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blessedbyahuntress · 14 days ago

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Two Demigods and a Goddess

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Daughter!of!Hades!Reader

Warnings: I don't think so

Word Count: 1.9k

You dipped your feet in the water, sighing as it cooled your skin.

The sun shone down on your face, blinding you as you slipped your hoodie off; it was too hot to be wearing extra layers.

You traced the lines that had been engraved into the rock beside you with your knife- your only possession when you were sentenced to this island. Twenty four lines, twenty four months, or two years, if you preferred.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of light. You turned your head toward it and frowned, puzzled. Another innocent girl coming to join you in Ogygia?

You decided not to dwell on it, instead taking your dagger out of its sheath. You angled yourself back to the rock to draw a few more images. Calypso would tell you if anything major happened while you were away.

After all, nothing really happened often on this isle. Usually.

At least, that’s what you thought until you heard Calypso practically scream, “what are you doing? You blew up my dining table!”

“Great,” you muttered, rising to your feet. You slipped on your sandals, speed walking to the shore of the island.

You stayed in the shadows, watching your best friend sassily argue with a short, curly haired Latino.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He said. You could tell that he already disliked Calypso. “I just fell out of the sky. I constructed a helicopter in midair, burst into flames halfway down, and barely survived. But by all means- let’s talk about your dining table!”

“Who puts a dining table on the beach where innocent demigods can crash into it?” He continued. “Who does that?”

Calypso clenched her fists, looking about ready to march down to the Latino and punch him in the face.

Before she could do anything of the sort, you emerged from the shadows, compliments from your father.

“Well, well, well,” you said, strolling up to the pair. “What do we have here, Calypso?”

She snorted. “No one important, as you can see.”

You tsked. “You should at least ask his name, before you label him as ‘not important’.”

The boy beamed at you. “Why, thank you, Sunshine!” He looked you up and down. “I must say- loving the outfit, too. Sandals with cargo pants? I don’t know a lot of people who could pull that off.”

You raised your eyebrows, slipping your sunglasses back over your eyes. “The one thing I’ll allow you to label him as, without asking his name, is annoying.”

The boy raised a hand to his chest, acting like he was wounded. “Oh, how your words hurt me, Sunshine! But your gloomy aesthetic isn’t fooling me any time soon!”

You scowled and turned to Calypso. “This’ll be tough,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He’s by far not as attractive as Odysseus nor Percy, and he’s rather annoying. How do we get him out of here?”

“Tell you what.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’ll take him to my side of the island. And maybe, just maybe, I can build something that’ll get him out of here.”

Calypso gave a small nod, relief overtaking her features as she slowly walked back toward the winding trail which led to her home. You watched her go until she was out of sight.

Turning to the boy, you said, “what’s your name?”

He got up, and you realized he was clutching an odd-looking sphere. You raised your eyebrows as he stumbled out of the wreckage of Calypso’s dining table.

“Leo,” he answered. “Leo Valdez.”

You gestured to a different footpath a bit of a walk away from the one Calypso had run off to. “Alright, Valdez. Follow me, don’t ask any stupid questions, and I’ll make you as comfortable as I can. If you ask me anything along the lines of, “who are you?” or, “Why are you here?” I’ll skewer you.”

You grinned at his slightly uneasy expression before stalking off into the woods.

Leo found you the next day.

You were wandering the shores of Ogygia, fiddling with a black ring that had been gifted to you from Hades.

You jumped when the Latino from the day before tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned the skull on your ring toward the left, the simple piece of jewelry enlarging into a stygian iron dagger. The blade found its place under his chin in one swift movement.

He yelped.

“Oh,” you said, sounding rather disappointed. “It’s just you.”

Leo released a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Just me.”

You rolled your eyes, removing the knife from his neck. “I mean just you as in, ‘oh, it’s an annoying boy who I unfortunately am not allowed to decapitate yet, though it would be fun to do so.’.”

He blinked, and you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yes, Valdez? What do you want?”

Leo blinked again, trying to ignore the strong scent of your perfume. It smelled so good.

“Valdez?”

He realized he’d been staring at you, and had to rip his gaze away. “Uhm,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow.

He felt his mouth get dry as he tried to remember what he’d come to ask you for. Gods, why did you have to apply your makeup much better than you had yesterday?

“Uh… I-You.” Leo could tell you were growing impatient. “Do you have any scrap metals?” He blurted.

You barked a laugh, and Leo found himself loving the sound of it.

“Of course I have scrap metal!” You exclaimed. “For gods sake, I have a whole forge!”

This earned you another blink from Leo.

You grabbed his wrist, dragging him to the cave a few feet away.

Stopping in front of the entrance, you announced, “this is my home. You’re welcome here, but only, and I repeat only, to ask a question, grab food, or use the forge. You still get to sleep outside.”

“Yippee!” Leo remarked sarcastically.

You scowled at him, dropping his forearm. Gesturing farther into the cave, you started retreating back into the sunlight.

“You’ll find everything prepped and ready for use,” you told him before vanishing from his sight.

You hadn’t returned that night. Nor the night after that one.

Leo hadn’t even thought about it until you showed up holding a basket of grapes and a loaf of bread.

“Valdez.”

He glanced up and nearly smashed his thumb with his hammer; he’d forgotten how utterly breathtaking you were.

“You haven’t eaten in two days,” you said, frowning. “You need to take a break, Leo.”

It was the first time Leo had heard you use his first name instead of ‘Valdez’, and he tried to ignore the fact that he wanted you to say it more often.

“Two days?” He asked.

You nodded seriously before snorting. You moved to grab his hand before he could bash his thumb with his hammer.

Your touch burned. In fact, it seemed like his skin was still on fire from where you’d grabbed his wrist earlier in the week. He tried to ignore the sensation, having to focus on the food in your other hand instead. He didn’t find this to be a very difficult task, considering that he was starved.

You took the hammer from Leo’s hand gently, setting it off to the side.

Satisfied that he would stop and eat, you gestured to the table a few feet away. “Sit with me, Valdez. Let’s eat.”

Once properly situated- Leo sitting like a normal human being, while you put your feet up on the table- you ripped off a chunk of bread for yourself, offering the rest of the loaf to the boy next to you.

He took it as you chewed your piece with a thoughtful expression.

“I think I’m ready to tell you about myself,” you decided.

Leo, who was apparently trying to see how many grapes he could feet in his mouth without choking, froze.

You tilted your chin up, avoiding his gaze as you said, “i’m Y/N L/N, daughter of-”

“Hades,” Leo finished. “Variable of the Battle of Manhattan, assassin for hire, most deadly and unpredictable demigod in the world.” He released a breath. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you.”

Your gaze flickered to him, surprised when you didn’t see what you were expecting; Leo’s eyes meeting yours, understanding, curiosity, and perhaps admiration in the depths of his stare.

“Don’t you… hate me?” You couldn’t help but ask in a hushed voice.

