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drewlover · 3 months

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annabeth is first introduced to eve at school. her teacher—ms. honey—had given her a bible. no one had told her it was for religious purposes, or that someday the idea of it would be so ridiculous to her, so she just treated it like any other story, another poem-of-sorts to be read and analyzed.

she barely makes it past genesis—there was only so much a six-year-old's attention span could take, no matter how smart the said six-year-old was. perhaps it had felt wrong, too, older forces making the wind cooler and the book harder to read, century-old jealousy rearing its head.

but annabeth was annabeth, and she took on challenges better than most. she finished genesis and gave it back to her teacher.

"eve is like me," is all she says when she gives it back to ms. honey.

ms. honey nods and smiles. "yes, darling. she is a woman, and as brave and beautiful as you will be."

annabeth nods. she doesn't tell ms. honey that the only similarity she's noticed between herself and eve was that eve did not have a mother, either.

her father is a good parent. the thing is, annabeth doesn't really know what a good parent is, but her father is kind. he doesn't raise his voice at her, and he smiles absently and nods when she says something. he never forgets to put a side a smaller serving on a smaller plate whenever he eats, even though he barely remembers to.

she tells him about eve, and tells him that she is like her. she doesn't notice the way his hands grip his pen tighter when she says the word 'mother'.

she doesn't understand why her father won't bring her to church, either.

annabeth is seven when her mother first speaks to her. she's been on the streets for so long, and she's tired. the spiders keep following. the monsters keep following. she's alone, and so, so hungry.

"annabeth."

the voice is stern—there is no warmth in them. sterile. cool. precise. annabeth looks up.

somehow, she knows. "mother."

her mother looks her up and down, but makes no move to go closer. a cap appears in front of annabeth—old and worn, yet heavy, still. a gift from her mother. she takes it, and her hands tremble.

athena notices. her mouth forms a sneer, but no insult comes out of her mouth. "do me proud," she says instead, like a seven-year-old will understand, like a child will understand.

yet athena still flows through annabeth's veins, and she nods. athena disappears, and there is nothing left—just the slightest ripple of a breeze. the monsters come, still, and the spiders soon follow. athena doesn't come back.

annabeth wonders if her mother gifts her invisibility so that she will never have to see annabeth again.

the invisibility cap hasn't worked in over a year. the first time it doesn't work she's caught of guard, and the scorpion hits her on the shoulder, already weakened from the time during the battle of manhattan. it takes the combined force of her, chiron, and will to stop percy from storming olympus and destroying her mother's temple.

"why would she give something just to take it away?" percy asked her, eyebrows furrowed with anger. he's a hurricane in her arm, fingers trembling and veins thrumming.

annabeth doesn't answer, but she knows. this is her mother, telling her that annabeth needs to be seen.

annabeth is nineteen years old when she renounces her mother, and the pain is bone deep.

she does it in rome, where her mother had sent her in a fit of anger, sending her daughter to execute her revenge. take back the mark of athena. make your mother proud.

athena had sent her there, a pig raised for slaughter.

she had braved tartarus. the gods, no matter their cruelty, held no power over her now.

her mother had always been one of the crueler ones.

"you renounce me? you dare?"

annabeth could feel her blood thrumming in her veins, threatening to burst out. athena was barely keeping her essence in—annabeth could see her skin burning gold, on the precipice of shifting to her godly form. everything was blurring around the edges—athena was barely holding on to her disguise. despite everything, she refuses to incinerate annabeth. a small act of mercy.

"yes mother. i dare." she could feel the blood soaking her teeth, could taste it's metallic tang on her tongue. the air grew hotter.

"you would not have me on your side. you will never gain back my alliance, annabeth. do you dare?"

annabeth laughed, and somewhere she knew dionsyus was chuckling in delight at the traces of insanity in it. blood trickled down her chin and onto the ground, but it did not sizzle. the blood wasn't an offering to athena. it was an act of defiance.

athena's most successful warrior—whose blood no longer belonged to her.

