CW: Referenced SA of a minor (brief)

Annabeth needs to stop spending time in monster-filled pits, or really, just pits in general. At this point, she should probably go get tested for asthma because the amount of smoke and dust she's inhaled in her life cannot be healthy.

At least she doesn't have to worry about the insurance! She's about to die, probably. It's likely. She doesn't see a reasonable way out of this.

At least she's not Will. He's out on some kind of an altar—that's probably exactly what it is, actually—tied down by his wrists and ankles, humming some Taylor Swift song from the vault.

"This is the last time, this is the last time," he sings. He does this when he's nervous or uncomfortable. Some people have favorite stuffed animals or comfort foods; Will Solace has a favorite comfort singer-songwriter. Annabeth still feels the urge to judge him for that, but she knows it would be fruitless, for she too has experienced the healing powers of Dr. Taylor Allison Swift.

Will could have at least picked a cool song, like "Look What You Made Me Do." Annabeth probably would have picked "Look What You Made Me Do."

But Annabeth isn't the one on the literal chopping block right now, so Will can sing whatever he wants. Annabeth can... Well, she probably won't be singing Taylor Swift when it's her turn to be sacrificed for some unknown purpose. Nobody wants to hear that.

She's not sure what she'll do when her time comes. There was a time when she wanted her last words to be a simple "I love you" to Percy. Those were simpler times. Now, she's not sure what she wants.

Annabeth would have liked to tell Will she loves him sober for once. He was the best friend she's ever had. He was so kind and patient, and never judged her for her issues. He hated Percy for her, even after Annabeth's feelings started to change. He sang Taylor Swift to put her back to sleep when she woke up screaming after having nightmares even though his hospital shifts had him up at ungodly hours, and what did she ever do for him?

No, making refrigerator sangria does not count as reciprocation.

She never deserved a friend like Will, and now she won't even get to tell him what he meant to her.

That boy deserves the world, and she took him for granted.

And now the lightheadedness is back. Fantastic.

She puts her head between her knees, and things start to cool off faster than last time. She's not hallucinating this time. That's a plus.

"Are you alright?" a voice asks. One of the guys. She can't tell if it's Percy or Nico, which she should be a little more concerned about considering Nico has an Italian accent and Percy is a Latino guy born and raised in New York.

She throws up a peace sign, the sign of her people. She giggles at that.

"She is not okay. Idiot."

"I think I have some water in my bag." It sounds like Percy talking. "Here," he says, pressing his cold water bottle into Annabeth's clammy hands. "Drink." He helps her unscrew the lid and she peers inside.

"I am not drinking your starfish water," she says. Her voice sounds muffled like she's on the other side of a glass fish tank.

"If it makes you feel better, Zebediah isn't so keen on this either," he says.

She sits back, not drinking the water, but feeling a little better anyway. "So Zebediah is..."

"A god."

"And so is Marty McFly," she says. "Huh. Does anyone else here want to tell us they're secretly a god?"

Percy laughs. "Put your hand down, Nico."

Annabeth's vision starts to clear enough for her to see the sheepish look on Nico's face. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he says.

"You okay?" Annabeth asks. "You're not... I don't know..."

"Not completely hysterical?" Nico asks. "I'm the son of Hades. I've got this."

Annabeth exchanges a look with Percy. Yes, Nico is the son of Hades. Yes, he's also completely in denial.

"I guess, at least..." Nico starts, searching for the right words. "I know what's coming. We're together. Will and I laid everything on the table a while ago. It's sad we won't get to live out the future we wanted, but at least I know he knows I love him, and vice versa. I like to think I'm the kind of person that tells it as it is. I have no loose ends. Everyone knows how I feel about them." He runs a hand through his long knotty hair.

Percy stands up as much as he can in their small shared cell. "He's not dead yet. He's still there. Maybe I can get into the plumbing system and-"

"And what?" Annabeth snaps. "Not be able to use your powers because this isn't Poseidon's domain?"

