Okay, so here's the thing.

I cannot be the only person who was really, really disappointed with the way Percy and Annabeth were portrayed in Blood of Olympus. It made them into side characters who, compared to the rest, were utterly incompetent.

I choose to put this down to Tartarus trauma. But since we didn't have their POVs, there's no way to know if that's true. And their portrayal in this - the last book of a series in which they both played pivotal roles - was tremendously disappointing.

So, this story is the scenes in which they appear - plus a few extras - told from their perspective. This is my attempt to rectify the wrongs that (I feel) were done to their characters in the book.

I liked the book, yes. But I did not like the way my favorite characters were portrayed in it.

This story is canon. I will not be changing any dialogue, or any characters. I do not want to take away from the amazingness that is Piper, Jason, Hazel, Frank, Nico, Reyna, or Leo.

But, I do want to give Percy and Annabeth their due.

So, this.

...

Annabeth hated the plan.

It wasn't that the plan was bad. It was a good plan – after all, Annabeth herself had helped to concoct it. And it was rare that she hated her own plans, but this one –

She'd just returned from Tartarus. She and Percy had gotten a few days back in the light, back with the crew of the ship. A few days to recover – but they couldn't have as long as she'd wanted to. To be fair, no time would have been long enough.

But the Seven didn't have the luxury of any time at all. Gaea was going to wake in days' time, and it wasn't like she and Percy could spend days – weeks – months – in the tropics, soaking up the sun and letting it heal them. No, they had to jump right back into battle plans and preparing, and even though plans were Annabeth's forte, she wasn't ready.

Not to mention that if she were going to do any mission, she'd much rather have it be one where she could fight, could vent all the bitterness and anger she felt towards monsters and gods alike. She didn't want to have to dress in a pretty outfit, pin her hair back in a fancy style, and pretend that she was delighted to be serving awful old ghost suitors who shouldn't be here in the first place.

Nevertheless, that was what she was doing right now, and she hated it.

The only one who might possibly hate this plan more than she did was Jason, and that was only because he was cloaked in Mist thick enough to make him look and feel like an old man. The way he groaned and wheezed as they picked their way up the path showed that he wasn't the biggest fan of this plan, either. Nonetheless, Annabeth still felt prickly with irritation, like no one could possibly hate this plan more than she did.

"Almost there," said Piper soothingly. "You're doing great."

Of the three of them on this mission, Annabeth envied Piper the most. She looked comfortable and lovely in her white dress and perfect hair – as much as she might like to deny it, Piper had been born to wear beautiful clothes and make people fall for her. Not to mention her charmspeak. She was the best actress in the group, for the simple reason that she was able to persuade anyone of anything.

Annabeth tried not to be irritated with her friend. It wasn't Piper's fault that Annabeth felt so uncomfortable and angry all the time. It wasn't Piper's problem that dark thoughts swirled constantly in Annabeth's brain, that she had barely slept a wink since she'd escaped Tartarus, that she wanted to be anywhere but here, wearing anything but this gown that screamed subservient, charming, carefree.

Not to mention that she felt so jumpy all the time, not safe anywhere, not even in her own head –

Jason stopped suddenly, slumped against a tree. "Worst. Idea. Ever." He gasped for air. "Hazel's magic is too good. If I have to fight, I'll be useless."

"It won't come to that." The irrational part of Annabeth, the bitter part, almost wanted it to. But she was a child of Athena, and her logic was stronger. She knew that fighting would be a bad idea, and even if it meant she had to suck up to some greedy, lecherous suitor ghosts, it was what she'd have to do. "We infiltrate the palace, we get the information that we need, and we get out." Instinctively, she groped for where her dagger would have been sheathed, and remembered – yet again – that it wasn't there. Something stabbed uncomfortably at her heart. She'd had that dagger for forever. And yes, she had her new sword, and she'd prize it forever as a memory of Damasen. But she'd always preferred fighting with a knife, and with the loss of her dagger she felt as though the last remnant of Luke was truly gone from her.

Well, except for sometimes. Except for those times when she looked into Percy's eyes and saw Luke looking back instead.

She swallowed, and focused on Piper, who was lowering her amphora to the ground. "We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason."

Annabeth set her amphora down, too, as Jason gulped in air, muttering something under his breath. She didn't like not moving. It was when she was still that the memories would start catching up to her. To distract herself, she cast her gaze around, trying not to remember that her eyes, too, were not constants.

