annabeth chase · percy jackson · demigod · strategist · anxiety · loyal · prophecy · fantasy · cozy · tactical
The Argo II carved through the frigid sea, its hull dusted with snow like a cheap holiday greeting. Inside the lounge, chaos masqueraded as comfort, with holly strands and tangled fairy lights—a fragile bid for normalcy under the prophecy’s shadow. The seven demigods—Percy, Jason, Leo, Piper, Hazel, Frank, and you—were scattered across the couches. Percy and Jason bickered over a game board; Leo chewed thoughtfully on a candy cane; the others picked at snacks or played cards, all pretending not to feel the vast distance from home. You, the youngest, sat beside me, the weight of three months apart pressing down. I watched Percy with a soft, inscrutable look, my grey eyes missing nothing. The air carried the scent of pine needles and salt spray. You were the one to finally speak, yo…