got my hat back, and dried it with water magic,” she continued. “Hans’ team spent a truly insane number of manhours trying to track down your father. But they never could. It was like he didn’t exist.”

“...What are you saying?”

“I don’t think anyone ever guessed you were a demigod,” she said. “Which was probably silly. Hans should have known better. And Dad.”

He stared at her, mouth open and gaping like a– “Annabeth?”

The tears finally spilled from her eyes. “Percy,” she said, not sure if she was crying from joy or sorrow. “My mother is Athena.”

***

Percy’s whole body went cold. The ring box was heavy in his jacket pocket, weighing him down like an albatross. “Athena?”

She nodded, hanging her head. “Yes. I’m a demigod, too.”

And suddenly, every little thing that had ever felt out of place snapped into a neat, logical, devastating line.

Her proficiency with weapons–not just the hobby of some rich girl, but an innate skill. Jokes from her whole family about following the “old ways” that always seemed to hedge a little too close to seriousness. A gaping black hole where her mother should be.

Just like him.

How hadn’t he seen it sooner?

Stunned, the next few words just slipped out. “I didn’t know Athena could have children.”

She snapped her red-rimmed eyes to him. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“What? No! I just–isn’t she a virgin goddess? How would that even, uh… work?”

“You’re a classics major,” she said, crossing her arms, hunching in on herself. He could practically see sparks of irritation flying off of her, filling the space she left empty. “I assume you’re familiar with the birth of Athena?”

“Sure,” he hedged, feeling suddenly unmoored. “She was born from Zeus’ head.”

Annabeth looked at him, pointedly.

So… she was born the same way? “But,” he stammered, his thoughts scattered across the sacred rock, “but… you have a belly button.”

Pretty much immediately, Percy knew that was the wrong thing to say.

“Yeah,” she said, stony. “What, were you expecting me to be some kind of freak?”

Okay. He was now and truly lost. “That’s not–”

She crossed her legs, cutting him off. “Well, I’m not. I have all my extremities. Just like you.”

“I… didn’t think you didn’t.” Because why would he? He had seen them all for himself. He had, ahem, explored all the nooks and crannies of her body, many times, had touched and kissed every extremity, every inch of skin… every inch of scar.

He had seen her scars. Had traced the lines of them, up and down. He hadn’t commented on them, because why would he? His own body was riddled with the same scars. Claw marks and magic burns and the odd sword swipe. They were normal for him.

They were normal for her, too.

Because they were the same.

So why did the thought suddenly fill him with dread?

“When,” he started, mouth dry, “when did you know?”

“My whole life. You?”

“I was six. Luke told me.” It had been a weird day, but one he could look back on fondly. But right now, he could barely remember it. All he could cling to was the one shining, defining difference between them–she had known about her parentage her whole life, and he had only been told about his later.

And then, he huffed a laugh, surprising himself.

She frowned. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just figures, is all.”

“What figures?”

“Figures that I had to have it spelled out for me while you had it handed to you on a silver platter.”

She rounded her jaw, eyes glistening in the morning light.

Fuck. This was not how he wanted this to go. “I–”

“Figures for you as well,” she cut in, avoiding his gaze. “Swimming, sailing, water polo–it all comes from your father.”

Anger, hot and spiky, lanced through him out of nowhere. “Are you saying I’m only good at what I do because of my dad?”

She snapped her eyes to him, taken aback by his tone. “No! Of course not!”

“Because if I wanted to coast on my genetics, I would have just gone with swimming,” he growled, surprising himself with his own vitriol. “Sailing is hard work. Keeping track of the winds, the waves, the sail, the physics–it’s hard work. And I picked it because I knew it would be hard work. Because I’ve had to work my entire life. Not that you would know anything–”

He cut himself off, standing, before he said something he really regretted.

Except the damage was already done.

Her hands tightened where they clutched her arms, the tips of her fingers digging into her skin. “I see,” she said, quietly. “So that’s what you really think of me.”

“No, it’s–” He sighed, hanging his head. Breathing in through his nose, he held his breath and counted to ten, before his anger got the best of him again.

When he looked back up, Annabeth’s eyes were fixed on the ground, her shoulders just barely trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of line. And it’s not true.” When she didn’t answer, he sat down next to her, gratified that she didn’t at least move away from him. “I’m really sorry.”

Stiffly, she nodded.

“It’s just… I’m sick and tired of being out of the loop. You don’t tell me you’re a princess, you make me leave for meetings–”

“That’s a national security thing–”

“Everything about you is a national security thing!” He burst out, losing his grip. “Everything you are is some kind of secret that I don’t get to know about, even after we’ve been dating for four years!”

“I’ve told you plenty,” she said, eyes welling up again. “I’ve told you about my dad, and my insecurities, and all my fears about me and my country–”

“But nothing about you being a demigod!”

Her face went red. “What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, stranger, not only is my dad a king, my mom is a Greek goddess, wanna fuck?’”

“No, I just–”

“You said I was entitled to my secrets,” she stood, pointing at him accusingly. “Just like you were entitled to yours. That was your promise.”

