A Tale of Romans and Slaves | PJO/HOO

Chapter 49: Annabeth

Hazel and Frank were good people.

I could tell that they were in love, which was sweet. Even though they reminded me of Percy and I, which made me sad.

They were both sweet, cheerful, and funny. Generally, just good people to be around.

I was almost sad when the dinner bell rang.

But I went down to the courtyard anyway, because I was starving. All they gave me was a piece of bread, which was less than I got at the ludus. But I'd get used to it.

I sat down with Leo and the others. I had just finished my bread when I saw her.

Sally.

I wanted to talk to her, to make sure that my suspicions were correct, and that she was Percy's mother. She'd probably want to know what happened to him, if she was.

She was currently talking to Mellie about being pregnant. I awkwardly stood by a tree as I waited for them to finish.

Eventually, they did, and I approached her.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Annabeth."

She smiled at me. "It's nice to meet you, dear. I'm Sally."

I sat down next to her on the rock. "I was wondering if you had a son."

A bunch of emotions ran across her face at once. I couldn't imagine how hard it was for her, being forced away from her child like she was.

"I do have one," She said. "Why?"

"I think I've seen him," I said. "Is his name Percy?"

Sally's eyes widened. "You know what happened to my baby?"

"Kind of," I said.

"Tell me," She demanded. "Please."

"He was sold to Lord Dionysus," I said. "That's where we met."

"Is he alive?" She asked.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "He was sent to the colosseum. But he promised me that he'd come back."

Sally nodded, and I could tell that she was holding back tears. "Thank you."

***

I missed Percy.

Being away from him was horrible. I felt so alone. Percy was like a part of me at this point, and being separated from him made me feel like someone had ripped me apart.

"Hey, Annabeth?" Hazel asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said, focusing my attention back on my weaving. "Just thinking."

"How did you get so good at weaving?" Hazel asked.

"My mother taught me," I replied.

"Could your mother do everything?" Hazel asked.

I laughed. "Probably."

Except for surviving a deadly disease, I thought.