"Hey, at least I'm trying to get us out of here!" he yells, causing some of the guards to turn their heads.

He scratches the back of his neck and sits down. "Sorry, I guess I'm just not doing well."

No shit, Annabeth wants to say. She doesn't say it. What's the point in starting an argument with Percy if they're both going to die anyway? Gods, what's going to happen to her after she dies? She did a few heroic things many years ago. Is she even going to Elysium at this rate? It's her fault everyone got roped into this.

"I'm sorry for shouting," Percy says. His eyebrows knit together and he looks at the tattoo on his arm, which must be dry as hell if he's feeling like Annabeth is.

"How does it feel?" she asks, not that it matters.

He shrugs. "A little dry, but I'm glad I did it. That's one regret I definitely won't have. Thanks for talking me into it."

"Anytime," Annabeth says, shooting finger guns.

"How about you?" he asks. "Any regrets?"

It's funny he brings that up because she was just thinking about how she kind of takes Will for granted and how even if she'd had the time to, there's no possible way she could have thanked him enough for everything he's done for her.

So instead she says, "Yeah." That's it.

"I wish I could have said goodbye to my mom. And my sister. And my stepdad, Paul," he says. His eyes widen, as if he was just struck by a realization. "Gods, I don't even know what's going to happen to my mom after I'm gone. I've spent so much time focusing on what's going to happen after her dementia kicks in. I mean, really kicks in. I never figured anything out for her if I'm the one who goes first."

Annabeth grips his hand. "Hey, she's with Paul and Estelle now, right? You said they were taking a trip to Montauk."

"I guess so."

"So there's that." It's not much but seems to reassure him.

Percy squeezes her hand. Physical contact is nice in a dark place like this.

At last, he speaks again. "I hope she forgets about me."

"Percy-"

"I mean it. I hope she forgets about me altogether so she doesn't have to remember I'm gone every day," he says.

Annabeth isn't quite sure what to say to that. It's sad that a son would wish his mother would forget him, but she supposes it probably is better than his poor mother's heart being broken every time she remembers he isn't coming home.

This is all Annabeth's fault. She's the one who slept with Eros in the first place. She agreed to go on this stupid quest. She didn't accept Percy's offer to turn back when they were in Munich. She freaked out on him in the hotel room when that stupid cut on her face got to her.

She shouldn't have run away from home.

She shouldn't have taken the dagger.

She should have said no.

"Annabeth, are you-"

"It's all my fault."

"Hey," Percy says, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "None of this is your fault. I invited you here. Someone would have had to go after Pothos and Eros even if you hadn't... yeah."

Her eyes burn with tears. It's sort of that guilty feeling that happens to her when someone is nice to her about this. She should be comforting Percy because he's worried about his mom, not straining him because the ghosts from her past decided to make an appearance.

"I'm sorry," she says, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"Please stop apologizing," Percy says. "Listen to me. None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known he would take advantage of you like that. You were a kid. He knew better."

She sniffles and nods.

"Fuck that guy," Percy says.

Annabeth suppresses a laugh. Percy's started swearing more since they left New Rome; she hates to think she's rubbed off on him, yet she doesn't hate it. She's proud of him.

"Say it with me," Percy says. "Fuck that guy."

"I don't know who we're fucking," Nico says, "but fuck that guy." He raises his fist in solidarity.

"Fuck that guy," Annabeth says. "Fuck Luke Castellan."

Saying it feels good. There's power in saying his name. He's not some anonymous, faceless guy who quite possibly ruined her life. He's Luke. He was a camp counselor, someone who knew better, yet still chose to do something horrible. Who cares if he died a hero's death? He was no hero. Luke Castellan was no hero.

"It feels good talking about it," Annabeth admits. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Please stop apologizing," Percy says.

"Fine, fine," she says, throwing her hands up in defense. "Things might have been different if I'd told you. I just freaked out and left you out there by the lake without a clue of what was happening. That wasn't cool. You probably would have understood."