Leo frowned. “Hate you? Why would I hate you?”

“Because…” You struggled with an answer.

The boy beside you rose to his feet, taking both of your hands in his. “Y/N, I don’t think I could ever hate you for anything, much less the things you had to do.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. The only other person who’d reacted like this had been… no one, actually. “I-I-” You stammered. “I don’t know what to say.”

Leo gave you a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know what I say is true.”

You found yourself looking to the entrance of the cave. You stood abruptly, dragging the Latino boy after you as you ran to the beach.

“Whoa!” He yelped. “Y/N, what’re you…”

He trailed off as he saw the raft that awaited on the shore.

“Hurry!” You said, tugging him toward the raft. “I don’t know how long it will stay!”

“But…” Leo found himself not able to finish that sentence as you glared at him over your shoulder.

“Come on, Valdez!” You cried. “Move! It’s supposed to take you where you want to go, but the island’s magic is obviously unstable! You have to rig up your guidance device to navigate!”

You continued to sprint to the raft, Leo behind you; he’d snapped out of his daze when he realized you had grabbed the console from the other table beside the forge.

You and Leo worked in sync, stepping back once you were sure everything was situated correctly.

“Go,” you said, stepping off of the raft. You inched back a bit when Leo hopped off too.

He grabbed your hand again, and you stared down at your intertwined fingers. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“You have to.” You cursed yourself for how heartbroken you sounded.

“Then, once the war is over, I'll come back to you.”

“Leo-”

“I know that no man has ever landed here twice, but I have to. I’ll find a way, Y/N. If it’s the last thing I-”

You lurched forward and placed your lips on his.

Leo’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. He stood there for a moment, unsure if this was real, if you were real- ‘cus it sure as hell felt like he was dreaming.

Then he closed his eyes, hands finding a place on your waist.

You pulled away far too soon, in Leo’s opinion.

“Go,” you repeated, stepping away.

“Okay.”

“And don’t give me any empty promises.”

“Okay.”

Leo stepped back onto the raft, not sure if it was salt water or tears running down his cheeks.

He looked back at Ogygia, only to find it was only a spec in the distance now.

You had said not to give you any empty promises. And he wouldn’t.

He’d give you his vow.

“I’m coming back to you, Y/N,” he whispered. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

#heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez pjo #leo valdez x you #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #calypso #ogygia

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somepsychopomp · 1 month ago

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How does Calypso's island go down in the omega Odysseus au?

How'd I know someone else would ask about this LMAO

so I've imagined Calypso in a couple of different scenarios but here's the 3 I like to ponder the most:

One, gods can change their shape to take on any appearance/secondary gender, though they do have a preferred way of presenting. I'd imagine Calypso would present herself as an alpha when Odysseus first washes up on her isle. She'd be like "omg my husband's finally here! Hm but he's an omega... well that's no problem I guess I'll be the alpha teehee :)"

And she'll do all her typical Calypso things while also trying to court Odysseus through her scent (she smells of warm wood, amber, and lily petals on the water), healing his injuries, cooking, and doing everything else to "provide" for him. When Odysseus continues to refuse her advances, she becomes more physically needy and aggressive. She won't hit him no, but she'll cling to him, force him to eat and bathe with her, force him to let her dress his body, will rub her scent all over him and his clothes, and basically make it impossible for Odysseus to ignore her presence on his body.

Calypso gets so excited for his first heat on her island, but is stunned to find that Odysseus becomes anxious and physically aggressive while in heat. He did spend 10 years at war without his true alpha; his body has learned to take his massive hormonal upswing and turn it into aggression rather than what little Calypso knows of meek, demure omegas. She can barely get close to Odysseus, even when he's empty handed, because he'll claw, kick, and bite until she leaves his space.

Calypso feels terribly hurt and upset by such a stark rejection, but she rationalizes it in her mind as, "Oh, this poor omega! He's been so badly hurt by the outside world that he no longer knows when he's safe. He can no longer recognize love or someone who wants to love him!"

So she'll wait. She will wait until the heat where Odysseus does eventually break and the slick runs down his thighs as he begs for her touch. It'll happen any day now, just you wait, Odysseus...

Alternatively,

I kinda really like the idea of Odysseus waking up on Ogygia and being relieved to come across a fellow omega for once. Omega Calypso would be ecstatic to have someone to share her habits and instincts with, including "platonic" scent sharing. Odysseus isn't immediately on guard like in canon in this instance, so as he recovers from his old injuries, he lets Calypso caress him and comb his hair. Maybe he'll even lean into her touch a little bit. After all, to him, this is nothing more than a kindly omega helping him recover.

The fact that Calypso invites him into her bed is a bit strange, but nest-sharing among omegas is quite common. (Though under most circumstances, the omegas would know each other quite well in order to share the same sleeping space.) Odysseus thinks Calypso is just being extremely generous. He doesn't want to offend his host, so he rests in her bed alongside her, and damn, if it's not the best sleep he's gotten in years. Even if he wakes to Calypso cradling him against her as if they're mates...

To Calypso, the fact that they're both omegas is no obstacle. They can share their heats together and oh! wouldn't it be the dream for their cycles to sync up?

They could keep each other company forever and ever. They don't need a stinky, bossy alpha to bother them; they could live in peace here as mated omegas to each other. Calypso can't stop dreaming about the shared nest they'll build together. Or the way they'll spend every night cuddling before bed, purring to each other the way only omegas could.

When Odysseus gets wise to her plans, he tries to gently reject Calypso, saying he's still mated to his wife at home and that he's not interested in anyone else. Does she listen? Of course not. From there, it's basically the same as canon where Ody can't escape Ogygia and is constantly "comforted" by Calypso.

And lastly, the idea that I've lowkey been kinda wanting to turn into a standalone fic (tw for assault/abuse):

Omega Odysseus washes up on alpha Calypso's shore... and she forces herself upon him. And that's how Nausithous & Nausinous came to be.

Odysseus blames himself for being so weak. He was caught up in the throes of his heat and in mental anguish from having lost his final few men. He was at his lowest point both physically and mentally, and let another alpha take him to bed. He betrayed his Penelope, his wife, his alpha. He betrayed his son Telemachus, who he still longed to know.

Odysseus cannot help but hate Calypso and resent his "illegitimate" children. He doesn't even view them as children, for as they grew inside of him, he found them to be more like parasites thrust upon him by Calypso. They robbed him of his strength throughout his pregnancy, forcing him to depend on his captor for sustenance, care, and shelter.

Odysseus then falls into a deep, persistent postpartum depression that's coupled with his preexisting guilt/shame from losing all his men + his intense longing for home.

The twins grow up hearing stories from their sire about how she found their dam on her isle one day, that Odysseus was sent to her by the gods to give her a family. For the most part, the boys grow up thinking that their dam is similar to the ocean.

Odysseus is sometimes silent and still. He won't speak for days on end, will hardly eat, and might not leave his bed. On the rare occasion, he may let them cuddle against his side or weave flowers into his hair, but he won't reciprocate or thank them.