It was a curse, she reminded herself. You're not blind.

"You sure this is the right hill?" Jason's voice yanked her thankfully out of her thoughts. "Seems kind of . . . I don't know, quiet."

Piper reassured him, and Annabeth listened, still looking around. She couldn't tell if the uneasiness she felt was because of the suitors ahead, or if it was just a residual effect of Tartarus. She felt uneasy all the time, really. There was nothing special about today.

"I hope our disguises hold up." Better to turn her attention to practical concerns. "The suitors were nasty customers when they were alive. If they find out we're demigods" –

"Hazel's magic will work," promised Piper.

Annabeth didn't have as much experience with Hazel's Mist as the other two did, because, oh yeah, she'd been hanging out with her boyfriend in the depths of Tartarus. At least Coach Hedge hadn't tried to ground them before he left – though neither of them would have stood for it at this point.

But that was beside the point. She decided to trust them.

"Well, if I look as old as I feel, my disguise must be perfect. Let's get going." Jason broke Annabeth out of her train of thought again.

She led the way, with Jason safe in the middle and Piper bringing up the rear. They climbed in silence for a few more moments, until the crest of the hill was in sight.

"Almost there," she remarked. "Let's" –

The loud rumble cut her off, and she flinched. Then she realized it was just the suitors.

"What was that explosion?" came Jason's voice from behind her.

"Don't know, but it sounds like they're having fun." Piper set a hand on Jason's shoulder as Annabeth turned. "Let's go make some dead friends."

...

When they arrived at the palace, Annabeth thought she was seeing double.

She could see the ruins, the broken-down remains of the palace. But over it, she could see the image of what the palace had once been, the walls and the fountain and the tables, and the suitors.

Hundreds of suitors, ghosts, milling around, laughing, running, chasing serving maidens – Annabeth swallowed back a gag of disgust – it was a party, and it was revolting. Annabeth knew that the suitors were horrible alive and dead, but she couldn't help the anger that swelled up in her. She'd just escaped the depths of Tartarus and these ghosts were celebrating and gorging themselves and just – ugh.

"That guy just disintegrated my dad." Annabeth knew Jason wasn't a huge fan of his father, but she noticed the indignation in his voice. "Who does he think he is?"

Annabeth looked for the ghost and noticed the arrow in his neck. "I'm guessing that's Antinous, one of the suitors' leaders. If I remember right, it was Odysseus who shot him through the neck with that arrow." Right about now, she would have been happy to repeat the action, but she knew it would completely defeat her purpose.

"You'd think that would keep a guy down," muttered Piper. "What about all the others? Why are there so many?"

Annabeth shrugged. "I don't know. Newer recruits for Gaea, I guess. Some must've come back to life before we closed the Doors of Death. Some are just spirits." She remembered that ghastly elevator ride with Percy, all of her strength going into holding the doors closed –

"Some are ghouls," Jason added. "The ones with the gaping wounds and the gray skin, like Antinous . . . I've fought their kind before."

"Can they be killed?" Piper started messing with her hair.

"Not easily. They're strong and fast and intelligent. Also, they eat human flesh."

"Fantastic." Annabeth couldn't fight the bitterness in her voice. "I don't see any option except to stick to the plan. Split up, infiltrate, find out why they're here. If things go bad" –

"We use the backup plan," Piper finished.

They stood there in silence for a moment, gazing down at the ghouls. Then, Jason took a deep breath. "Be careful down there," he said, and they parted.

...

It was easy to slip into the crowd. Annabeth just joined a few specters and pretended she was one of them. Piper was already in character, pouring wine for the ghouls and charming them with her voice and her smile. For as reluctant as she'd started out, the girl had learned how to work her beauty.

Annabeth, on the other hand, had no interest in being charming. She wasn't as tolerant – or as good an actress – as Piper. If any of these ghosts tried any flirting with her, she couldn't be held responsible for what she might do. So she set to work taking their plates – a job which required much less interaction.

She tried to take in details of their surroundings so she'd be ready for a fight, and tried not to think about how much she wanted Percy here right now.

He'd wanted to come with them, but it made more sense for him to stay back. Three was the optimal number for a quest, and he had to watch the sea, anyway. He'd tried to talk Annabeth out of going, to convince her to send someone else, but she'd put on a brave face. "I can survive without you for a day, Seaweed Brain," she'd teased.