"I'm sorry too," Percy says. "You were kind of off all week, and I was so excited about going to college that I was a bad boyfriend."

"For the last time, you were not a bad boyfriend. You were the best boyfriend ever."

They sit there for a minute, not sure what to say to each other. Annabeth feels kind of silly about the whole thing. She could have skipped the Stoll brothers' end-of-summer party and talked to Percy about what happened. Maybe things would have been different if she'd done that.

She wants to believe it was a good thing; she never would have gotten close with Will if she hadn't been plastered that night, and Percy never would have gone to therapy if Annabeth hadn't dumped him. Still, there's this gut feeling that something was incredibly out of character that day when she broke up with him. More so than she is now, she was a calculating person back then. How could she have rationalized breaking up with Percy? She always suspected that he continued hating Luke even after the war against Kronos's army.

"Zebediah says he's sorry too," Percy says. "Sorry, Himeros says he's sorry."

If Annabeth hasn't made this clear enough, things have been incredibly weird these past couple of days. Mandatory bar crawls? Check. Hard drugs? Snorted. More windmills? Of course. Centaur Mafia? Sure! Body swapping? Why not? Percy even danced with a furry! Of course, the talking starfish can be a god.

If Himeros hadn't betrayed them in the first place, she wouldn't be in this situation. He led them right into every single one of Pothos and Eros's traps, and she and Percy had no choice but to trust him blindly because he was allegedly a gift from Poseidon. It was probably the first time Percy had seen Poseidon in years and this is where it led.

"Well, I'd certainly love to hear what the god of unrequited love has to say about this," she says.

Percy sighs. "Go ahead. I'll translate," he says to the starfish.

After a minute, Percy starts translating the story to Annabeth: "Himeros wants to apologize for betraying us, first off. He swears he had no idea that his brothers were going to take all four of us as prisoners."

"He did know about sacrificing a demigod," Annabeth objects.

"He says he felt indebted to Eros because... Well, because as the god of unrequited love, he felt like it was his fault Nico went through that confrontation with Eros. He thinks it's his fault that Eros is trapped in a mortal body," Percy explains. "Himeros, I don't think that's your fault—Alright, fine. Go on."

"After the war against Gaia and the giants, Eros was punished to mortality as penance, and Pothos quickly claimed him as a servant—kind of like Meg and Apollo—so that he could work to help him become a god again.

"Himeros still felt guilty about what happened to both Eros and Nico-"

Nico clears his throat. "Thanks, I guess? It's all in the past now. I went to therapy."

Percy continues. "I think he appreciates that. Anyway, Himeros felt guilty, and sort of terrible about being the god of unrequited love because... Well, it sucks when you love someone who can never love you back, so he begged Aphrodite for a chance to redeem himself and maybe earn a different title."

Annabeth doesn't think she likes where this is going.

"Aphrodite trusted Himeros with, well, us," Percy says, looking up from his water bottle and over to Annabeth.

Wow, I can't think of any way that could have gone wrong! Annabeth thinks to herself. That's an inside thought; maybe it's not a good idea to upset a starfish who may or may not become a god again any more than she already has over the last couple of days.

"Being the god of unrequited love, Himeros's influence over us stirred some things, mostly in you, Annabeth," Percy says. Then, he stops his translation to say, "Tell me to shut up if this gets too personal."

"I can handle it," she says. "It's not like we're going to have time to unpack this."

"Himeros accidentally stirred some feelings in you, like your feelings toward women. Reyna, Annabeth, really?"

"You've seen her," Annabeth says. "But I mean, not anymore. She is a minor and can't date, but someone might want to remind her of that."

Percy ignores that and continues Himeros's story. "Himeros thought he could handle that, but then the Stolls happened to clean out Luke's bunk shrine thing, and they found... Are you serious?"

"Skip that part," Annabeth says. "I heard it all later."