"very well," athena said eyes flashing gold. "you are no longer my daughter. greek land will reject your blood. no longer will you be accepted into our world, and no longer will you be mine."

annabeth felt the bones in both her legs crack, but she refused to let out the scream of anguish struggling to be let out of her throat. refused to give athena the satisfaction of knowing that this hurt her as much as it hurt the goddess.

all at once the goddess disappeared, and annabeth was left alone in the middle of rome.

she looked up. it was a church, and it was beautiful.

eve looked down at her, with her frightened eyes and trembling hands wrapped around the apple.

the apple that had gifted her knowledge. the apple that had taken away everything from eve. the apple that had gifted humanity freedom.

annabeth had never been more like her.

#throws this at you #hi guys..#me: i will finish chinese satellite ch. 3 #also me: proceeds to write something else #annabeth chase #character study #drabble #and fawk u athena !#based of renunciation of parents. except make it mothers !#this was so rushed yall im so sorry. hope u guys like it anyway #my writing

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annabethy · 1 year

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aurora // a 'tis the damn season au

Percy and Annabeth had something real. They fell in love somewhere between bookstore kittens and vintage novels with pages tinted yellow with time, and they were happy. It’s rare, finding the type of love they did. It’s even more rare making it last. Read on AO3. (Chapter 2/8)

Percy thinks that as much as he enjoys working in a bookstore, it can get pretty boring.

The boredom winds up mainly because Annabeth seems to be absent today. She typically hangs around while he works, curled up on a beanbag by the window with a new novel in her hands. It’s a cute sight, and he recalls when he used to do the same thing when he was younger, minus the reading. When it was just him and his mom, she couldn’t always afford to stay home on days he was sick and couldn’t go to school, so he grew used to the corner beanbag and the feeling of sunlight filtering on his skin. He’s gotten used to Annabeth sitting in that same spot too, and though he’s reassured her before that she doesn’t always need to accompany him after school, she does it anyway.

He keeps eyeing the front door, and the shop is so slow that he decides to sit on the counter stool, still staring miserably at the window.

It’s the day after Christmas, so it makes sense that she’s probably busy, but also, she’d spent the entire previous day with him and he swears she told him that she would hang around for a bit.

He tilts his head.

Maybe she got caught in the snow. From what he can see through the foggy windows, it’s snowing heavily. There’s at least six inches of snow stacked up along the sidewalk, more where it’s been plowed to the edges of the roads, so it’s possible. Still more likely that she ghosted him, though.

He spots movement in the corner of his eye, and when he turns his head, the cat is peering at him from behind the corner of the counter. She almost appears unthreatening, which she is for the most part to everyone except him, so he lets her slowly patter closer to him. When she makes her way onto the counter and transfers onto his lap, he’s slightly convinced this is a bookstore cat imposter, but he runs her tail through his hand anyway, scratching behind Maisie’s ears.

“You’re being nice,” he murmurs, so no one in the store thinks he’s lost it. “Must mean Annabeth is nearby. You’re never nice to me.”

His words are accompanied with a small nip at his fingers, but he doesn’t think she meant it to hurt, so he lets it slide. Like him, the cat stretches out to watch the door. It’s sweet, knowing the cat is waiting for Annabeth, and also slightly eerie knowing that the cat must also have some sense of time to know she should arrive soon.

“Maybe she’s not coming,” Percy says to the cat. “She’s probably realized you have a double life and are secretly a wanted war criminal.” He hums. “You’ve scared her away. Hope you’re happy.”

Being alone in the bookstore is troubling his sanity, it seems. He’s speaking to a cat.

“It’s just you and me, babe.” He sighs and looks away from the door to gaze at the cat. He’s met with wide eyes back at him, blinking slowly. “And I don’t even like you.”

Of course that’s when the bells above the door chime as it’s pushed open.

“Finally befriending the cat?”

“I was telling her about how I planned to hunt her,” he replies without looking up. “She’s shaking in fear.”

“I’m sure,” she laughs, suddenly in front of him on the other side of the counter. He looks up at her then, and she looks like such a mess that he snickers right in her face. She frowns. “Shut up.”