"Of course you can," was his reply. "You're Annabeth. You can do everything. But I still worry."

"I know." She'd kissed him. "But I'll come back to you. You know that."

Annabeth didn't want to be codependent. She'd never wanted to be in one of those relationships where she couldn't function without the other person. But she'd always been at her best when Percy was by her side, and after Tartarus she liked being apart even less.

She snapped out of it, jerking her mind back into the present. With one half of her brain, she paid attention to Jason and the conversation he was having with the ghosts. With most of the remaining half, she kept an eye on Piper, who was doing just fine. Gathering empty plates was easy enough that it required almost no concentration. And focusing on other things kept her mind off of Tartarus and Percy.

Suddenly, she noticed that the Mist around Jason was thinning. He was probably wavering, weakening the power of the magic. He needed a distraction, needed to snap out of it, and fast.

Annabeth grabbed a pitcher of wine out of the hand of the nearest spectral girl. The girl complained, but one of the suitors wrapped an arm around her and she squealed. Her lip curling in disgust, Annabeth turned towards Jason.

As she approached, she did her best to plaster a sweet smile on her face. It probably looked more like a grimace, but she approached Antinous anyway. "More wine, my lord?" She dumped the pitcher onto his neck. "Oops!" She tried to giggle girlishly.

The ghoul let out a cry. "Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?"

"A Titan, my lord." Annabeth's insides clenched at the truth of her words. The best one that ever was. "May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping."

"Begone!"

Annabeth did her best to give Jason an encouraging look, and then went to continue her duties.

She couldn't hear everything that Jason was saying, but she heard enough – and the rest, she trusted Jason to remember. He was the main player here. She was just part of the plan.

But when Jason prepared to leave, she took notice. She started scanning the area, figuring out the best place to slip out in Jason's wake – and then the ghost of Michael Varus said, "Wait. You must stay."

Annabeth froze, her stomach curling.

"What's the problem, legionnaire?" asked Antinous. "If Iros wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!"

Annabeth's whole body went tense. She was standing right beside the serving platter – her hand closed around a carving knife. It wasn't her dagger, but it would do.

"I lost my cohort twice in Alaska," mused Varus. "Once in life, once in death to a Graecus named Percy Jackson." Annabeth's gut twisted at the name. "Still I have come here to answer Gaia's call. Do you know why?"

"Stubbornness?" suggested Jason, and he sounded so much like Percy that Annabeth almost smiled.

"It is a place of longing." Annabeth listened as the conversation continued, uneasiness building in her stomach. Something was going to happen, soon –

"Someone has come for you, Jason Grace," said Varus, and Annabeth could barely process the fact that their cover had been blown before Varus beckoned a ghost forward. A ghost who looked so much like one of Annabeth's best friends that her blood ran cold.

"My dearest," said the ghost – the ghost of Thalia's and Jason's mother, "you have come home."

Jason froze. His mouth gaped, he looked at the ghost, and Annabeth's heart suddenly ached for Thalia – though she knew the Hunter would want anything but to be here. "Dearest," the woman repeated, and Jason's disguise fell away, revealing him in all his glory.

"Mom?" His voice was lost and wavery.

"Yes, dearest. Come, embrace me."

"You're you're – not real."

"Of course she is real." Annabeth wanted to punch Varus. "Did you think Gaia would let such an important spirit languish in the Underworld? She is your mother, Beryl Grace," – so now Annabeth knew Thalia's mother's name; the other girl had never told her – "star of television, sweetheart to the king of Olympus, who rejected her not once but twice, in both his Greek and Roman aspects. She deserves justice as much as any of us."

Jason looked frozen, under a spell. Piper broke it with her voice. "Jason, look at me. That isn't your mother. Her voice is working some kind of magic on you – like charmspeak, but more dangerous. Can't you sense it?"

"She's right." Annabeth didn't like being down here, surrounded; she wanted a better view. Kicking at a plate – the loud noise seemed to bring Jason to his senses – she hoisted herself onto the table. "Jason, that's only a remnant of your mother, like an ara, maybe, or" –

Jason snapped out of it. He made his stand, remembered who he was. He spoke to Varus, belittled him. Annabeth tensed up, knowing the suitors were ready to attack. But Piper interrupted again, before they could fight. "Beware! Every man in this palace is your enemy! Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance."

They all knew it was true; the suitors began to eye one another with unease. Annabeth kept her eyes on them as Jason spoke to his mother. Annabeth saw Thalia's old bitterness in her brother's eyes.

