The Blood of Olympus

Chapter Forty-Nine: Percy

Yay! An update!

I realized the other day that I had under three weeks to finish this story. O.O 

This chapter is dedicated to soccergirl91 for being absolutely awesome and kind and amazing. Thank you!

Percy

Dinner on the Argo2 was surprisingly uneventful.

Percy and Annabeth, after a small trip to the sickbay where they had a few sips of nectar, arrived at the Mess Hall first, waiting for the others.

Annabeth’s head rested against his shoulder and as much as he was grateful for the peace, inside he was seething with anger with her silence.

Chrysaor. That name made Percy’s hands shake so hard with rage that he feared Annabeth would notice and point it out, but her eyes were glued to the screen showing Camp Half-Blood, as if staring at it long enough would bring her home.

Percy didn’t want to look at the screen but he couldn’t help himself. There, on the borders of Camp Half-Blood, were figures dressed in purple and Imperial Gold armour.

“The Romans.” Annabeth said quietly. Her voice betrayed no emotion, but her hand slipped into his. “They’ve arrived at Camp Half-Blood.”

Percy wanted to reply, but his throat felt like someone had shoved a basketball down it. His hands shook and his insides churned, reminding him of that time in Tartarus when…

Happy thoughts. He thought to himself. His eyes immediately strayed to Annabeth as she studied the screen of Camp Half-Blood.

She looked even more beautiful when she was thinking about something intently. Her stormy grey eyes somehow became more intense and piercing and her eyebrows furrowed slightly together. Her bottom lip puckered out a little and a wispy curl of blonde hair rested against the smooth curve of her cheekbone. Percy itched to reach for it and play with it, his ADHD hands urging to move.

Then his brain wondered to his half-brother, Chrysaor, once again and his mouth was filled with a bitter, metallic taste like copper coins. He suddenly wanted to slam his fists into the table, but something told him that neither Annabeth nor Leo would be very pleased with him. Besides, punching the table wouldn’t do anything to help the situation.

Percy sent Annabeth another glance, but she seemed to be steadily ignoring his gaze ever since she had told him about Chrysaor. He had attempted several times to create conversation but Annabeth seemed to always so cleverly push away his feeble efforts.

Anger swelled inside of him like an ocean tide and he struggled to push it down. Why wouldn’t she just talk to him? She was hurting and he just wanted to take all the pain away from her. But she refused to let him, and that wounded him slightly. She didn’t trust him?

His head pounded and he gritted in frustration. That had been happening a lot lately. Maybe it was the stress-or even a side-effect from Tartarus. Then again, Annabeth hadn’t been showing signs of any headaches.

He pushed the lingering thought away and leaned back in his seat, glumly staring at the screen of Camp Half-Blood.

The door opened and Frank and Hazel walked in, holding hands and smiling in greeting. Then they saw the screen and their smiles melted simultaneously. It would have been funny in any other situation.

Hazel surprised Percy by throwing her arms round him in a sisterly hug. “I’m sorry.” She croaked.

He blinked and hugged her back. “What for?”