House of Hades

XXVII-- Annabeth

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XXVII—Annabeth

Annabeth was relieved and worried all at once.

She was relieved that she had finally done it—fixed the feud between Athena and Arachne, but now she was worried that she wouldn’t reach the Doors of Death, much less escape Tartarus alive.

There was still no sign of Percy, and Annabeth was beginning to lose hope.

The daughter of Athena was slightly freaked out by the effects of the Lethe water on Arachne. The spider was so… cheerful—the exact opposite of what she had been just minutes ago.

Annabeth was scared that this was just a temporary thing-- that Arachne will snap out of her happy daze and return to her previously bitter, Athena-hating self. The demigod hoped that this wasn’t only some hallucination that Tartarus had planted in her head to throw her off—that the real Arachne still wasn’t hatefully planning Annabeth’s near-demise at some cave she would come across later on.

“Here, Annabeth. What do you think?” Arachne asked, holding up a half-finished weaving. It depicted what looked like a little village—a gated community with golden gates and within these, there were Greek buildings, Roman marble mansions, and Victorian villas everywhere.

It vaguely reminded Annabeth of some pictures that she had seen of Elysium—the final resting place of the dead heroes and other good people.

“It looks… wow,” Annabeth could only say. Her response was due to several reasons—one, she was still shocked that Arachne was being so nice to her, and that the arachnid hadn’t attacked her yet, biting off her head or ripping her apart with her venomous pincers, just as Annabeth was sure the spider had done to her previous step-siblings that had been unfortunate enough to encounter the creature. And two, she really was taken away by the beauty of the tapestry, despite the fact that it was only half-done. Somehow, Arachne had made the image look so real, so three-dimensional, that Annabeth could swear that she was looking over Elysium right at that very moment. The way she had used different tints and tones, and the way she had captured the light in the scene was mind-blowing, and at that moment, Annabeth’s respect for Arachne grew—respect for her truly god-like weaving abilities.

Arachne gave a toothy grin at the demigod’s stunned response, and took a look at the weaving herself, admiring her own work. “I know it’s only half-finished, but I just wanted to see what you thought.”

“I think it looks great, but listen, Arachne,” Annabeth said. She had to get moving—reach the first-level gates and regroup with the others.

The spider stopped her weaving and faced the daughter of Athena, her eight black eyes staring straight into Annabeth’s stormy grey ones. It made Annabeth slightly uncomfortable—her fear of spiders still hadn’t completely dissipated—and it took almost all of her will-power not to whimper or turn away.

The demigod cleared her throat. “I, uh, I have to go…” she began, but was interrupted by Arachne making a sound in disbelief.

“Nonsense!” the spider exclaimed. “Ooh, really? But, Annabeth, the fun has just begun!”

Arachne spoke like a five year old child, begging her mother for extra playtime before going to bed, or extra dessert at the dinner table. The spider took several steps closer to the daughter of Athena with her eight spindly, barbed-wire legs, and Annabeth couldn’t help but take a step back.