ANNABETH CHASE

The monster dissolved into dust at your feet, the last echoes of the fight fading into an unnatural quiet. Your chest rose and fell too fast, adrenaline still burning through your veins, but your grip on your weapon didn’t loosen. Not yet.

Not when something felt wrong.

You stood there, just a step back from where Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson caught their breath, both of them exchanging a glance that lasted a fraction too long.

That was all it took.

Three—no, almost four—days on this quest. Four days of monsters finding you faster than they should. Four days of whispered conversations that stopped when you got too close. Four days of tension sitting just beneath the surface, like a storm that refused to break.

You had tried to ignore it. Tried to trust them.

But trust only worked when it went both ways.

The dust from the monster scattered in the wind. Silence stretched between the three of you, heavy and suffocating. Percy shifted his weight, like he was about to say something, but didn’t. Annabeth’s expression was already guarded, her grey eyes sharper than usual, calculating.

That was what confirmed it.

She knew something.

Of course she did. The Oracle had spoken to her. That much had been clear from the beginning. You had accepted that. Accepted that there would be parts of the prophecy she would carry until the right moment.

But this?

This wasn’t strategy.

This was lying.

“You’re both lying to me.”

Your voice cut through the quiet, steadier than you felt.

Percy flinched slightly. Annabeth didn’t—but something in her posture shifted, just barely. Tension. Recognition.

“{{user}}—” Annabeth started.

“Stop.”

You shook your head before she could continue, taking a step back, creating space—physical distance to match the distance that had already formed between you.

“No more half-answers. No more looks between the two of you like I’m not even here.” Your voice sharpened, frustration bleeding through despite your effort to stay controlled. “I’m on this quest too.”

Annabeth’s jaw tightened. Percy looked between you both, clearly caught in the middle, but for once, he didn’t jump in.

Good.

This wasn’t something he could fix.

Your gaze locked onto Annabeth’s. “You know something. Both of you do.”

Neither of them denied it.

That silence was louder than any confession.

You let out a breath, slow and deliberate, steadying yourself before the words came—the ones that had been building for hours, maybe days.

“If you lie to me one more time...” You swallowed, the weight of it settling even as you said it. “I’m gone.”

Percy’s head snapped toward you. “You don’t mean that—”

“I do.”

There was no hesitation now. No room for doubt.

“I will walk away, and you will never see me finishing this quest.”

The words hung there, final and unyielding.

For a moment, no one spoke.

And then—

You saw it.

Annabeth’s composure didn’t break, not completely. She was too controlled for that. But something in her eyes shifted, something subtle and sharp and almost... afraid.

Not of you.

Of losing something.

A beat passed. Maybe two.

Then you continued, softer now—but somehow heavier.

“But if you tell me the truth...” Your grip loosened slightly at your side, though your gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll finish the quest.”

Percy stared at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious.

You were.

“No matter what it is.”

The silence that followed felt different.

Not empty—charged.

Annabeth looked at you like she was weighing something far more complicated than a simple choice. That was how she always worked—analyzing, calculating outcomes, measuring risks. You could almost see the thoughts moving behind her eyes, assembling possibilities, consequences, probabilities.

That was what made this hurt more.

Because this wasn’t just about the quest to her.

It was about control.

About deciding what you could handle.

“You think I can’t take it,” you said quietly.

Her gaze flickered. Just for a second.

That was enough.

“I don’t think that,” Annabeth replied, her voice calm—but too controlled. Too precise.

“You don’t have to say it,” you shot back. “You’ve been acting like it this entire time.”

Percy shifted again, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, can we not—”

“No,” you and Annabeth said at the same time.

That would’ve almost been funny.

If it didn’t hurt so much.

Annabeth exhaled slowly, like she was forcing herself to stay steady. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter—but more real.

“This isn’t about you not being capable.”

“Then what is it about?” you demanded.

She hesitated.

Annabeth Chase didn’t hesitate.

Not unless it mattered.

Your chest tightened.

“It’s about the outcome,” she said finally. “The prophecy... it’s not straightforward.”

“They never are,” you replied flatly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “This one is worse.”

Percy glanced at her, something uneasy passing between them again. Not a secret this time—something heavier. Shared understanding.

You took a step closer.

“Say it.”

Annabeth didn’t move.

For a moment, you thought she might refuse. That she would double down, lock it away, choose the mission over you.

It would’ve been the logical choice.

That was what scared you.

But then her expression shifted.

Not softer—Annabeth didn’t soften easily. But something in her defenses lowered, just enough to let you see what she’d been holding back.

“The prophecy says,” she began slowly, “that one of us won’t make it back.”

The words landed like a удар—sharp, disorienting, impossible to ignore.

Silence followed.

Your mind tried to process it, to slot it into something that made sense, but it didn’t. It just... sat there, heavy and unmoving.

“One of us?” Percy echoed, quieter now.

Annabeth nodded once.

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know that?” you asked.

There was no anger in your voice this time.

That made it worse.

Annabeth’s gaze met yours, unwavering despite everything. “I thought knowing would change how you fight.”

“It does,” you said immediately. “It makes me fight smarter.”

“It makes you hesitate,” she countered.

“It makes me aware,” you shot back.

“It makes you scared.”

You stepped closer again, closing the distance she had tried to maintain.

“I’m already scared.”

That stopped her.

For a moment, the strategist—the leader, the girl who always had a plan—had nothing to say.

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” you continued, quieter now. “Not when I’m the one risking my life alongside you.”

Annabeth held your gaze.

And then, slowly, she nodded.

Not in agreement.

In acknowledgment.

“You’re right.”

The words were simple, but they carried weight—because she didn’t say them easily.

“I should’ve told you.”

Percy let out a breath, like he’d been holding it for the past three days.

The tension didn’t disappear.

But it shifted.

Less like something breaking—and more like something realigning.

Annabeth stepped closer, just enough that the space between you no longer felt like a barrier.

“We finish this together,” she said.

Not a command.

A promise.

You studied her for a moment longer, searching for any trace of hesitation, any sign that she was still holding something back.

But this time—

There was nothing.

Just truth.

You nodded once.

“Together.”

And for the first time since the quest began, it actually felt like you meant it.