"You're a mania," he said, and Annabeth knew he was right. "A spirit of insanity. That's what you've been reduced to."

"I am all that remains," confirmed the ghost. "Embrace me, son. I am all that you have left."

Suddenly, Jason's eyes were on Annabeth – so much like his sister's that it hurt. "No," he said, and his voice was strong. "My loyalties haven't changed. My family has just expanded." Annabeth flashed back to Thalia, telling her and Luke that they were a family better than hers had been. "I'm a child of Greece and Rome – I'm no child of yours."

He made the sign warding off evil, and his mother disappeared.

But it wasn't over. Annabeth kept her eyes on the suitors.

"Well, then, I guess we'll just kill you," remarked Antinous offhandedly, and the fight began.

...

In a strange sense, Annabeth was almost relieved.

Her nerves had been humming the whole time, her whole body taut with unease. It felt good to break out of that and take action.

She brought her hand holding the carving knife up and hurled it as hard as she could, watching with a little satisfaction as it skewered one suitor right through the neck and pinned him up against the wall until he disintegrated. Her throw had been so hard that the knife stuck, trembling, in a little crevice of the wall. While the suitors in her immediate area glanced around, distracted, Annabeth drew her sword.

Grabbing one more carving knife from the serving platter, she leaped off the table, kicking a suitor in the head as she dropped to the ground. While he was dazed, she stabbed him with the knife.

She didn't wait around to watch him disintegrate. As a few more suitors charged her, she swept her sword out in a wide arc, vaporizing one after another. For every suitor that she cut down, she thought, For Damasen. For Bob.

A line of pain bit into her neck; she lashed out instinctively with her sword and turned just in time to see another ghost crumble into dust. A muffin flew over her head, and while one of the suitors was distracted, she sliced through him, too.

Soon enough, they had all fallen away to nothingness, and she stabbed the last one in the chest.

She turned to the others – just in time to see Jason drop to his knees, and hear Piper cry out his name.

He'd been skewered – stabbed right through the middle. For some reason, seeing the bleeding mortal wound made Annabeth think of Percy, with blood soaking through his shirt on both sides, after cutting down the arai –

No. This wasn't Percy, this was Jason, and he was – he was – "Gods," choked Annabeth. "Oh, gods."

"Thanks – I was afraid it might be bad."

"You're going to be fine." Piper's charmspeak seemed to convince Jason, but it didn't affect Annabeth. She was too busy staring at the wound and panicking and trying to remember where she was – "Annabeth, ambrosia!"

"Yeah." Annabeth almost tripped over her tongue. "Yeah, I got it." She pulled it out of her pouch and started breaking off little pieces. Piper was bandaging Jason; Annabeth fed him the ambrosia and was heartened by the color that crept back into his face.

Still, if he was dying –

"Jason, I'm sorry," she stammered. "About your mom. But the way you handled it . . . that was so brave."

"It wasn't her," he murmured. "At least, no part of her I could save. But there was no other choice."

Annabeth bit her lip, tried not to see Luke's face in her mind. "No other right choice, maybe, but, a . . . friend of mine." What else could she call him? "Luke. His mom . . ." She broke off again, fingers clenching around a dagger that wasn't there. "Similar problem. He didn't handle it as well."

She choked off, remembering Luke's bitterness – a bitterness that she and Percy were also starting to feel.

Piper broke her out of her thoughts. "I've bandaged as much as I can – blood is still soaking through. And the smoke – I don't get that."

"Imperial gold. It's deadly to demigods." Annabeth didn't want another friend to die on her. She was already thinking about Luke, she'd lost Bob and Damasen and Silena and – "It's only a matter of time before" –

"He'll be all right." Piper's charmspeak was so strong it almost convinced Annabeth. "We've got to get him back to the ship."

Annabeth's mind started racing as the other two talked. How could they do that? If they – no, that wouldn't work. The backup plan? "We could use the emergency flares" –

"No." Jason was right. "Leo would blast the top of the hill with Greek fire. Maybe if you guys helped me, I could walk" –

"Absolutely not. That would take too long." Piper pulled a mirror out of her pouch. "Annabeth, you know Morse code?"

"Of course." She'd taught herself when she was six, and laughed when the others in the Athena cabin told her they were going to teach her an important skill.