“What happened?” Percy chokes, letting his right hand leave the cat’s back to smooth down her hair. Her curls are still dotted in thick snowflakes, though they’re rapidly melting, and her cheeks are rosy to the point he’s sure it hurts. “Did you just come back from war?”

“Have you stepped foot outside? I almost got blown away walking down the street.” She comes to the other side of the counter to steal the cat from his arms. She ignores him for a moment, shoving her face into the blonde cat before lifting up to look at him again. She does look overwhelmed, but it’s also adorable how flushed she is. “You should just be glad I came at all.”

“You may as well not have come at all,” he says, glancing at the clock mounted above the door. “I’m only on shift for another thirty minutes.”

“Perfect. We can talk after that.”

“Talk?” His brows furrow. “What about?”

“Your denial of love for Maisie,” she says. “It’s getting old. We both know you love her.”

There’s something…off.

Her voice is smooth in a way he knows she’s purposely making it. She doesn’t sound upset, but it’s not the way she normally speaks, and it makes him think maybe there’s a reason she had been late.

He wants to question it, but she doesn’t give him the chance to dwell on it before she continues on.

“Anyway, I’ll hang around the back if that’s alright,” she says. The cat jumps onto the counter from his lap to stare at Annabeth, even giving her what looked like a chastising meow. Annabeth has always been much fonder of the cat than he is, but he still adores the way she softly brushes Maisie’s back before bending to kiss between the kitten’s eyes.

“You could say hello to me first, you know,” Percy says blankly, watching her kiss Maisie again.

“Well, I would, but I much prefer Maisie’s company.”

Despite that, she leans over the counter for a kiss. Who is he to deny her?

The rest of his shift is boring, and it seems to drag on for eternity knowing that Annabeth is somewhere behind him while he is forced to stay at the front. He does consider going to steal the cat who followed her to the back so that she returns to his side, but even that seems cruel. She’d probably take the cat back and put them in a loop of thievery.

By the time he’s able to leave, he’s practically bouncing in anticipation. He’s quick to take his name tag off and move to the back room in search of his girlfriend. All things considered, this bookstore would make an excellent location for hide and seek because he doesn’t immediately see her. The room is crowded, shelves of boxes filled with books he’d been too lazy to put out quite yet, and she could be hiding behind any one of them, but that would also be a little odd of her to do.

He stares at the empty room, and then at the small staircase up to the roof where the door is propped open with a new copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

“I don’t mind if you want to sit on the roof, but is destroying my books really necessary?” he calls out, pushing the door open and finding Annabeth sitting against the cement railing.

“How else were you meant to know I was out here?”

“Like you don’t sit up here every other day,” he says. It’s a semi-true statement. They used to come up here a lot in the summer and just lay with their hands intertwined, looking up at the clouds and finding shapes in the nonsensical patterns. As it got colder, they stopped going as often. As far as he knows, Annabeth mainly finds her way up here when she needs a quiet place to run through her thoughts.

Annabeth laughs as he steps out further onto the roof. It’s covered in a layer of snow, and he nearly fell over with the first step he took. She’s wrapped in her coat, and also a blanket that she’d stolen from the back, sitting on the ground in an area where she brushed away the snow. Beneath the blanket, he spots a small black nose and a singular eye peering back at him.

“You kidnapped the cat?” he asks, amused.

“She followed me,” Annabeth says. “It’s not my fault she can’t handle the cold.”

Percy laughs, and Annabeth lets go of the cat anyway.

“Let Maisie back inside, will you?”

He holds the door open as Annabeth releases the cat from her arms, letting the cat pass through before removing the book and letting the door click shut.

She glances at him, amused. “Did you just lock us out?”

“That door doesn’t lock,” he says, coming closer to her.

“That’s a pretty big threat. What if someone broke in and stole all your books?”

“Well, aside from my mother, you’re the only person that knows the door doesn’t lock. I’m looking right at my number one suspect.”

