Percy Jackson One Shots and Short Stories

#77 - Etched On Skin (AU) (Part II)

Chapter 77 - Etched on Skin (AU) (Part II)
published: Tuesday, 9 March 2021

Annabeth's first thought upon waking up was that this didn't look like the Underworld.

Her eyes squinted against the glare of the glowing orange yolk in the sky. The sunrise had splattered the blue with streaks of pink and purple. This was too beautiful to be the Underworld. No, even Elysium's sky was an inky abyss.

Her second thought was that there were trees in her vision and there was glass prickling her skin. Which meant that she was waking up in the same clearing she was pretty sure she had just died in.

And her third thought — there was heavy breathing somewhere to her right, and when Annabeth forced her head to turn, she saw Percy lying on the ground beside her, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Percy was alive. He was alive and breathing and fine after being run through by his own sword. The cloth of his shirt was bunched up from the angle of his fall, exposing his collarbone.

The soulmate tattoo was flashing as quickly as Annabeth had remembered, but now all she could do was ogle it with all the knowledge she had never had before.

this is insane
is he going to wake up
how am i alive
percy you need to wake up
how are we alive—who healed us—who helped us

The flashing made her dizzy. But the sheer surreality of the situation was worse. Because those—those were her thoughts. Annabeth's thoughts. She was reading her own thoughts as they ran through her brain.

this has to be some sort of paradox
if i just had paper to script it out
ask my mother
chiron might know
malcolm would help me
if only daedalus—

Percy stirred, and both the words on his collarbone and Annabeth's own feelings took a leap in another direction.

"Percy," Annabeth tried to say, not really sure what she expecting her voice to come out as. Mostly she was still in disbelief at being alive at the moment. "Percy," she said again, clearer and surer this time.

His eyelashes fluttered, and Annabeth was struck again by the ridiculous situation she was in. Stunned to the point that when his eyes opened wearily, Percy was met with the sight of a stricken Annabeth.

"Annabeth?" his words were slightly slurred. "I—are we—is this—"

Annabeth looked down at her wrist.

Hades is gonna kill me
any chance dad will come to the rescue

i cannot face nico again
that kid seriously creeps me out

Annabeth cracked a small smile that made her face hurt. "We're not dead." She struggled to prop herself up in her elbows. Her head was still pounding — like she was recovering from a hangover, or a migraine.

She drank in their surroundings. Her dagger lay a few feet away, stained with inky blood. Riptide wasn't anywhere in sight, but she was willing to bet that it had reappeared back in Percy's pocket.

"But how..." Percy's eyes travelled down to her stomach, and Annabeth followed his gaze to see the massive stain of blood on her shirt.

The words 'Camp Half-Blood' were no longer visible, drowned in her own blood. It might have dried, but the metallic stench still hung in the air and made her nauseous.

In fact, there was so much blood...everywhere.

Percy's own shirt was stained with it. Their hands looked like the rusty colour would never be washed out again. The patch of grass they were lying on was spattered with blood.