"So does Leo. He'll be watching from the ship." Piper pressed the mirror into Annabeth's hand. "Go to the ridge" –

"And flash him!" Annabeth's mind had been racing so hard she'd forgotten a few words – she felt her cheeks heat up. "That came out wrong. But yeah, good idea."

At the ridge, she glanced up at the sun, calculated the angle, and held the mirror at just the right spot to create a flash of light on the Argo II. Jason hurt, she spelled out. Need help.

Then she waited.

The answer came in the form of light rays hitting the ground right in front of her. Dragonman on way. Stretcher needed.

Annabeth sighed. Leo.

Okay, she responded, and turned away without waiting for a response.

When she walked back, her ankle throbbed. Part of her wondered if she'd messed it up forever – she was pretty sure that splint it with Bubble Wrap and then journey through the deepest pits of the Underworld wasn't exactly on any doctor's orders for what to do with a broken ankle. Now, though, whenever she was worried about something she felt the pain and remembered running from spiders and demons on that foot.

"Are you hurt?" was the first thing Jason said, and she almost shook her head. He was dying, and was worried about her?

"It's fine – just the old break from the Roman caverns. Sometimes when I'm stressed" – Why was she rambling about this? They didn't need to know about her stupid phantom pains. "That's not important. I signaled Leo. Frank's going to change form, fly up here and carry you back to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep you stable."

She started rummaging among the ruins, gathering every bit of weaving material she could find, and started working. For a moment she'd been afraid that that aptitude she'd briefly found had deserted her – but as soon as she laid hands on the material, she knew what to do. The stretcher began to take shape under her hands.

"How are you doing that?" Jason's awe made Annabeth feel good, but she couldn't focus on that.

"Learned it during my quest under Rome. I'd never had a reason to try weaving before, but it's handy for certain things, like getting away from spiders . . ." She trailed off, finishing up.

Piper let out a low whistle. "The next time I need a dress altered, I'm coming to you."

"Shut up, McLean." Annabeth tried to fight back her pride. "Now, let's get him secured" –

"Wait." Jason cut her off. "A bed. There was a special bed in this palace."

"Jason," Piper tried to say, "you've lost a lot of blood . . ."

"I'm not hallucinating. The marriage bed was sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno . . ." He inhaled. "Juno!"

If Jason wanted to talk to Hera, Annabeth wouldn't have been surprised if he had been hallucinating. She couldn't imagine anyone actually desiring to talk to that cow. Pun intended.

But unfortunately for her, Jason's summons had worked. Queen Life-Wrecker appeared in all her glory. "My heroes."

"Hera," said Piper.

"Juno."

Annabeth didn't care about correctness. "Whatever. What are you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?"

"Annabeth Chase." Annabeth's immortal enemy glared at her. "As charming as ever."

Annabeth was not going to be talked down to by this most annoying of goddesses. "Yeah, well, I just got back from Tartarus, so my manners are a little rusty. Especially towards goddesses who wiped my boyfriend's memory, made him disappear for months and then" –

"Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash this again?"

Annabeth decided not to correct the goddess's grammar (rehash and again were redundant). "Aren't you supposed to be suffering from split-personality disorder – I mean, more so than usual?"

"Whoa." Jason cut her off, which was probably a good idea, although at this point Annabeth couldn't care less. "Juno, we need your help. We" – He sat up and almost fell over; Piper steadied him.

"First things first," said Piper commandingly. "Jason is hurt. Heal him!"

"Some things even the gods cannot heal," admitted Hera. "This wound touches your soul as well as your body. You must fight it, Jason Grace … you must survive."

Thanks for caring, thought Annabeth viciously.

"Yeah, thanks," Jason echoed her thoughts. "I'm trying."

"What do you mean the wound touches his soul? Why can't you" –

Hera cut Piper off. "My heroes, our time is short. I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion . . . my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I've been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaia."

"Gee." Annabeth tried to channel Percy. "Why would he think that?"

Hera glared, but didn't seem inclined to blast Annabeth. "Fortunately, this place is sacred to me. By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you – if only briefly."

"Why is it sacred? Oh," Piper realized, "the marriage bed."

"Marriage bed?" Annabeth had probably known this story once, but lately she'd been skipping past Hera's name in every myth she read, she'd been so angry. "I don't see any" –

"The bed of Penelope and Odysseus. One of its bedposts was a living olive tree, so it could never be moved."