“An unlocked door to a bookshop is practically an invitation,” she defends. “Am I at least allowed to take them if I promise to return them?”

He hovers above her, giving her a lopsided grin. She smiles back before resuming looking out in the distance. As she’s looking at the quickly darkening sky, covered in low hanging dark clouds, shadows looming over the opposite buildings, he never stops looking at her. She pointedly tries to look anywhere else.

“Are you okay?”

Annabeth shrugs, but her lips quirk up. “Aren’t you sick of the snow?”

“It gets annoying.” He nudges her knee gently with his foot. “Easier to handle when you’re not sitting in it.”

She doesn’t respond to that. Instead, she continues looking out over the building, tightening the blanket around herself. He stays standing above her for a few moments before deciding to settle down next to her. She opens up to him immediately, letting him into the warmth of the blanket and tucking her head against the right side of his chest.

Together, they look out in the distance. There’s not too much visible with the fog the clouds offer and the haze the falling snow creates, but he doesn’t say anything for a few minutes until he notices her shallow breathing like she’s trying not to cry and concern takes over.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m great,” she says, her head still heavy against him.

Percy adjusts the blanket around her shoulders softly. “Then why are we sitting out here?”

“I don’t know why you’re sitting out here,” she says. “I’m sitting here because I wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“Did something happen?”

“Something always happens in that house,” she says bitterly.

And his heart aches.

He’s held her in his arms at night listening to her sob enough times to know what surviving in that house is doing to her. He knows that her dad treats her as though nothing is never enough, and he knows that Annabeth always continues to try anyway. It never ends well, and he desperately wants her to not have to put up with it, but Annabeth is the most beautiful person he knows, in love with the idea of miracles and families finding their way back to each other like in novels written by people with the same dreams. Some part of her remains with the childlike hope that she’ll earn her father’s approval.

She never does.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He can see the thoughts running through her mind, a glimmer of something real, something hopeful. Despite herself, she smiles, like she’s imagining they’re somewhere else, and asks, “Why don’t we leave?”

Percy laughs, confused. “What?”

“California.”

And he’s always dreamed of a life with her, but he’s never imagined that his fantasies would lead him away from his home.

“Can you imagine it?” she breathes. “It wouldn’t get this cold, so we wouldn’t have to constantly run around in the snow. It’s so pretty there, and, oh, the beaches. You would love it there.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful there,” he agrees hesitantly. “I like it here too.”

She nudges his arms. “Oh, come on. Be adventurous. We could take a road trip there when we move, and we could stop at different monuments. I know you always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. You could go to school with me too.”

Percy smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “What’s going on? You’ve never mentioned wanting to leave before.”

She’s silent, biting her lower lip until it begins to bleed. There’s an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach because her theoretical words don’t seem too theoretical. Her words are real, and he knows something’s not right.

“My dad and I got in a fight,” she says. “Once I graduate, he wants me out. I have nothing left for me here, but I was thinking…we could leave. Both of us.”

Percy furrows his brows. “But…your dad won’t actually kick you out, will he?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

Percy grabs her hand, squeezing comfortingly. “Even if that were to happen, my mom loves you. She would never leave you without a place to stay. Don’t worry too much about it.”

That’s a life he can imagine. He can see them a year from now, living together, Annabeth spending her days writing while he works, creating their own home, even if it means living with the cat that he doesn’t like (except maybe he likes the cat just a little bit). He wants that life.

“You’re not listening to me.” Annabeth laughs incredulously, pressing the base of her palms against her eyes. “I want to leave.”

“Why?” He tries really hard to be gentle to not scare her. “This is our home.”

“This is your home.” She sits up now, turning in her position on the ground to face him. “I grew up here, but this isn’t my home. My dad doesn’t even want me, and he’s not going to stick around once I’m eighteen. There’s no point in me staying here.”

A stab of hurt runs through him. “I’m here.”

Annabeth takes a deep breath, and there’s a shift between them. The few feet that rest between them seems to span a mile.