At other times, their dam becomes a raging tempest. He'll cry and wail, lashing out at their poor sire when she comes close to comfort him. He'll throw plates or stones or whatever's nearest and will scream at their children to not come any closer. He's brought Nausithous and Nausinous to tears more than once, for they do not understand why they are not loved.

Meanwhile, Odysseus thinks he's going mad. Originally, he tried to keep track of the days spent on Ogygia. But weeks turned to months, and then the twins came, and then months turned into years, and now he has no idea how long it's been. All he knows is that the boys are growing up.

(In my mind, since the twins were born on Ogygia, they're immortal beings like Calypso despite having a technically mortal father. And since they're not actually human, they grow up a lot faster than human kids would. In the span of only 7 years, they go from babies to young adults.)

Odysseus would obviously not take this well. Since the boys are the only real marker to judge the passage of time, he thinks he's spent a lifetime on Ogygia already. He becomes possessed by what might've happened to Penelope and Telemachus in such a long time. Odysseus hadn't returned home in, what, a minimum of 30 years?

They must surely hate him, if they even remember him at all. But even then, Odysseus cannot help but long for his old home on Ithaca and what he used to know. He just needs closure. Even if he were to find Penelope and learn that she's moved on, he just needs to know.

I think by the time the twins are closer to adults, they can start to see the cracks forming in their parents' relationship. They wonder why Odysseus flinches from Calypso's voice or touch despite him being the "abuser"/negligent parent. They hear him waking up screaming from nightmares- sometimes he wails about monsters, other times its names they don't recognize, but more often than not, they wake to hear their dam crying about someone named Penelope. They witness him begging the gods for salvation, only to be met with silence.

By the time Hermes arrives, Odysseus nearly faints from relief when he learns it's only been seven years instead of like, 18-20+. Still not great, but way better than what he thought was happening.

Idk how exactly I'd go from here. I would kind of like to imagine that while Calypso is mad and upset that her omega is leaving her, their children actually encourage Ody to leave because they can see so clearly now that he's not happy here and never has been.

To amp up the angst though, I've also considered Odysseus recovering somewhat from his postpartum depression and not necessarily treating Nausithous & Nausinous as his kids, but more so his proteges. Either consciously or unconsciously, he develops a relationship similar to the one he had with Athena where, since he doesn't have anything else to do, he trains his sons to fight. He also teaches them riddles and how to read/write poetry, in order to sharpen their minds. Calypso mistakes it as Odysseus finally settling into his life with her at last, but in Odysseus' mind, this is sort of his redemption for dropping that infant from the wall of Troy/all his other mistakes. He took one innocent life, and lost many more, but he can at least do what he can to salvage and nurture the products of his unwilling pregnancy.

He still hopes that someday, he'll leave and never have to return to this wretched island and his captor. But he doesn't want to leave his children defenseless with their monster of a sire. It's not an easy situation to be in, but Odysseus is only doing the best that he can.

(There's also the added twist of both Nausithous and Nausinous wanting to go with him when he can finally leave...)

#omegaverse au #odysseus of ithaca #calypso #omega odysseus #alpha calypso #omega calypso #tw abuse #tw assault #poor odysseus #epic the musical

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wolfpants · 3 months ago

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hi lovely wolfpants! just discovered your fics (big love) and your tumblr so i was going through your ask tag where you mentioned working on a collab with another writer.

is this still on table and if so i’m so intrigued! 👀👀

Hello lovely anon!

Thank you so much for your kind words! You've brightened my week!

Yes, this is still very much on the table and we're picking it up again soon after we wade through some current deadline commitments elsewhere.

You may have heard of @citrusses from their brilliant fics Our Objective Remainds Unchanged and The Isle of Ogygia amongst other heartstopping volumes.

This is a big project for us, so probably won't start publishing until the new year, but watch this space. Expect more ⚓️🌊🚢 and that's all I'm saying for now 😇

#writing #ask #anon ask #drarry

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jtimu · 4 days ago

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@julcheninred I intend to win Worst Drawn in my favorite challenge of the year - Draw Drarry Badly. Featuring one of my favorite scenes from @citrusses' The Isle of Ogygia.

#there's a reason i stick to writing folks #drarry #really spectacular art #putting da Vinci to shame #🥞#draw Drarry Badly challenge

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heliads · 5 months ago

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higher and higher - annabeth chase x calypso

Annabeth crash lands on Ogygia instead of Leo. It's not great, having to spend that much time with Calypso, especially when Annabeth's breakup with Percy is still fresh in her mind. It's not great, knowing that Calypso is never going to fall in love with Annabeth so she can leave. Right?

masterlist

a/n: almost two months since my last fic and i come back with a rarepair absolutely no one expected. who can explain? certainly not me! anyway i love you all xoxo, will try to post more in the future <3

Annabeth remembers falling.

That’s one of the first thoughts that flickers into her head after the slow rise up from unconsciousness. It is important that Annabeth is not falling, because she had been for a long time. Long enough to kill, maybe. Long enough for it to be startling that she could have been flung on a fall like that and still manage to survive.

Then again, maybe she didn’t. Annabeth cracks open one of her eyes and sees a bright blue sky overhead. Sunny, picturesque. Straight out of an advertisement. Annabeth is suddenly flung back to a memory of when she was seven and going to die after running away from home. She’d been with Luke and Thalia. They’d paused their flighty trip at a rest stop for truckers. There’d been a gas station and accompanying convenience store. Annabeth was in charge of distracting the attendant by being seven years old and cute while Thalia and Luke loaded up their pockets with snacks.

While looking adorable, Annabeth had noticed a carousel of postcards from all over the world– temples, mosques, pyramids, the like. The one that caught her eye was a beach with strawberry striped umbrellas propped on pearly sand. Looping writing in the printed sky wrote, Wish you were here! Seven year old Annabeth had indeed wished to be there, in a cookie cutter world where monsters didn’t exist and fathers believed their daughters every time. She’d walked away from the gas station holding that picture in her mind, wondering if she’d ever find a place that perfect.

Now, blinking incredulously at the tropical warmth around her, Annabeth honestly thinks she might have stumbled upon that place after all. Annabeth’s hands dig into heated sand as she tries to sit up, head pounding. Maybe she has died. Maybe this is Elysium. Maybe she died falling, and this is her reward for years of good work.

No, no. Her soul would have to get judged first, and that, Annabeth would remember. There’s no fast-tracking it to Elysium, even as a hero. The Greeks are sticklers for their rules. There’s no way she could just wake up already in the paradise of the dead. Besides, Annabeth knows for a fact that she would never accept to just go to Elysium. She, Thalia, and Luke made a pact that they would all try for the Isle of the Blest, and Annabeth has never been one to shy away from a promise. Certainly not one made to them.