"Indeed." Juno touched the olive tree, and Annabeth felt as though a sacred symbol of her mother had been contaminated. Not that she was overjoyed with Athena lately, either . . . "An immovable marriage bed. Such a beautiful symbol! Like Penelope, the most faithful wife, standing her ground, fending off a hundred arrogant suitors for years because she knew her husband would return. Odysseus and Penelope – the epitome of a perfect marriage!"

Annabeth almost snorted. Because Odysseus definitely hadn't spent years living on Calypso's island. And those nonexistent years definitely had been spent doing harmless activities like playing chess and having philosophical discussions over milk and cookies.

"Can you advise us, at least?" asked Jason. "Tell us what to do?"

Annabeth held back another derisive snort. As if she was going to listen to Lady Mess-Everything-Up-For-Everyone if she even gave them advice.

"Sail around the Peloponnese," Hera said. "As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed."

"You mean Nike?" Despite herself, Annabeth's interest was piqued. "How is she out of control?"

Thunder rumbled in the sky. Evidently Annabeth wasn't the only one who wasn't pleased with Hera.

"Explaining would take too long," said Hera, as if she weren't secretly pleased to be withholding information from Annabeth. "I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again."

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"What else should we know?" asked Jason, who seemed to be better at appeasing obnoxious goddesses than Annabeth was.

"As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath."

Annabeth wasn't surprised about Apollo, but she did think Artemis knew better than to incur Zeus's anger.

"Artemis and Apollo?" asked Piper. "Why?"

"If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not . . ." Hera's voice faded away, and she shimmered and disappeared in a flash of rainbow light.

Annabeth wanted to punch the disappearing face, but she was distracted by Jason's tiny grunt-gasp. She looked down just in time to see his eyes roll back into his head, and he collapsed into Piper's arms.

There was a moment of silence as Hera faded completely away and Annabeth and Piper took in what had just happened. Then Piper screamed, "Jason!" and Annabeth snapped back to attention.

"Gods, no," she whispered. There was no way another friend was dying on her watch. She leaned forward and grabbed Jason's limp wrist, pressing her fingers to it. It was there: faint, but steady. A pulse.

"We have to get him back to the ship," she said. "I don't know if there's much more we can do for him, but Hera said this was a wound that touches his soul, too. That means as long as we can stabilize him, we can make it so that he can fight it himself."

"Okay." Piper still held Jason by the shoulders; Annabeth took hold of his legs and together they eased him onto the stretcher she'd woven. Piper leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Jason Grace," she said in a fierce whisper, "you are not dying on me. You're going to stay right here with me."

He didn't stir, but Annabeth swore his pulse was a little stronger.

A dark shadow crossed over their heads, and they turned to look up. Frank the dragon flew overhead, swooping down to land next to them. He transformed seamlessly, and as always Annabeth got a little shock when she saw how different he looked; how much taller and stronger and more confident. It made her feel like she'd been in Tartarus for years instead of days. As if she didn't already feel that way.

"Hey," Frank said – then he glanced down at Jason. "Dang – that looks bad. Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes," Piper said so strongly that Annabeth believed her. "We just have to get him back to the ship and to the infirmary."

Frank smiled. "Well, then, Dragon Zhang is at your service."

Despite everything, Annabeth smiled back. "Then, Dragon Zhang, let's get you hitched up."

Soon enough, Frank was soaring into the sky with Jason's stretcher held firmly in his claws. Annabeth and Piper had to hike back down – but without Old Man Jason, the walk was much quicker. Annabeth still limped slightly, occasionally hitting a rock wrong and rolling her ankle painfully, but she didn't let it slow her down.

At the bottom of the hill, Leo had lowered the ship to the ground so that they could easily climb aboard. No one was there to greet them, so they shared a glance and headed straight for the infirmary.

Everyone was there, crowded around the bed where Jason lay, still unconscious. Hazel was trickling nectar into his mouth, and Leo was standing by, shifting from one foot to the other and tapping a screwdriver against his thigh. Frank sat in the corner, catching his breath. Annabeth supposed flying was a lot more tiring than walking.

Percy, though, went straight for Annabeth.

"Hey." He caught her arms, tugged her into an embrace. "You okay?" He looked at her neck, where blood from her cut had dried, crusting onto the edges of her dress. "You're hurt."

"Oh, this?" Annabeth had almost forgotten about that cut; now that he had mentioned it, it began to sting. But she didn't have the energy to take care of it right now. "It's fine. Just shallow." She leaned against Percy, glad to take the weight off her bad foot. "Hazel, stop." Hazel froze, and turned to her.