“That internship I mentioned,” she says. “The one in California. I just heard back from them, and they’re offering me a position there. I wasn’t going to take it, but then with everything going on with my dad…I can’t be here anymore.”

Percy laughs because he’s not sure what else to do. He waits a moment for her to say something, to start laughing and tell him it’s all a joke, but she doesn’t. She only stares expectantly.

“You’re serious?”

“I am.” She reaches out to rest her hand on his knee, pleading. “Come with me.”

“California, Annabeth. That’s the opposite side of the country.”

“We could figure it out,” she says. “We have time. We could plan to get an apartment, and we’d bring Maisie with us.”

Percy’s an impulsive person. He’s always been bad with blurting things out before he has time to think about the implications of what he’s really saying. It’s for that reason that he almost says yes. He almost agrees to move across the country without thinking of the consequences. He almost drops everything to chase down a daydream because this is his girlfriend and he loves her. It’s a type of love he thought he’d never find, and he’s not willing to let that go quite yet.

Then, he remembers his mother and how she spent her life supporting him on her own, never having the means to provide for him yet somehow doing it anyway. His mom found love again, had another baby less than a year ago, and she needs help now, and he’s actually old enough to provide that help, and he can’t leave. Not after everything his mother has done for him.

“Let’s not do this right now,” he says. “It’s December. You can try talking to your dad, or we can start looking for somewhere to live. Maybe in a few months, things will be different.”

Annabeth smiles sadly. “It won’t be different.”

No, no, please, no.

“I’m going to LA, Percy.”

“Annabeth, please.”

And then Annabeth’s crying because somehow, they both know how this ends. “Come with me. Please don’t make me go alone.”

He knows that’s her way of saying she’s going regardless of if he follows.

Percy sees the end as it begins. He thinks he knows how these next few months are going to go. She’ll accompany him to work, reading words because it’s easier to drown out her own worries. They’ll pretend that she’s not going to leave if he decides not to follow, except she will leave and he won’t follow. There will come a point that she stops joining him at work and he stops picking her up outside her class. She’ll say goodbye to her friends and he’ll be left in the bookshop watching time move on as snow falls down, wondering if she’ll show up to say goodbye to him too. He’ll never find out because he’ll stop working nights. If she shows up, he won’t want to know because he will have watched her walk away to the opposite side of the country knowing that he can’t follow.

As he looks in her eyes, he knows that’s how it will go.

Still, he tries.

“I have my family here,” he says. “I grew up here, and my mom needs me. I have people here.”

There’s a flash of something unfamiliar in her eyes. It’s not anger, but something softer, like she knew it was going to end like this too, like she wasn’t ready for this moment to come. The only problem is that time is not fond of slowing down. Not for him, and not for anyone.

He tries to silently plead for her not to go, to remind her that her father’s opinion should mean nothing, but Annabeth has always wanted to write words that mean something, and it’s hard to do that somewhere she feels she hardly means anything herself, and so even he knows there’s no avoiding what comes next.

“Stay,” he begs.

“I don’t have anyone else, Percy.”

“You have me.”

Annabeth’s crying now, and she can’t look him in the eyes. All she can do is look in the distance from where they sit on the roof, where the sky remains gray, a color he used to find so comforting when looking into her eyes in the darkness of the night. The color seems awful and sad now, forcing him to be estranged from her.

“I can’t do it,” she says, wiping her nose. “I can’t stay here. I love you, and I’m not going to make you come with me, but I can’t—”

Those are thoughts that have been passing through her mind for months. Where Percy is spontaneous, Annabeth is not. She thinks things through, weighing them, and for her to reach the point that she feels suffocated here…he hadn’t known. He wishes he had. Maybe then things would be different.

“I can’t leave here,” Percy whispers.

Annabeth locks eyes with him. He takes it in, suddenly terrified of where they’re going to go.

Correction: where she’s going to go, and where he knows he can’t follow.

“And I can’t stay.”

#percy jackson #percabeth #my writing #annabeth chase #pls tell me ur thoughts i have heard no thoughts and i demand thoughts #ch 2 babey!!

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