She’s not dead, then, but how? More memories start piecing themselves together in Annabeth’s brain, jigsaw shapes fitting into place. She had been falling from the sky. Falling from the Argo II, knocked off after Khione attacked. Annabeth remembers the air suddenly turning a frigid cold, then all crumbling into chaos. Leo had been knocked overboard, but she dove for him just in time, knowing that they’d need someone with his fiery spirit to save the ship from freezing. The momentum had been too much for her, though, and she’d only ended up trading her safe place on the ship for Leo’s tumble off the edge.

Annabeth remembers her hands scrambling for purchase, but finding none. She remembers the ship falling away in moments, disappearing into a distant speck in the sky. She had been falling forever, and closed her eyes to pretend the impact would never happen. There should have been nothing but endless, open ocean below her, but Annabeth swears something shifted her course towards wherever she is now. A familiar presence, perhaps. She will do anything to convince herself it was Athena, making up for years of nothing, but in the end, it could have been anything at all.

Dizziness subsided for the most part, Annabeth attempts to stand and makes it on the second go. She has to force her hands to her knees and bend over in shaking, sweating misery for a few moments, but her head clears again and her spine straightens.

The sight before her makes about as much sense as the tumult of colors behind her eyes when she stood up too fast. There is ocean as far as the horizon stretches, endless waves of perfect cerulean blue. The only land in sight is beneath Annabeth’s feet. Glancing around her, Annabeth realizes she’s on what must be an island, but she wasn’t aware places like this existed outside of Photoshop. It looks like a paradise. Annabeth freezes momentarily, reminded of C.C.’s Spa and Resort, white dresses and guinea pigs, but that place burned down when they released the pirates.

Besides, this island is different. Annabeth knows this intuitively, feels the truth of it like breathing. She’s never been here before, but she wishes she had. There’s no sight of anyone around, save for carefully cultivated garden beds. Annabeth detects the faint scent of something beautiful carried to her on the salt breeze. It’s far more poignant than any daisy or rose, but it’s somehow familiar as well. Annabeth can’t imagine how anything here could possibly be back at camp or in the States, but then the wind shifts towards her again, carrying the floral scent more persuasively, and– oh Gods, she knows where she is now. Percy has that plant growing in the fire escape. Moonlace, from where he was trapped all those years ago, where Annabeth must be trapped as well.

This is Ogygia.

She isn’t supposed to be here, that much is obvious. Annabeth can’t remember Calypso ever falling in love with a woman. Always male travelers, always love unrequited. This was never in the myths, which probably means she’ll never get out of here. Maybe Annabeth was wrong about Athena directing her this way after all. Maybe it was Gaea or one of her accomplices, scheming to stick Annabeth the one place she couldn’t escape, tricking her into the one puzzle even a gifted daughter of Athena couldn’t solve. It would be clever, except it makes Annabeth hopeless.

No. No, she won’t lose hope, not yet. Annabeth will find a way out. That’s the whole point of being one of Athena’s supposed favorites. She’s the smart one on the quest, the one with the plan. Even if Annabeth has never had to scheme her way out of a magical island designed to trap her, that’ll just make it more exciting when she does manage it. Talk about a story to add to the books.

Annabeth turns her back on the sparkling water and heads further towards the center of the island. She’ll need fresh water and food to keep her mind alert. The goal is to avoid Calypso for as long as possible, although Annabeth is assuming the Titan’s daughter already knows she’s here and is simply avoiding her.

Fine by Annabeth. She doesn’t want any part of this, either. The sooner she gets out, the better. If she can find fire, maybe Annabeth can sacrifice part of her meal like back at camp and try to get a message through to her mom, or any other god who might be able to help her. She remembers Hermes visited Odysseus on Ogygia in the Odyssey, maybe that would do it. And Hermes owes her, anyway. For Luke. For all of them.

There’s a cluster of buildings about a five minute walk from the beach. The ground under Annabeth’s feet transforms from warm sand to lush grass dotted with wildflowers. The sun still beams happily overhead, but the heat is bearable due to the shade of tall trees curving towards the light above. The shelter from direct sun is a nice break on what is undoubtedly a bad sunburn developing on Annabeth’s shoulders, but enough light gets through to keep it pleasant and give the plants enough sunshine to grow. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect here. It makes her want to retch into a nearby flowerpot.

Annabeth had been hoping that Calypso would stay out of her way for a little longer, but she’s barely reached the threshold of the closest building before a voice behind her calls out haughtily, “Who are you?”

Annabeth, feeling oddly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, turns around slowly. A girl seemingly around her age is standing on the path right behind her, even though Annabeth swears there hadn’t been a living soul around when she had walked up from the beach. Maybe the fall from the sky hurt her more than she’d thought, or maybe the nymph is using magic against her already.

Instead of answering immediately, Annabeth takes the time to size Calypso up. She thinks she remembers there being servants on this island the last time she brushed up on her myths, but she’s pretty sure they were invisible, and besides, she could tell this girl was the daughter of a Titan even without a formal introduction. Calypso radiates power in a quiet way, so unlike the harsh, obvious aura of the Olympians. The girl before her was alive centuries before Annabeth was even the tiniest notion in Athena’s head, and she will continue to draw breath in the millennia after Annabeth’s thin thread of life winds to a close.

Calypso continues to stare her down, wind tugging gently at her white tunic. “I asked you a question,” Calypso says coldly.

“I’m your latest visitor,” Annabeth says, meeting her gaze steadily. “Calypso, I assume?”

Calypso arches a brow. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I’m familiar with your island,” Annabeth says.

Calypso narrows her eyes. “Impossible, you’ve never been here before. Only male travelers are unfortunate enough to crash upon my shores.”

“Yet I’m here anyway,” Annabeth counters. “Any idea why?”

Calypso folds her arms across her chest. “No, and I’d like you to leave before I find out.”

Annabeth makes a disbelieving sound. “Any ideas for that? I’d welcome anything but swimming.”

“Pity,” Calypso drawls. “My last visitor was a son of Poseidon. Bet he could have done it.”

Annabeth can’t help it but flinch at the mention of Percy. It’s not like she wanted to, she gets the feeling that Calypso would draw blood at any chink in the armor Annabeth let slip. It’s just that the last few weeks have been hard, really hard. As hard as anyone would expect if they were trapped on a trireme in the sky with five other demigods and their ex boyfriend.

It’s been several months since she broke up with Percy, so at least the wound isn’t fresh. Still, Annabeth feels like she’s walking on eggshells whenever they’re within a few feet of each other. Whatever uneasy truce they managed to eke out post-breakup was obliterated when Percy vanished from Camp Half-Blood. In her tumultuous, self-destructive search to find him, Annabeth almost managed to convince herself that she might be able to love him again when he turned up, but when she arrived at Camp Jupiter, all she felt was the same, numbing sort of fine. She didn’t love him. Not like she was supposed to.

