House of Hades

XXXIII--Percy

Disclaimer: Don’t own PJO or HOO… Rick Riordan does…

This chapter is dedicated to HeroofOlympus229…

Thanks for reading, following and suggesting names for Hazel and Frank!!! :)

Sorry, I won’t be using your nicknames in my story (like I said, I decided to use Dannyfantom191326’s names), but they were good, and you still deserve a deddie for being such a great follower!!! <3

Although this chappie is dedicated to HeroofOlympus, you guys know that I sometimes give shout-outs to people in my chappies, sometimes… So this chapter’s shout-out goes to…

Ilovepinecone! For many reasons: 1. She is just an AWESOMAZING follower!! And 2. Guess what, guys!!! Her birthday is on the 15th of August!!! So be a good person today and go tell her ‘Happy Birthday!’ right now!! <3

Guys, if you read my status, I know it would have said that this chappie should have been from Annabeth’s POV, but… Sorry, I made a mistake… Please forgive me!!! Like Hannah Montana said: ‘Everybody makes mistakes!’ Read that line in a high singing voice… lol, jk… ;P

Anyway, guys… You know what to do: read, comment, vote and FOLLOW!!! :)

XXXIII—Percy

Percy hoped that Annabeth had gotten through the cave safely, reached the second-level gates, and was waiting for him, uninjured, on the other side of them.

But she wouldn’t be uninjured—because Dr. Thorn had stabbed her with his stupid poisoned tail missiles.

A dull ache was building up behind his eyes, which he knew was caused by many factors that he had rather not think about now. But, unfortunately (or fortunately), his ADHD prevented him from focusing on the swirling feeling of the vortex known as the second-level gates.

He was tired and all his limbs drooped from exhaustion, his right arm still throbbing painfully from the bullet the skeleton soldier had fired at him when he had battled against Thorn—when had he last gotten a good night’s rest? Ever since the whole quest for the Mark of Athena started, the last time he remembered sleeping well was that time she and Annabeth had been caught sleeping together in the stables on the Argo II.

He was hungry, and his stomach rumbled angrily—when had he last eaten a proper meal? Ever since they had gotten stuck in Tartarus, the only thing he had eaten was one and a half granola bars. And that was just not cutting it for a ravenous teenage boy like himself. He recalled his trip through Rome with Annabeth—how they had eaten pizza, which had tasted like a bland mound of dough—but that was better than nothing.

He was thirsty, and his throat was dry and parched, feeling slightly raw from screaming Annabeth’s name. Despite his recent drink of water, his throat itched and burned from dehydration, and his lips were cracking and chapped. He was a son of Poseidon—son of the god of the seas—he needed water.

And worst of all he was lonely… and as much as he wanted to hide it, needed to hide it for Annabeth, he was terrified. The last time he had seen her, she had been weak, and pale, and stumbling, and gasping to catch her breath. The last time he had seen her, she had been hurt. And just that fact alone was enough to break the son of Poseidon down into a hysterical panic attack.

Where are you, Wisegirl? He asked himself, feeling his spirits sink lower and making him feel more desperate than ever.

The fact that he had come to terms that Annabeth was not with him—that she was alone—cause another wave of panic to wash over him with even more force and intensity than before.