The Curse of Achilles (PJO AU)

The House of Hades (Part 1)

Falling into Tartarus

Percy didn't know how long he and Annabeth had been falling—hours? Days? It felt like an eternity. They'd been holding hands ever since they dropped into the chasm. Now, Percy pulled her close, hugging her tight as they tumbled through absolute darkness.

Wind whistled in Percy's ears. The air grew hotter and damper, as if they were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon. Adrenaline coursed through his body, washing away his earlier exhaustion from the fight against Otis and Ephialtes.

Your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, Bacchus had said. Yeah, Percy would say that searching for the Doors of Death in Tartarus—a place that not even the gods went to and that had almost driven Nico insane, while fighting off hundreds of monsters—qualified as a little harder than he'd expected.

He wished he weren't here. He wished Annabeth weren't here. It was ripping his heart to bits that she was here, about to encounter their worst nightmares. He couldn't save her this time. They would probably be flattened on impact once they reached the bottom of this pit—assuming there was a bottom.

The one who was to blame, however, was Arachne. Annabeth had tricked and trapped her, but she'd still gotten her revenge by tangling Annabeth's leg in her spider silk and dragging her over the side of the pit, with Percy in tow. He almost hoped Arachne was still alive somewhere below them in the darkness. He wanted to make her pay for everything she'd ever done to Athena's kids—but especially for tormenting Annabeth. Annabeth had done beautifully in outsmarting her, but Percy knew how terrifying it must have been for her. She had told him about her encounters with spiders in the past, and the whole Mark of Athena thing had rattled her. If they managed to reach the bottom alive and find Arachne, Percy was going to enjoy himself.

Annabeth wrapped her arms tighter around Percy, and he thought he heard her choke back a sob. Percy didn't blame her. He'd never expected his life to be easy once he found out about his father. Most demigods died young at the hands of terrible monsters. That was the way it had been since ancient times. The Greeks invented tragedy. They knew the greatest heroes didn't get happy endings. That was why Percy's mother had named him after Perseus—the only hero to actually live in the end—in the hopes that Percy would inherit his luck.

This wasn't fair. Percy and Annabeth had been through so much together just to survive. Annabeth had done the impossible and recovered the statue of Athena. Just when she'd succeeded, when things had been looking up and he'd been reunited with her, they had plunged to their deaths.

Even the gods couldn't devise a fate so twisted.

But Gaea wasn't like other gods. The Earth Mother was older, more vicious, more bloodthirsty. Percy could imagine her laughing as they fell into the depths.

Annabeth pressed her lips to Percy's ear. He could barely hear her when she said, "I love you."

Percy squeezed her tighter. "I love you," he told her. He was thinking the same thing she must have been—if they died, he wanted those to be his last words.

Percy had no plan. It didn't seem like Annabeth did either, which would have been surprising if the situation weren't so hopeless and terrifying. As a daughter of Athena, she almost always had a plan. But Percy didn't blame her for not having one now—they were literally falling into Tartarus. What was there to do?

Neither of them had the power to fly—not like Jason, who could control the wind, or Frank, who could turn into a winged animal. If they reached the bottom at terminal velocity . . . well, Annabeth had taught Percy enough to know it would be terminal.