That just made it worse, then, stuck on the same boat. They’re trying to pretend everything is normal, but normal is the last word Annabeth would use to describe the current vibe between them. Now is not the time to explore her precise feelings about the breakup, not when a dormant earth goddess is about to wake and destroy the world. Annabeth’s stubborn heart, however, refuses to cooperate, and try as she might, she can’t think of Percy in a neutral light. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

So, hearing Calypso casually reference him, as if Percy were just another boy in her life with absolutely no tie to Annabeth whatsoever, cuts straight to the bone. Annabeth remembers when Percy disappeared on this island. She remembers the flower he brought back with him. She also remembers kissing him right before he vanished, and wondering how the same gesture that made his cheeks turn so pink didn’t even make her heart skip a beat.

Annabeth tries to remain unaffected, but Calypso clearly caught the flinch. The nymph leans forward inquisitively, and then her eyes widen with shock when she realizes. “No. You’re her, aren’t you? The one he left me to find. You’re Annabeth.”

Something sick twists in Annabeth’s gut to think that, even all those years ago, Percy was evidently talking about her enough for Calypso to remember her name. They say he’d been head over heels for Annabeth ever since he started at camp. When they first started dating, it was like a demigod celebrity couple, but Annabeth became the villain after they broke up. It got to the point that even Chiron was asking if Annabeth truly didn’t love Percy, a conversation neither the centaur nor herself really enjoyed. Like anyone wants someone akin to a parent asking about their love life.

The problem was, Annabeth did love Percy. Still does, just not romantically. She loves him like she loves Grover, like she loves Thalia. He’s her family. She couldn’t help the fact that they didn’t work out together in any other sense, even if no one else seems to understand that.

“Yes,” she says at last. “I’m Annabeth.”

Calypso stares a moment longer, then starts to laugh. “I can’t believe this. And here I was starting to think the gods didn’t have a sense of humor. I’m just starting to find my peace, and they send me you?”

“Look,” Annabeth says, feeling oddly irked even though she certainly has enough to say about the gods and their humor, “I didn’t ask for this, alright? I don’t care what you think about me, just get me out of here.”

Calypso’s eyes flash. “I can’t. Surely Percy mentioned that part, right? I have to fall in love. And that only works for male travelers, anyway. With my luck, you may be stuck here forever.”

Annabeth sucks in a breath. The fate of the quest is at hand, the fate of the whole world, and it could all be lost just because she’s stuck on Ogygia? “No. No. I need to leave now. My friends need me. Everything will be lost if I’m trapped on this island.”

Calypso laughs sardonically. “Now you get it, don’t you? Every time, it draws me mad. Some new upstart hero ruining my peace and quiet, then having the audacity to complain about how much they wish they could leave. I’ve been here for centuries. You think I don’t want to go, too? I deserve it more than you, anyway. I’ve been trapped here for thousands of your lifetimes. Trust me, daughter of Athena, you have no right to bemoan your fate.”

Annabeth feels her temper rearing up in the back of her throat, an ugly thing. Calypso stalks closer, taunting her. “But you don’t care about that, do you? You wish I could stay here forever, and not just because of my father. Aren’t you scared that I might leave this place and find Percy again? He talked about you a lot, Annabeth, but I bet he talked about me, too.”

Annabeth swallows back a hot curl of rage. “This little insult game solves nothing. You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, but I do,” Calypso smiles. “He told me all about you. I’ll tell you, though, by the end, he was thinking about staying. They always do. I planted that seed in his mind, the idea that he might remain here and never return. You might be able to break the curse and get out of here, but trust that I will follow, and trust that I will dog your heels until I find him again.”

Annabeth forces out a laugh, but it sounds less certain than Calypso’s. “The gods would cast you back to your pretty little island. They need me for their quests, but they hate the Titans more than they hate their own children. Only one of us is leaving, and surely the centuries have taught you the lesson of who that’ll be. And no, I’m not concerned about Percy, so make all the threats you want.”

Calypso’s proud grin slips a little, stung. “Why is that?”

“I thought you knew,” she says, “I had him the whole time.” Annabeth tosses her hair a little, justs her chin out in spite, and hates herself.

Annabeth turns crisply on her heels and marches away. It doesn’t matter where she goes, so long as it’s far away. If the path in front of her doesn’t contain any presumptuous daughters of Titans, Annabeth will walk as far as her feet will carry her.

Eventually, her mind clears of rage enough for Annabeth to start looking around her again. The sun has sunk somewhat in the sky, so it must be approaching evening. It rattles Annabeth that the boat hasn’t come yet; surely, the curse will know she’s not supposed to be here, and take her away. And if not that, they will find her on the Argo II. If there’s still an Argo II, of course. If Khione and the spirits didn’t rip it limb from limb. If those onboard still care enough to track her down.

Of course they will, and of course the ship is fine. They need her. Better yet, they want her. Annabeth will leave this beautiful prison if it’s the last thing she does. Her stomach rumbles, sending pangs of hunger through her. It’s probably been hours since she ate. Reluctantly, Annabeth turns back towards the center of the island, searching for fruit trees or anything edible. Calypso can stand and glare if she likes, but Annabeth isn’t just going to give up and die.

This time, when Annabeth’s feet stall at the threshold of one of Calypso’s buildings, no nymph appears to chase her away. She ducks inside, blinking at the sudden darkness. Lamps flare up on the walls, making her startle, but no one appears to be inside. That doesn’t mean anything, Annabeth reminds herself of how Calypso had surprised her earlier that day.

Even if Calypso is watching, Annabeth forces herself to ignore it. She finds food out on one of the tables, and since no one else appears to be around, helps herself. It’s good, and the dirty plates are gone the moment she’s done, whisked away by invisible hands. Annabeth drinks cold water and wonders what she’s supposed to do with herself.

The first idea is to attempt to contact Hermes. Annabeth snatches a piece of bread before one of the invisible servants can take it away and goes in search of fire. There’s a small cooking fire burning outside, the smoke curling up to the sky where the faintest of stars are just starting to pepper the oncoming night.

Annabeth holds her hand over the fire and lets the bread drop, sending a delicious aroma of char and yeasty goodness up to the heavens. Annabeth closes her eyes, imagining the messenger god in her mind.

“Hermes, if you’re listening, I could really use a way out. I know you’ve brought people out of here before. I’m needed in the quest. Please, I can’t stay here forever. Please.”

Annabeth finishes up her quick prayer, then opens her eyes, casting her head wildly up to the sky. Nothing. Worse, she doesn’t even feel that satisfied tug in her gut she usually gets after a prayer. Maybe Hermes didn’t hear her. Maybe she didn’t offer enough. There’s a fruit tree nearby, but before Annabeth can even think about adding some to the pyre, Calypso speaks out of the dusky darkness.

“He’s not going to come for you.”

“You don’t know that,” Annabeth says, eyeing the fruit tree in earnest now.

Calypso scoffs, emerging from the door opposite Annabeth’s structure. “I do. You really think you’re the first one to try that?”