“Yeah, at the beginning of our relationship, not four years in when I’m about to propose to you!”

She froze, as still and imposing as marble. Percy’s heart had crawled up his throat, threatening to choke him, and in that moment, he was overcome with the sudden need to assert himself. To let her know how she had hurt him. To speak a truth that was even more painful.

“It’s like–it’s like I don’t even know you.”

In one swift instant, her tears dried up, evaporating in the heat of her anger. She glared down at him, imposing and impossible, her gray eyes cold and sure and beautiful, it took his breath away.

Of course she was beautiful. Her mother–Athena–had been in Paris’s contest, after all. If Lady Athena had even half of her daughter’s beauty, it was a fucking miracle that she had lost, Helen or no Helen.

Annabeth whipped around, her blonde curls flying in the sudden wind, making her way back towards the Propylaea.

But she turned back to look at him, once, at the far edge of the Erechtheion, her mother’s temple to her right, and his father’s to her left. The clear concrete pathway between them felt as wide as an ocean, and just as insurmountable.

Percy felt like the Athenians, thousands of years ago, worshiping their patroness. Worshipful and fearful and in love in equal measures.

Percy felt like his father, so thoroughly cowed, so beaten. Forever changed, forever brought down by this great and powerful woman. Brought low before her like so many men had been for millennia.

How did you ever get over someone like her?

He thought back to his father. And to King Frederick and a handful of awkward dinners with Princess Consort Mary.

On both counts, Percy was pretty sure, you never did.

He sat there where their parents' rivalry began–and was still going strong, even after all this time –for a long time, as the sun slowly crept up the sky, until the security guard from earlier came to get him. “Excuse me,” she said, not unkindly. Which was unexpected. In his experience, security guards, Greek or Swedish or otherwise, didn’t take too kindly to him. Maybe they knew something he didn’t. “We’re opening to the public soon.

Percy nodded and stood up. “Sorry.”

“Your friend left thirty minutes ago,” she said, not responding. And then, curiosity must have gotten the better of her. “So… what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Percy said, and he wasn’t. He really really wasn’t sure. The walk back down the hill didn’t clarify things, either.

A drink might. Or maybe a nap. Maybe he could go back to the Village, grab Jason and Frank and take them out for some midday drinks in Exarchia, take the edge off with some bro-time.

Halfway down to the city, he stopped to lean against a green metal grate. Just on the other side was a sign, in English and Greek, pointing the way to the Pnyx, the favored soapbox of great thinkers like Socrates.

He sighed, heavily.

Gods, he was so fucking sick and tired of classics.

They’d given him more than enough problems. And he wasn’t going to let classics ruin his life. Not over this.

In that moment, he made a decision. He wouldn’t go back to the Village and drown his sorrows.

Instead, he called in the cavalry, and asked them to meet him at the Tiki Bar around the corner of the Acropolis Museum. Because he was fucking sick and tired of classics.

“Weren’t you supposed to be having celebratory engagement sex right now?” Was Luke’s first question as he walked up to the bar where Percy had parked himself, a very bleary Nico and Hazel in tow. Honestly, Percy was surprised he had gotten the younger ones to even show up. The children of the Underworld fully lived up to their reputation as night people, and here they were, deigning to show their faces just after 8 AM.

Luke took one look at Percy’s face, and his own fell, instantly. “Kid? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Percy said, and it was true. He didn’t know what was wrong. And then he said, “Annabeth is a demigod.” That was true, but it wasn’t what was wrong. Why was that bad? It shouldn’t be bad.

As one, all three of their jaws dropped, eyes going wide. “What?” That was Hazel, now fully awake. “She’s a demigod?”

“That explains a lot,” said Nico, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “She had a real power vibe, but I thought maybe it was the monarch thing.”

Percy didn’t want to even try and dissect what that meant.

“She’s a daughter of Athena,” Percy said, but for the first time in about an hour, it didn’t feel like a terrible, horrible thing. In fact, it was almost a neutral observation. Possibly even edging towards something exciting.

Because Annabeth was a demigod–just like him. Another member of his extended family.

Hazel gasped. “But Minerva’s a virgin goddess,” she exclaimed, aghast at the very idea. “She’s not supposed to have children!”

“Annabeth kind of explained it,” Percy said, frowning at the memory. Brain children. It was still kind of a tough idea to wrap his head around. Even though she did have a belly button. “She’s born from Athena like Athena was born from Zeus. I think. I wasn’t paying great attention.”

“Seems like it should have been important–” But Nico’s snark was cut off by Luke cuffing his head.

“Percy,” Luke said, blue eyes staring at him. “What happened?”

“We had a fight,” he admitted, face flushing from shame. “I'm not even sure… I was just so surprised and kind of overwhelmed by the idea. and I think I kind of freaked out.” Understatement of the century. But then again… maybe she did, too. “I called her privileged and then she stormed off, and…”

“Did you two break up?”