"We already gave him a bunch of ambrosia back there," she elaborated. "Too much nectar, and he might burn up. I think" – she hesitated. "Hera said it was a wound he'd have to fight, or something. I think there's only so much we can do."

"Hera, as in Goddess-Babysitter-Lady?" Leo's brows knitted together, and his screwdriver-tapping increased in tempo. "You ran into her?"

"Yes." Annabeth sighed, suddenly exhausted, and laid her head on Percy's shoulder, feeling as though she could sleep right there. "And she was as awful as ever, before you ask. Vague and haughty. But she said we should go around the Peloponnese. There's more, too – that we learned from the suitors. But" – She glanced at Piper, who was sitting beside Jason with his hand in hers and her eyes fixed on his face. "We'll tell you later. For now, give us a few hours to rest, okay?"

Leo looked like he wanted to protest, but Percy spoke up. "That's fine," he said. "We'll reconvene at dinner, hopefully Jason will be awake then, and you guys can tell us everything that happened."

Slowly, the group dispersed. Piper stayed with Jason, though, fingers still laced in his and eyes that seemed to be willing him back to life. Annabeth thought about staying, but Percy tugged on her hand and she went with him willingly.

They went to his cabin, sat on the bed, leaning against each other. Annabeth fought the waves of exhaustion washing through her. It had just been one fight – she'd fought worse and harder before. In Tartarus, especially . . . She winced.

"Still thinking about it?" Percy's voice was gravelly. He slid his fingers through hers and began to absentmindedly stroke circles on her hand with his thumb.

"Of course. How could I not?"

"I know." Percy sighed, rested his head against hers. "Stupid question, but I had to ask."

"How'd you handle today? Any threats?"

"None. Just a few hours of Frank teaching Hazel how to play Mythomagic and Leo being Leo." Percy's fingers stilled for a moment, and then started moving faster. "And of course, worrying out of my mind. I don't like not having you in sight. It makes me feel so helpless – like I'm dropping the ball."

"You're not dropping the ball," she chided. "I'm slapping it out of your hands." Percy chuckled, and she smiled, too. "I can do it, Seaweed Brain. Don't doubt me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"No," she exhaled, leaning against him again, "but I know what you mean. I keep having these flashbacks, where I just – something triggers something else, and then I'm remembering things, and thinking they're going to happen again – I just feel really jumpy all the time. You know?"

"Yeah."

They were silent for a little longer, and then Annabeth felt a laugh bubbling up inside her. "Did Frank teach you how to play Mythomagic, too?"

"He tried. Eventually I gave up."

"You should learn how. You could play with Nico next time we see him."

"Nico . . ." Percy's voice trailed off. Annabeth knew he'd felt a personal responsibility for Nico ever since Bianca had died. Not to mention he'd experienced the horrors of Tartarus alone – and they owed him their lives. It was hard to think how he was risking his right now. "Do you know what's been going on with him? He always seems so angry."

Annabeth shook her head, bumping it against Percy's neck. "I really don't." She no longer thought he liked her – after seeing how he behaved towards her, so coolly but guarded at the same time, she thought there was something else instead, but she didn't know what it was. "But I hope that whatever it is, it gets better." She thought about Reyna, then. She'd felt such a kinship with Reyna right away – both daughters of strategists, both knowing what it felt like to be a leader, and both understanding what it was to be lonely. The difference was that she'd gotten Percy in the end, and Reyna was still alone. Annabeth hoped that everything was going well with her and Nico.

"Me, too," agreed Percy. He tilted his head to the side, catching Annabeth off-guard in a kiss. She relaxed into him, feeling her whole body go limp.

When they broke apart, Annabeth lay down on Percy's bed and pulled him down with her. They tried to stay apart at night, for the most part, what with Leo's screaming, Coach-Hedge-channeling table, but whenever she was alone in bed she lay awake for hours on end, fearing the nightmares that would claim her as soon as she closed her eyes. Lying in bed with Percy reminded her of the one time in Tartarus that she'd felt safe: in Damasen's little hut, with the smell of drakon-meat stew filling the air.

"I want to sleep, Seaweed Brain," she mumbled, barely able to think through her tiredness. "Help me sleep."

"Gladly," he whispered, pulling her closer. Wrapped in his warmth, Annabeth's unease began to slip away, and she drifted off.