Heroes of Olympus Series. Annabeth Chase X Male Reader Story

Narrowly Avoiding Bedazzling Ourselves

"It was a good thing, what you did, back then, and just now, you eased her pain" Annabeth began, probably about to tell him that killing Scylla was self-defence and that it was necessary, but that's not what bothered him. "Did I?" He muttered.

He understood all that, it was the thing that kept him moving, what was bothering him was something else. "It was a good thing, that nobody told me to do there was no agenda behind it, no hidden scheme or plot."

He sighed, "It was a reminder that I wasn't all bad. A little light of kindness I had as a reminder, but Tartarus couldn't let me have that. It had to take it away and blemish it with...THAT!" He said pointing behind them to the ruined cave, his voice rising.

He wanted to scream and shout, he wanted to vent his frustration, but there was another little evil thing about this place, he couldn't. otherwise, he risked bringing hordes of monsters their way in search of an easy lunch.

Instead, he just gritted his teeth and faced forward, "Let's keep moving." He said to Annabeth, who squeezed his free hand as they finally reached their destination, the first hurdle in their journey cleared.

Annabeth's POV

When they reached the ledge, Annabeth was sure she'd signed their death warrants. The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon.

A river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces. Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense.

The chill of the river Cocytus hadn't left Annabeth's bones, but now her face felt raw and sunburned. Every breath took more effort, as if her chest was filled with Styrofoam peanuts.

The cuts on her hands bled more rather than less. Annabeth's foot, which had been almost healed, seemed to be reinjuring itself. She'd taken off her makeshift cast, but now she regretted it.

Each step made her wince. Assuming they could make it down to the fiery river, which she doubted, her plan seemed certifiably insane. "Uh..." (Y/N) examined the cliff. He pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom.

"We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down. I don't want to risk trying to fly and falling in." He didn't say they'd be crazy to try. He managed to sound hopeful.

Annabeth was grateful for that, but she also worried that she was leading him to his doom. Of course, if they stayed here, they would die anyway. Blisters had started to form on their arms from exposure to the Tartarus air.

The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone. (Y/N) went first, claiming he would be able to save himself if he fell. The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold.

Their hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock. Every time Annabeth put pressure on her bad foot, she wanted to yelp. She'd ripped off the sleeves of her T-shirt and used the cloth to wrap her bloody palms, but her fingers were still slippery and weak.

A few steps below her, (Y/N) grunted as he reached for another handhold. "I can never pronounce this place correctly." "What? The Phlegethon," she said. "You should concentrate on going down."

"Yeah, just saying it hurts my tongue" He shinnied along the ledge. They'd made it roughly a third of the way down the cliff—still high enough up to die if they fell. "Sounds like a marathon for hawking spitballs."

"Please don't make me laugh," she said. "Just trying to keep things light." "Thanks," she grunted, nearly missing the ledge with her bad foot. "I'll have a smile on my face as I plummet to my death."