He jolted, like he had been struck by lightning. Or perhaps a spear. Before that moment, the thought had never occurred to him. Athena or not, secrets or not, divine intervention, ancient rivalries, four years of lies or not, he didn't want to break up. Not ever. She was the love of his life.

“No,” he shook his head emphatically. “We didn't break up.” They had fought, sure, but there had been no resolution. And until she told him otherwise to his face, they were still together.

Hopefully forever.

“Do you want to break up?”

“Never.” He wanted to tell her Paris was a fool for not choosing her mother if Athena was half as beautiful as she was. He wanted to promise to fell sea monsters and the Minotaur itself for her sake. He wanted to return to the Garden at the very edge of the day, and bring her a golden apple taken from beneath the sleeping dragon’s nose. He wanted to sit in her little apartment in the palace in Stockholm and rub her feet and tell her all about his adventures and ask her about hers, and talk about where Norse monsters ranked on the scale of divine irritation.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Sometimes Nico's bluntness was too much for him, but right now he appreciated the direction.

“I don't know. I was hoping you guys might have some ideas.”

The cousins glanced between each other, all equally lost. “Flowers?” Hazel suggested, hopping up onto the stool next to him. “Maybe a gift?”

“Maybe.” A gift wasn’t a bad idea. But it would have to be a hell of a gift.

Still, something on Hazel’s face troubled him.

It must have troubled her brother, too, because he placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

A knife slowly scraped across the wooden bar, inching its way towards her. “It’s just,” she said, biting her lip, “if she really is the daughter of Min–Athena, then…”

Nico dragged a stool so he could sit next to her, bumping their shoulders together. Luke, taller than all of them, stood behind her, the three of them leaning in close to listen.

“There’s this story I heard from a friend once, about Minerva.” she mumbled. “When the Romans conquered Athens, they stole something from the city. Something that belonged to her. Supposedly, that’s why Athena and Minerva are so different, personality-wise.”

Percy nodded, following along. Mostly. The different aspects thing still hurt his head sometimes. Hazel and Nico had tried to explain it to them numerous times, but Percy just couldn’t seem to get it. “What was stolen?”

“No one knows,” she said. The knife started making circles on the bar. “Minerva’s descendents have been looking for it ever since. But no one’s ever found it.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember what Ella said?”

“Ella?” Luke asked.

“Tyson’s girlfriend–the harpy.” Nico twirled his skull ring around his finger. “She memorized the Sibylline Oracles. Whenever she’s stressed, she likes to spout random lines of prophecy, and the last time we saw her, she told us one. She said, ‘Wisdom’s daughter walks alone.’”

Percy stared. “Wisdom’s daughter walks alone?”

“Yeah.” Nico shivered. “I don’t know what it means.”

“I do. Luke, your mom, when we introduced her to Annabeth–”

Luke gaped. “My mom? That was, what, two years ago? How–”

“You know she has the power of prophecy,” Percy said. “And she gave one to Annabeth that day.” His mind raced, bits and pieces slotting together like a puzzle he just figured out he was doing. “Luke, do you still have that disk we found?”

He frowned in confusion. “Yeah?”

“Do you have it on you?”

“No, it’s back in my…” he trailed off, his hand automatically going to his pocket. Luke was as shocked as anyone when he pulled it out.

“I thought you left it in your safe,” Hazel said.

“I thought I did, too.”

Percy held out his hand, and thought of his latest adventure. The dice game, the cistern, the disk with the owl on it. The owl he knew from Annabeth's tattoo. “I don't know why I didn't see it before,” he said, taking the disk from his cousin, “but that's an owl. Athena's owl. It looks just like the drachma tattoo she has on her foot.” He thought about his own tattoos, blue lines forming the shape of waves and tridents. Thought about phykios, and codename Septentrion, and the million little hints in both directions.

“You think this belongs to Athena?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, “and she wanted us to find it. She wanted me to find it.” He couldn't help but smile, even if it wasn't really the time for laughing matters.

“Not sure what good that's going to do with you and the daughter of Minerva breaking up,” Hazel muttered, uncharacteristically harsh.

He didn’t know what would happen. But he knew what he wanted. And what the first step to getting it might look like. “Athena led me to the disk so I could give it to Annabeth. I owe her that much at least.”

“You think you owe Minerva?”

“No,” Percy shook his head, “Not Minerva. Not Athena, either. But I know I owe Annabeth.”

It was four years of lies, yes. But it was also four years of love.

If he could, he would give her the world. He wanted to give her his heart, red with his love, and he certainly wished he could give her the ring still burning a hole in his pocket.

But he could start with this: a message from her mother.

And what could be a greater peace offering, a better olive branch, than a son of Poseidon helping a daughter of Athena with her quest?

“Okay then,” Luke said. “Nico, get us a couple of piña coladas, and then we can get down to business.”

“At 8 AM?”

“Trust me,” he grinned, predatory, like he was about to hotwire a car, or sell a techbro a useless JPEG. Or steal some rich kid’s boat for his cousin so he could teach them a lesson. “We’re going to need them.”

#everybody stay fucking calm #my ao3 isn’t loading this isn’t a joke #yay #percabeth

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