Annabeth opens her mouth to argue before Calypso has even finished speaking, but she closes it again, because– she had thought she was the first. She had thought that Hermes would rescue her if she needed it, because the gods need her, right? They need her on the quest. They wouldn’t just leave her to this flowery rock and assume the others could handle one less hero with them, but of course they would. The gods have never cared about the semantics of mortals, only the end result of their deathly quests.

Annabeth looks away from Calypso and back at the fire, because it’s easier to stare until the fire casts white tendrils of white on the back of her eyes than face Calypso’s victory. The piece of bread is almost burned to bits by now, and still there is no evidence that her prayer was anything but ignored.

“Who tried?” She asks quietly. “To reach Hermes, I mean.”

Calypso chuckles softly. “Everyone since Odysseus.”

Annabeth closes her eyes in grief. “We all do the same things, then.”

“Of course,” the answer floats across the darkness of Annabeth’s shut lids. “You curse, then you pray. You get ignored. You try to escape but you can’t. Then you give up, and you let me love you. And then you leave.”

Annabeth opens her eyes. Calypso seems brighter than usual compared to how dark it was when she wouldn’t look. “I won’t give up.”

“You will,” Calypso says, but it isn’t cruel, surprisingly. Just tired, like she’s heard this story a hundred times before, every single hero who thought they could break the prophecy and failed.

Annabeth won’t be another number. This, she promises herself, staring up at how the stars unfurl against the darkening sky. It’s beautiful here, truly. Almost enough to convince someone that it would be worthwhile to stay. But Annabeth has a life outside of Ogygia, and she’s coming back for it, no matter who tries to write her out.

The next few days are frustrating, full of dead ends and worthless ventures. Annabeth walks all over the island, trying to find the boat or something she could use to get out of here, but nothing. The raft does not appear. Hermes does not answer her, not even in a dream. It becomes increasingly evident that there will be no Hail Mary, no saving grace, to pull Annabeth out. If she escapes, it will be due to her own ingenuity and nothing else.

For the billionth time since she crash-landed on Ogygia, Annabeth wishes she still had Daedalus’ laptop with her. With that tool on her side, she could have come up with a design in a heartbeat, and probably had the time to play a few rounds of solitaire on the journey out. Maybe even the laptop could figure out the puzzle of why she’s here, who put her here, or the most captivating riddle of all, Calypso herself.

After that first fight, they don’t argue anymore, not really. Annabeth respects her space and Calypso doesn’t try to insult her. The invisible servants bring Annabeth food and drink. She finds fresh clothes in her size. And, on the evening of the third day, Calypso steals out of her house and joins Annabeth on the shore, staring up at the stars and hoping for any prayer of a rescue.

“You haven’t given up yet,” Calypso notes.

“No, but it’s tempting,” Annabeth admits. She’s used to long puzzles, questions without answers. All by herself, though, knowing her friends are out there needing her, the stress only makes her frazzled.

Calypso lifts a graceful shoulder. “This isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself in a difficult situation. Percy said you were great at it.”

Again, Annabeth flinches at the mention of his name. This time, Calypso doesn’t look triumphant at the reaction, but slightly concerned. “You always look worried when I bring him up,” the nymph mentions. “When he was here, he seemed very happy to say your name.”

Annabeth sighs. Several yards away, the waves crash against the shore, dark with night. “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed.”

Calypso frowns. “Don’t tell me your quest caused an argument. I’ve seen stories like yours, daughter of Athena. One bad turn does not a failed journey make.”

Annabeth fixes her eyes on the horizon. Steady and resolute, the endless line of water seems more forgiving than the rush of blood to her head when she says, “The journey ended before it started. We separated a while back.”

Calypso actually sits bolt upright, genuinely surprised. Annabeth thinks it’s the most unnerved Calypso has looked the entirety of Annabeth’s stay on the island. “No. The way he talked about you– I’ve never seen a man more in love. Except Odysseus, maybe. I knew he was a lost cause and I still fell in love. Was it the quest that split you?”

Calypso seems eager to keep asking questions, but she bites her tongue before long. Still, the unspoken queries seem to pour out into the air, dark as wine against the shining sand: What makes two demigods stop loving each other? What makes a story like that stop working?

In the end, Annabeth can’t answer. Even she doesn’t know. She has this persistent idea every now and then that she should try again, like tackling a math problem when her solution doesn’t match the answer key, but she gets the feeling Percy would hate their relationship being compared to a piece of calculus homework. She just didn’t love him enough. That was it. Maybe something is wrong with Annabeth. It wouldn’t be a first.

“We were already broken up by the time this quest started,” Annabeth says listlessly. “Before he even went to New Rome, actually. When he first disappeared– I thought it was because he wanted some space, you know? We’d separated a few days before that.”

Calypso frowns. “But from what Percy told me, the two of you weren’t together yet when he was here. Not officially, at least. How short was the relationship?”

“Very,” Annabeth says wryly. “We spent far more time leading up to it than actually committing. The idea was better in theory, I guess. Most things are. We were only dating for a couple of months, and we started fizzling out halfway through. Turns out we were better as friends.”

Calypso hums under her breath. It’s an ancient tune, probably; Annabeth doesn’t recognize it, and the sorrow in the notes seems far older than a tune she could have heard on the radio. “That seems like a waste. All that time of dodging around each other’s feelings, and you couldn’t even make it last.”

Annabeth rushes to her feet, feeling like a snarling wild cat. “It wasn’t a waste. Nothing about the two of us was a waste. We just weren’t as good of a match as everyone thought, that’s all. It doesn’t mean we were bad. We just weren’t built to last as a couple.”

“As a couple?” Calypso asks, arching a brow. “And you’re perfectly fine as battle partners now? There’s no shred of hesitation between you two? Funny, from the way Percy talked, I didn’t think you’d be able to be in the same room together after ending things.”

“You don’t know a thing about us,” Annabeth hisses. “Judge us all you like, but you have no idea what it’s like. Being trapped on this island with boys flung at your feet once every century is a poor excuse for real conversation.”

Calypso’s eyes flash. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. Mortals, always so obsessed with themselves. If you had the benefit of centuries of hindsight, you’d hold onto the good things, even when you grew tired of them. You think every love has to be life-changing, every high everlasting. This is immortality. Nothing is as good as you want it. Grow up, Annabeth Chase, and realize that you have to settle for what you can get.”

Annabeth’s lip curls. “What a way to live. I’d rather die at sixty than have centuries of nothingness.”

Calypso gets to her feet as well, daintily brushing sand off her chiton. The gesture is meant to be elegant, but Annabeth swears her hands are shaking. “Get off this island as soon as you can, and you’ll get the chance. If monsters don’t kill you by thirty, I’ll believe in miracles again.”

