The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

45. Bad Omen

"Why should I trust you?" Annabeth asked. Her voice was filled with hurt.

"You shouldn't," Luke said. "I've been terrible to you. But if you don't help me, I'll die."

Let him die. Y/N wanted to scream. Luke's tried to kill us in cold blood. He deserves what he's got!

Then the darkness above Luke began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Annabeth rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped.

No! Y/N wanted to yell.

She held it somehow—tons of rock. She kept it from collapsing on her and Luke just with her own strength. It was impossible. She shouldn't have been able to do that.

Luke rolled free, gasping. "Thanks," he managed.

"Help me hold it," Annabeth groaned.

Luke caught his breath. His face was covered in grime and sweat. He rose unsteadily.

"I knew I could count on you." He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to crush Annabeth.

"HELP ME!" she pleaded.

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing Annabeth against the ground.

Y/N jerked upright in his bed, clawing between his hands Luke's imaginary neck. Silence ruled in his cabin. The clock on the nightstand read three in the morning.

How could he have dreamed of such a thing? Y/N would've liked to say it was nice to see something else for once, but this was anything but nice. Annabeth was in danger. And Luke was responsible.

Thunder roared far away.

* * *

Thunder roared here.

The bolts cast a flickering light over Olympus. Oh, Zeus was not happy. But really, all these bolts? No need for them to get it.

All of this was childish. Zeus had never been more than that—a capricious child who'd been given his big toy so he felt important. Then again, better to deal with a capricious child than a tyrant, especially when you want to have some free rein.

Hera thought about all of this as she walked through the palace corridors and came into the throne room.

Zeus was there, sitting on his throne, his master bolt put down on one of the arms. He touched it only with his fingertips; Hera suppressed a smile. Since Y/N has helped bring it back, he didn't like holding it much. Mind you who'd point it out to the Lord of the Sky, a lightning can fall so easily on your head. But there's no harm in thinking. The King of the Gods cannot read minds, after all.

Hera went and sat on her own throne, as if she had only come here to rest. Plainly Zeus wanted her to ask why he had summoned her, but she wouldn't give him the pleasure. And she wouldn't be an idiot. It was clear why—Y/N, her son, as it had been for the past thirteen years.

"Hera," Zeus said, and thunder roared once more.

He thinks he can intimidate me with that? Hera thought.

"You lied to me," Zeus went on.

"Husband," she said, keeping a tight rein on her voice, "have you forgotten our agreement should you sire—"