#LISTEN I WAS SCARED SHITLESS BC IT WAS 3 AM AND I'M SUPERSTITIOUS

[newathens]

this isn’t a false alarm

pairing: percabeth (it lowkey doesn’t matter tho js)

rating: general audiences

warning: angst

summary: 

Annabeth receives a gift in the mail.

It wasn't what she was expecting.

um i thought of this idea @ 3am while i was fighting off exhaustion and it scared the life out of me, so i had to write it; i hope i did the concept justice

read on AO3

The chaos was over.

She opened her mailbox swiftly and swept its contents into her arms. A few envelopes, a magazine, and a package. Hm, whatever. It had been years since the battles, the chaos, the fear; this was the happiest she’d ever been. She spent the summers training heroes and the rest creating monuments, skyscrapers, buildings, the future. There was nothing that could dampen her smile. Trudging up four flights of stairs, she finally reached her apartment and jiggled the keys in the lock quickly, wandering in to hear him shout out in welcome. She laughed at his tone and dropped her things on the kitchen table, taking the package with her as she gravitated towards the main room, where he sat idly on the couch. She wondered what it could be, her curiosity was no longer a burden.

The chaos was over.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“A package,” She muttered and looked it over. Slim, long, like something you’d put a cylinder in. Blueprints, a pole, baton, a telescope. The sticker held nothing but quick scrawl, it read: To Annabeth Chase, from a friend. She smiled fondly, if someone was pulling a prank, there’d be retaliation.

“Huh, is it heavy?”

“Somewhat,” She broke the tape with her fingernail and pulled one end open as her head turned towards the television screen absentmindedly. There was a news report, a storm was heading in and there was traffic in several different areas. Same as usual. In the box, something shuffled with her motions and she tipped it over, spilling the contents into her hand. Her eyes caught the moment well before she could react.

It’s hilt hit her first, sliding into her palm the way it had a thousand times before. She grabbed it reflexively, fingers wrapping around it, weight perfect in her hand. Then her skin felt it, the cold—the violent, frigid, freeze—of the metal was enough to burn and she screamed, jumping away as it dropped from her hands, hitting the floor with a thunk. Both of them, filled with disbelief, stared at it as it lay there between them. It was a dagger—the dagger, her dagger.

The celestial bronze was stunning, all polished and bright, not faded in the slightest. The blade’s edge looked like it could cut through air and she didn’t even need to run her fingers against it to know the surface was smoother than stone—one that had faced many years of erosion under the onslaught of a river’s motions. It was gorgeous, breathtaking even.

Everything that a dagger sitting in the pits of Tartarus for countless years shouldn’t be.

She tried to calm herself, this could be a gift from someone. The chaos was over. It could have been from a god, maybe her mother, maybe they cut a deal with someone down there, maybe the friendly titan sent it through the shrine, maybe maybe maybe. As steady as possible, she took a step forward and bent down to pick it up. He spoke up as her fingers grazed the hilt, warned her with words, pleaded with his eyes. She let out a breath through her nose and grabbed it, standing up to lift it out in front of her. The metal was still cold, but it no longer burned and slowly, her grip tightened. As she held it there, staring into it, her reflection stared back and she sighed. Blonde hair, gray eyes, a soft smile; there was nothing to fear here. She titled it back and forth, letting the bronze reflect against the light that filtered in from the window. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and—

The world seemed to slow down as she tilted it again and her reflection flashed in the blade, except it wasn’t her reflection. It wasn’t a reflection at all. There was a man looking back at her, with raven black hair, a crooked smile, and golden eyes.

She screamed again. The dagger dropped from her fingertips and she stepped back, only to trip over herself and fall to the floor, where she continued scrambling back on her elbows, shrieks spilling from her lips. A sound, a deep, grating chuckle, ran through the room and she clamped her hands over her ears, trying to stifle the sound, but it didn’t help. He was up, jumping over the coffee table and dropping down next to her, pulling her close against him. There was shouting, shouting, shouting.

“Annabeth, Annabeth!”

She gripped at his shirt and stared at the dagger that sat across the room, its blade was pointing towards them. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she wiped at them with haste. Her breaths were short, quick, panicked, “I saw him.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?”

“Percy, I saw him!” She cried, her throat ached and her body was shaking. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening.

“Saw who?”

“Him,” She looked up to catch his eye, her tone rang with finality. ��Kronos.”

He pulled back, eyes searching her face, mouth agape and she could tell, he didn’t believe her; he didn’t want to believe her. Yet, before he could could reply, before he could act like her claim was anything but the truth, the room went cold. It went from a chill to below zero in seconds, frost grew along the windows, the air stung their skin, and their breathe puffed out before them. Their arms wrapped around one another tight, and they held each other in a vice-like grip.

The dagger was menacing, daunting as it remained there inanimate, but slowly a ringing sounded out, the kind you’d hear come from metal. It was a single, constant ring that grew louder and louder and louder, until it sounded like a shriek, one that would break both their eardrums and their windows, and it was coming straight from the dagger. The bronze began to glow and their gasps came in unison, but she didn’t move, couldn’t move. Something breathed—warm and very much real—against the back of her neck and she screamed for a third time, cursing and shouting and stuffing her face deeper into Percy’s neck. Then, everything came to a halt. The ring, the glow, the frost, all gone as if it had never happened to begin with.

There was a moment of silence, then it all came crashing down on them. She pulled away, pulled in on herself, and weeped into her palms. A messy, uneven, cry that turned into string upon string of shouts and yells and screaming. Percy continued to hold her, despite her lack of coherency, but he was no better. Rambling scrambled up through his throat, his body was shaking viciously, and she could hear him ask, “Did you feel that to, did you feel that to.” Of course, she felt it. Of course, they’d both felt it. Of course, it had to be real. It would be a fool’s dream to think it was anything but.

The chaos wasn’t over.

It was only just beginning.