"I still can't believe Connor Stoll figured it out before you did," Percy says. "Himeros wants me to apologize for saying that. Yeah, okay, I guess you're right." He says that last part into the water bottle.

"It's fine," Annabeth says. "I guess it's a common thing for people who don't want to believe it. The memories kind of all came back when Connor came to me." Connor Stoll was so kind. She'd never seen him act so gently toward someone before. When he sat her down on her bunk to tell her, she thought he was about to play some cruel prank on her. She wishes he'd played some cruel prank on her.

"Himeros felt bad about that whole thing, and he didn't want it to drive a wedge between us, but he's not a god of reciprocated love. He understands that now. He's sorry that he broke us up."

Annabeth sits back against the cell and stares at the ground where her hand lays intertwined with Percy's still. She thinks about that day on the docks. She felt nothing for Percy that day; she didn't even care that breaking up with him would completely crush him.

Then she thinks of the aftermath. She was sort of a hot mess the next couple of weeks. Will admitted years later that he almost staged an intervention when her lowest point led to some dangerous destructive habits. Annabeth's glad he didn't; he would have played Taylor Swift, and it would not have been an appropriate way to address that.

"Himeros wishes things had worked out between you and me," Percy says.

Annabeth has something to say, and if she doesn't say it now, she's going to chicken out and never say it, and then she'll die with even more regrets. 

"I don't regret what happened the other night," she blurts. There are so many smoother ways she could have said that. She could have said Thanks for the other night, or Hey, I don't know where you got that skill from but awesome job or Turn around and cover your ears, Nico; there's something I need to do one last time.

Red rises to Percy's face. "You don't?"

"No, I don't," she says, "but I also don't regret breaking up with you all those years ago. I think we both needed the break. Neither of us was fit for a relationship."

"You're starting to sound like my therapist," he jokes.

She elbows him.

"Can you tell Himeros I forgive him?"

"He can hear you," Percy says.

Annabeth finds herself smiling. "That's good."

Nico clears his throat. "Well, that was lovely and all, although I'm more of a Love is Blind guy personally. Anybody got any other feelings they want to share before we all die?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. Okay, yes, Nico is dealing with the same imminent death thing that she and Percy are, but he tied all his loose ends. Besides, he's the son of Hades. The odds of him escaping this are pretty good.

"Actually, yeah," Percy says.

Nico mutters something under his breath that sort of sounds like, "That was not an invitation." Or maybe he spoke in Italian and Annabeth's wrong.

Percy locks his sea-green eyes on Annabeth. His gaze is intense, so intense that she's worried something might be on her face, but filled with something equally intense that reassures her that no, this gaze has nothing to do with what may or may not be on her face.

He takes a shaky deep breath. He's nervous, and for some reason, Annabeth is too when he takes her other hand so that she holds both of his hands with her own.

Finally, he speaks. "You're beautiful."

She immediately feels bad for laughing. It took a lot of effort for Percy to muster up the courage to say this, but compared to everything else that's going on, a comment on Annabeth's physical appearance feels trivial. Besides, she's just Annabeth. She's never had issues with her appearance, but she's just Annabeth. People have called her pretty, Will calls her gorgeous sometimes, and she gets called sexy occasionally, and she's felt like all of those things before. Those feelings come with a trip to the mall with her best friend or a free drink from someone at the club.

But beautiful? Annabeth's only ever felt beautiful a few times in her life. She felt beautiful in that dress she wore when she was sixteen and spent her one-month anniversary with Percy in Paris. She felt beautiful when she threw her knife into the river only for Percy to come and save her and Piper and Hazel. She felt beautiful in the stables when she and Percy took a leap of faith in their relationship, but that all happened so long ago.

The last time she felt beautiful was... Well, she realizes, the last time she felt beautiful was when Percy admired her anchor tattoo—the one she got when she was high in Prague. She felt beautiful when he laid her down on the bed, and when she fell asleep in his arms.