Annabeth scoffs and turns back to the water, refusing to look back at Calypso until soft footsteps pad away, leaving her alone on the beach again. All of a sudden, the wind feels cold, and Annabeth has to hug her arms around herself to maintain warmth. She sits back down, but her cozy place on the sand no longer seems half so inviting. She ends up retreating to the structure she’s been using as her quarters, and spends a long and lonely night wishing for sleep that only comes in fitful whispers.

Calypso is cold and distant the next day. Annabeth puts up with it until midday, when she caves and walks over to her. The nymph regards her with wary eyes, but seems to warm up when Annabeth manages an apology for her outburst. Annabeth isn’t sure if Calypso will accept her words, but she seems glad enough that her only other visible companion has some semblance of dignity. When a bowl of freshly cut fruit appears by her side later that day, Annabeth knows she is forgiven.

She’s glad for the snack, too. Annabeth has begun work in earnest on a raft. She remembers Leo’s pointers when he was building the Argo II, and even if she isn’t going to the lengths of a trireme, it’s still a good exercise in mathematics to calculate the length of her lumber pieces, the precise angles of the rope needed to control the sails.

Calypso has taken to dropping by and offering input. Sometimes, it’s useful, and sometimes, it’s just to point out that her woodcutting is sloppy. Annabeth rolls her eyes and Calypso giggles. It’s not mean-spirited, and when Annabeth “accidentally” splashes her with water while trying to get the raft in the water for a test run, Calypso is so incredulous that Annabeth laughs, too. A lot.

After many failed attempts, Annabeth gets the thing in the water for real. She’ll still have to do some tugging on the mast to get it to stay up, but the logs she’s lashed together seem fairly stable. Calypso watches from the shore as Annabeth carefully clambers aboard and sits on her creation.

“That’s the least stable vessel I’ve ever seen,” Calypso comments, shading her eyes from the sun.

Annabeth just laughs. “My competition is Odysseus or a child of Poseidon. I’m proud anyway.” She extends a hand out to Calypso. “Want to see how stable it is?”

Calypso snorts. “I’ll drown.”

“Not a chance,” Annabeth protests. “My calculations are precise. Come on, I need to know if it’ll survive.”

Calypso gives the makeshift raft one last tenuous glance, then gathers up her chiton around her waist and makes a running leap into the water. The raft isn’t far from sand in case the ties broke and sent Annabeth and the logs tumbling into the sea, so Calypso makes the jump, just barely. She does send the raft into a rocking frenzy, and Annabeth has to grab her and pull her to a seat so they’re not both knocked overboard.

For a moment, they freeze there, Annabeth’s hands on Calypso’s shoulders. She’s unable to do anything but stare at her fingers splayed across the nymph’s skin. She thinks this is the first time they’ve touched beyond accidental brushing of fingers as tools are passed back and forth. Calypso’s skin is warmed by the sun and smells of cinnamon. By contrast, Annabeth, having already ventured into the sea a few times today, feels cold through and through, her stomach a pit of sinking ice. Calypso shivers, and Annabeth has the all-consuming thought that it must be because of her, even though the day is so warm and a human should be warm too, relatively. Still, she doesn’t pull away, not until she remembers too late that they’re not supposed to be doing this.

Annabeth snatches her hands guiltily, suddenly sure that the gods must be watching even though they’ve been steadily ignoring her this whole time. The raft bobs along, carried aimlessly by the tide. Calypso’s eyes are hooked on Annabeth’s face, and it is only with great reluctance that they turn away and towards the open sea again.

Annabeth shifts slightly so they’re sitting side by side, staring the same way towards the horizon. “How far can you go from shore?” She asks.

“Not much farther,” Calypso answers. “A dozen paces, maybe. Then I stop. I’ve tried sailing away with the others, but the raft won’t leave if I’m on it.”

“Mine will,” Annabeth says, suddenly sure of herself. “If you leave with me, we could go together.”

Calypso sighs, her expression wistful. “I can’t. I’ve tried.”

“Try again,” Annabeth says, suddenly insistent. “The gods aren’t looking.”

“They always are,” Calypso spits. “They take when I’m happy and they hate it when I get what I want. Now that you’ve said it, they’ll send you away.” A shadow passes over her face, and Calypso turns abruptly away, refusing to let Annabeth see the truth in her eyes any longer. “Take me back,” she announces. “I’ve been off-shore too long. The servants will get anxious.”

Annabeth wants to protest, but the look on Calypso’s face, screwed up and resolute save for a high point of heat on her cheeks, tells her otherwise. Silently, Annabeth paddles them back to shore. The moment they’re within reach of the sand, Calypso leaps again, her feet catching the water and hurrying out like it was poisonous. Atlas’ daughter is gone by the time Annabeth lands, no more than a distant speck on the horizon when she’s tied the raft to shore to stop it from floating away.

Annabeth spends the rest of the afternoon securing the mast and sails. Her rudder is decent, if rudimentary, and it is with careful hope that she tells Calypso at dinner that night, “I think I can head out tomorrow morning.”

Instantly, Calypso stiffens head to toe. “Impossible,” she says, voice oddly light despite the tense look on her face. “It was hardly more than a pile of sticks today.”

“We floated on it,” Annabeth reminds her. “I got the sail up, I’m sure you saw me. I want to give it a go tomorrow. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me out of your hair?”

Calypso pushes her plate away, even though Annabeth notices she’s hardly eaten a bite. “It’s risky. I don’t want your body washing up on my shores.”

Annabeth, ever prideful, feels a defense of her workmanship rising to her tongue, but Calypso is staring so intently at the table before her that the indignant words deflate before they’re ever spoken. Instead, she reaches over and places her hand lightly on Calypso’s shoulder. Again, her skin feels warm to the touch, even hot. Annabeth has the odd thought that if she kept her hands on Calypso for a long time, she could let that heat filter through her, warming her blood, making her feel alive again.

“It’s going to be alright,” Annabeth assures her. “Have some faith, won’t you? The gods won’t let me drown if they think there’s a chance I could rejoin the quest.”

“I have no faith in the gods,” Calypso spits out.

“How about me?” Annabeth asks.

A pause. “Yes.”

Annabeth breathes out. “They’ll call that blasphemy.”

She isn’t sure why she cares. As if she hasn’t spent enough time wondering why the gods care so little for their children. As if she hasn’t grown up enough to understand why Luke did what he did, and worse, to almost wish he had succeeded. Gods, she misses him all the time. Worse, she misses who she could have been if he had never left her at all.

“I’ll have you forgive me, then,” Calypso says crisply.

She stands suddenly. The invisible hands clear away her plate. “I’ll leave you to your meal.”

Gripped with a sudden fear, Annabeth reaches out, catching at her chiton. “Wait. Don’t.”

Calypso stops at once, like she had been waiting for it. “Why?”

Annabeth lifts a shoulder. “It’s our last day. Come on, you can stand to talk to me for one more night, can’t you?”

The ghost of a smile touches on Calypso’s lips, and she sits back down opposite Annabeth. “Well? What do you want to talk about?”

