Heroes of Olympus Series. Annabeth Chase X Male Reader Story

Witnessing Gratuitous Celebrity Cameos

(Y/N)'s POV

He tried to come to terms with it himself. To keep her out of it, fearing she had enough of a burden on her shoulders already, as the high of killing the pirate captain and his crew died down, (Y/N) began to think of his visit from the sea god.

His words, his warning of what was to come kicked (Y/N) into action. With Rome on the horizon, with Nico so close, his mind raced. He had the feeling he was finally about to get his answer to the question that always haunted him, 

"Why?" He had asked himself over and over again. It hadn't changed even from back then, even now, that question hadn't changed. "Why had his mother been taken from him? Who was responsible?" the thought weighed him down. 

He tried to bury it again, he tried not to let it consume him. He tried to restrain his thoughts, his mind telling him that he and his friends had bigger issues to worry about, that it was in the past now, and that Gaea should have been his only concern.

The mark of Athena, his missing friend and the earth mother, that was burden enough. Still, there was always that nagging thought in the back of his mind, the constant pull of the unknown.

He tried to keep it down, bury it deep, but the second he was reminded of it again, it was like his mind would spark to life, the endless questions resurfacing in him. The clues he had been given on his journey were finally adding up to something.

He thought back to the mysterious 'him' figure the god spoke of, then further back, to the thief he once killed on a roof wanting escape from Circe's grip. Then to Circe herself, whom upon her death mentioned something similar. 

"You don't understand how cruel he is. He enjoys it, he enjoys it..." (Y/N) could feel the puppet strings around him slowly begin to reveal themselves, and soon, he wondered if he'd meet the puppeteer.

As he pondered the cruel puppeteer (Y/N) wondered if this was how Annabeth felt, scribbling her little notes on sticky notes, chasing after the fleeting thought that maybe this time would be different, maybe this time, she would make a breakthrough.

He had had these thoughts, these exact thoughts, so many times before, he found himself close to answers before, but they always seemed to slip away from him. So, he became the thing he hated most. He began using sticky notes.

Now matter how hard he tried to dig at the answers, to find the truth, there was always one loose thread. It all kept coming back to one thing, the one string that connected it all, one part of the puzzle that he hadn't taken seriously. The prophecy.

He recited it over and over again. Trying to uncover the meaning behind the words. "From ancient magics born of pain, the dead shall rise to fight again. Champion of one blessed by rain, fights for a name he must attain. Oath breaker freed of the ties that bind, hunts the child of shattered mind." 

"It falls to luck that the lost must find, for they only prevail with strength combined. To abandon years of the deepest hate, a final hero must close the gate. If death is freed from the chains of fate, a child assures seven shall become eight.

No matter how he twisted them, how he thought about them, there was something wrong. It was like the words didn't taste right in his mouth. Something was different about this prophecy. At first he thought it was a difference caused by the Roman/Greek divide, but that wasn't it.

He thought back to his old prophecy, the one that came true. "To spare a friend, a choice must be made. To defy fate, your first love shall fade. Death rides on the back of a lightning split sky. For the day you bow is the day you must die. Slayer of monsters, who makes titans fall. Your choice is to spare the old gods or kill them all."