The same feeling gurgles in her stomach now. It's like he's trying to say something more, but can't find the words because they don't exist.

Yet Annabeth gets the message loud and clear.

"Thank you," she says. You too doesn't exactly suffice.

Nico clears his throat, once again making his presence known from his spot in the corner of the cell. "Percy, have you considered that you might be demi?"

Percy raises an eyebrow. "We're all demigods, Nico."

"Not what I meant."

They don't get to finish unpacking that because the guards close in around the altar where Will is, and Pothos and Eros walk down a dramatic set of stairs.

If they miraculously make it through this weird ceremony thing, Will is going to be so mad he missed all of the drama that just went on in the prison cell. Annabeth doesn't think she'll be able to recount it properly, not that she'll have to.

"Alrighty-oh!" Eros says, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

Percy chuckles. "Himeros says Aphrodite did not turn Eros into a suburban white dad. He did that to himself."

Annabeth snorts.

"Yes, yes," Pothos deadpans, clearly annoyed with his brother. He addresses the guards. "We are gathered here today to celebrate my brother Eros regaining his godhood. With the help of this demigod sacrifice, we will invoke our other brothers."

"Wait," says Eros. "What did you say the other three demigods are for?"

"Just in case."

"What if we don't need them?"

Pothos rolls his eyes. "In that case... You can have a concubine. Do you want a concubine?"

"Sounds dope!" Eros says, focusing his gaze on Annabeth.

Percy's hand squeezes hers a little harder.

Pothos groans. "If you don't stop using those stupid mortal slang terms, you'll be the next one to turn into a starfish."

"Okay, okay," Eros says. "Chill." He fires a finger gun at Annabeth. Who does he think he is appropriating her bisexual culture?

Pothos clears his throat and runs a finger through his pink hair, although Annabeth doesn't see how that's possible seeing how much gel is in there.

He starts over. "We are gathered here to celebrate my brother Eros regaining his godhood via this glow-in-the-dark guy we have strapped to the altar, blah, blah, blah."

As if on cue, the faint glow in Will's skin pulses.

"Tell them about the raffle," Eros says.

"I'm getting to that part!" Pothos snaps. "At the back of the room, there's a table with some gift baskets we're raffling off. Tickets are five drachmae each. Be sure to enter for prizes including a BlueTooth speaker, a vinyl record player, and a gift card bundle including Vineyard Vines and Buffalo Wild Wings."

"Holy shit, I love Buffalo Wild Wings," Annabeth says.

"That's your takeaway?" Nico asks.

Pothos points to a table on the other side of the room. "Light refreshments will also be served after the ceremony. Please take your seats and stay away from the walls in case something goes horribly wrong. Locate your nearest exit. In the event of an emergency, I am not liable for your injuries, and please do not tell my mother about any of this."

"Good gods of Olympus! Do not tell our mom!" Eros adds.

All this talk about not telling certain things to certain moms gets Annabeth thinking.

"So if Aphrodite found out about this, she'd put a stop to this, right?" Annabeth asks.

Percy raises an eyebrow. "What are you getting at, Wise Girl?"

"Is there something that Himeros can do to invoke her?" she asks.

"Oh, I like that idea," says Nico. "Tell her I'd like my boyfriend alive, please."

Percy sighs and looks at Annabeth; his cheeks are red and not just because it's hot in here. "Himeros has an idea, but he isn't sure it's going to work, and he knows we're not going to like it."

"Oh," Annabeth says.

"Does anybody remember when Nico said he'd like his boyfriend alive? I do!" Nico quips. "I don't care what it is, just do it!"

Eros runs around lighting candles while Pothos reads an incantation in Ancient Greek from an old book. Annabeth does not like what he's saying.

"What's the idea?" she asks.

Percy sets the water bottle containing Himeros between him and Annabeth. "Well, there's one love-god power Himeros still has as a starfish."