“You,” Annabeth says. “Tell me about the island. Your favorite parts, what you love, what you hate. The stuff the myths got wrong. I want to know everything.”

“Children of Athena,” Calypso muses teasingly, “You love your information, don’t you?”

Annabeth just laughs. “Give it to me, then, and I’ll stop asking.”

Calypso hums. “You’ve never stopped before.”

Still, she starts to talk, and although she’s a little nervous at first, the stories start to roll off her tongue, one after another. The visitors she’s had. The occasional visits from the gods. The dreams she gets, of her father and what her father sees. Calypso even mentions memories from before the first war with the gods, before she had been sentenced to Ogygia. There is no doubt that Calypso has experienced the highs and lows of immortality, and contains within her far more memories than most mortals, but Annabeth cannot shake the feeling that each story seems tinged with sadness. To be so far from her family, every other living soul– Annabeth wouldn’t want it for the world. Yet Calypso is trapped here regardless.

Calypso urges her to go to bed early that night to be ready for the next morning. Annabeth agrees, but cannot help but cast a final glance over the midnight beach. She’ll be glad to leave, obviously, but she’ll still miss the deep blue waves, and maybe see the pearlescent sands in her dreams in the months from now. She’ll lie fast asleep, dreaming of the closest she’d ever come to peace, walking a perfect paradise with a beautiful girl who laughed at her jokes and let Annabeth sink deep in her own mind when she needed it.

Despite an attempt to get some rest, Annabeth finds herself staying up late that night, not from lack of trying but a simple inability to calm her mind. She’s going to be gone from this place tomorrow, gone forever. That’s how the myth goes, isn’t it? Once a traveler leaves Ogygia, they can never find it again. Calypso has assured her of this many times, yet tonight, Annabeth cannot live with herself thinking it’s true.

It’s not the island she’s worried about missing, Annabeth realizes, it’s the girl. She doesn’t want to leave Calypso behind. It’s not pity for a life in chains, it’s a genuine regret. Calypso will forever be the most enchanting puzzle that Annabeth could never solve, and it will drive her mad her entire life.

This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. Annabeth is meant to escape and never think of this place again, but she can tell that won’t happen. The guilt and regret will eat her alive. Calypso, a million miles away, and Annabeth, unable to sleep without dreaming of a girl with skin like silk and an irresistible scent of cinnamon, coaxing at Annabeth’s laugh, pulling her under with one smile. This isn’t what she was supposed to do. But it happens anyway. Thus is the way of the demigods. It’s always a mortal, to think themselves beyond a prophecy. Annabeth is no exception. She never has been.

She remembers something Jason had told her once, cooped up on the Argo II waiting for the time to pass. Just because a story is expected to go one way doesn’t mean that’s how you want to tell it. He’d been talking about himself and Piper, how everyone expected them to stay together because they were young and decently attractive yet Jason didn’t want to play along with Hera’s plotline forever, but somehow Annabeth thinks the sentiment rings true for her, too.

When dawn comes, Annabeth forces herself to get up. Calypso has packed her a bag of fruit, water, and other essentials. They stand on the beach in front of the raft, but neither of them can move a muscle.

“You should go before it gets too hot,” Calypso whispers.

“I should,” Annabeth repeats.

She looks over at Calypso. The girl’s shoulders are firm and resolute, but all Annabeth can think about is a glass sculpture one touch away from shattering. She drops the bag of supplies on the ground and throws her arms around Calypso before she can be chastised for getting sand on the fruit. Calypso freezes one moment, then melts around her, tucking her face into Annabeth’s neck.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Calypso admits, her breath fluttering against Annabeth’s collarbone.

“I can take you with me,” Annabeth says. She’s almost begging now, pleading against her better judgment and the suppressing knowledge that there is nothing she can do. “They can’t stop me. You can come home with me. See the camp. See anything you want.”

Slowly, carefully, Calypso pulls herself away. Annabeth feels cold again. “You know I can’t,” Calypso whispers. Fresh tears begin to course over her cheeks, and even as Annabeth tries to wipe them away, more come anew.

“We can try,” Annabeth implores. “It’s a puzzle, I can solve it.”

“Not this one,” Calypso sighs. “You have to let me go. Now, before it’s too late.”

Annabeth opens her mouth to argue, but the sound of the waves lapping against something distracts her, and she turns to see that another raft has pulled up beside her makeshift one. Annabeth’s workmanship pales in comparison, but she doesn’t even care, because if the real one has come, then that means–

“You love me,” Annabeth says in a broken whisper.

Calypso nods, looking away. “You should go.”

“How can I?” Annabeth asks, voice threatening to crack. “How can I leave you like this?”

Calypso’s eyes latch on hers, suddenly firm. “You will, because they all do. Time will make it better. You’ll forget about this place.”

“I never will,” Annabeth vows. “I promise, I’ll come back for you. I don’t care that travelers can’t come back. The gods said male travelers, didn’t they? I’ve already broken the rules by being here. I’ll break them again. I will come back for you, Calypso. I’ll come back for you and you’ll never see this place again. Not even in your dreams.”

Calypso starts crying again, and Annabeth can’t bear it anymore. To stop it, she leans forward, meaning to wipe away the tears, but she forgets halfway through and kisses her instead, kisses the girl she’s had all to herself in paradise these past few weeks. Calypso tastes like her uncle’s stolen fire, like the burn of her father’s prophecies. Annabeth wants to spend the rest of her life kissing her, but Calypso is taking her by the wrists, pressing kisses to the veins then urging her towards the water. The tide is cold around her ankles. Annabeth wants Calypso to warm her up again. She thinks she’ll be cold her entire life if Calypso isn’t there beside her, hand in hers, eyes soft and careful.

The wind is picking up. “Now,” Calypso pleads. “Before they stop you.”

Annabeth forces herself onto the magical raft. “I’ll find you,” she shouts. “I promise.”

The sail catches at the gusts, snapping full and carrying her away. Calypso is turning into a distant freckle against the beach. She’s saying something, but Annabeth can’t hear over the sound of her own pleading. Just one more moment. Just one more word.

Ogygia is gone. The sea is all Annabeth knows. At some point, perhaps today, perhaps never, she’ll dock at a city in Malta. The others will find her. She’ll be okay, and she will spend every night dreaming of an island no one can find with a young woman no one knows. It will drive her mad, more than any puzzle or question ever has.

And then, on a day very far from now, Annabeth will sail a ship and get lost on purpose, so lost that she ends up at an island that no one can find. Someone will be waiting for her. Someone who isn’t afraid of being jailed anymore, and is more afraid that Annabeth can’t leave fast enough. The world will be saved, the earth goddess vanquished. The sky will be clear, and Calypso will never go back to Ogygia again. That, in the end, is all they’ve ever wanted, and they’ll get it, too. For once, the gods will smile on them. It will be perfect.

pjo tag list: @w1shes43, @fadedver, @anxiety-werewolf, @runawayprincesslily

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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