Chapter Text
Persephone Pallas Jackson wakes up on the first of August with drool on her cheek, her girlfriend sprawled over her, and the distinct feeling of a cut thread of fate.
The latter sensation takes some time to recall, since the last time was at a fruit stand. No need for old knitters this time—Percy’s got the feeling all on her own.
She wakes Annabeth with a kiss on her forehead. Annabeth snaps to attention before relaxing, giving Percy a gentle squeeze before starting to extricate herself.
They have too much to do today to just spend time alone together.
The Seven crowd into their mess hall, ignoring the projected images of impending war on the walls. Leo’s nervous chatter fills the silence, running through his plans for siege weaponry and letting his table run navigation.
The plan takes hold as they lay anchor in the Aegean, cloaking the ship in Mist. Leo will stay aboard, providing cover fire and drawing aerial assault. Jason, Hazel, and Frank can deal with a fall, so they will launch afterwards.
Piper, Annabeth, and Percy will sneak into the giants’ war camp and initiate the assault. If all goes to plan, keeping the boys in the air will prevent the completion of Gaea’s rise.
They have to hope that Reyna, Nico, and Coach Hedge have made it with the statue. That Nike, captured and rambling in the bottom of their ship, will find her wits and grant them victory.
That the gods will know they are needed and come to aid in the final fight against Gaea’s children.
Percy whispers, “As long as we’re together,” to Annabeth as they armor up, making their way to the gangplank to delve into ancient land.
The sense of impending doom never really fades as Percy, Annabeth and Piper trawl through the tunnels beneath Athens. Piper’s voice, singing the gemini into complacency, rings through with barely an echo, the magic of charmspeak convincing them to hide their approach.
It crawls up Percy’s spine with a shiver, a sense of wrongness that grows with each step. Even Annabeth’s hand held in hers is small comfort. She keeps her gaze forward, not acknowledging the grey-eyed gaze that tracks her movement.
To call it fear would be a disservice to all that it is. It is the anticipation, the building of potential before conflux. The waiting is almost painful, the fear no less. Yet an eerie calm has settled, not that of woven magic, but of certainty.
Percy kisses Annabeth deeply, embracing over the remains of her father’s gift to Athens. She speaks of a rivalry settled, of the thing that set them apart and yet brought them together. Piper’s eyes lock on them, a love proven true through trial after trial. It tickles at her mind that this may be the last embrace they share.
They make for the surface, stealthy in their approach, three girls hiding amongst the ruins as Gigantes discuss plans for war. It is a desperate gamble, a hope that they can avert the bloodshed that herald’s Gaea’s return.
The battle kicks off with a cry, torn from Annabeth’s throat as Periboia lifts her into the air, arms trapped at her side.
Percy loses herself in the haze, calling the waters and shaking the earth, Anaklusmos slashing through giants with alacrity.
(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)
The Argo II fires down from the sky just as the giants corner the trio upon the stones of the Acropolis. Annabeth bleeds upon ancient stones and calls to the boys to not make contact with the Earth as they fight.
(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)
Jason calls lightning as he soars on the wind, the skies darkening with each violent strike. Frank, fluid of form, sends arrows in between blows as an eagle, a lion, a dragon. Leo fires rounds of flaming ballistae, making cover that the giants cannot ignore. Hazel darts through on Arion, the Mist swirling in her wake. Piper cuts through the confusion, leading the giants in a trail directly to her and Annabeth’s blades. Percy summons a hurricane, wind and water in concert as she tears across the battlefield, aiding each of her friends in kind.
(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)
The tides turn with the storm, the heroes beating the Giants back to the stones of their new birthplace. What seemed an endless horde becomes reforming piles of earth that sweep towards the false throne set atop the Acropolis.
Jason, Hazel, and Frank corral the wayward giants before the Parthenon for Leo to fire down at them from above, as Annabeth and Piper dart between, striking at weak points and clearing the field. Percy holds the furious storm, every ounce of power going towards dispersing the giants and disrupting their connection with the earth.
Her friends fight their way through the whirlwind as giants are hurled from the top of the hill, seeking Percy in the hopes of a final stand. She cannot hold the storm forever. There is only enough time to get to a high point and hope they can maintain the advantage.
(there is no triumphant return of the gods, no chariots from the sky)
(the giants cannot be defeated without the aid of a god)
(if no god comes to call, what is left except to make one?)
Annabeth is the only one to make it in time, to call to the others to avert their eyes, to reach out and touch Percy as her blood runs gold.
(as long as we’re together)
A flash rings out over the battlefield, vaporizing the giants where they stand and leaving the Seven to be coated in golden dust.
(be careful what you wish for)
When the dust settles, Annabeth lies collapsed on the ground, eyes empty. Blood stains her hands, falling from the shoulder once scarred by a poisoned blade.
And Percy is gone.