Chapter Text
Countless never ending scrolls sprawl across the floors of a library, myths etched into every inch of parchment. On a closer inspection, the myths don't resemble any in this universe. Quills made of owl feathers flit back and forth across the scrolls, all of them surrounding one figure in the middle. Armor fits on them as if it was a second skin, the sliver glinting in the light.
The scrolls nearest to them depict the same image over and over again, a child held in the arms of their mother. Envy drips from —who could only be called divine— the goddess's eyes as they trace the family. The quill in their hand is rapidly scribbling out a list of names.
But for the past 5 iterations, the same name is repeated: Annabeth. Over and over again, until the goddess could practically hear it spill it from her mouth. So Athena —the maiden goddess of wisdom, war, and weaving— curls the letters in her mouth, "Annabeth. Annabeth, my daughter who's forever a shade lost in my mind." A type of haunting empty wanting follows the declaration. The only kind remaining from certain type of cruelty of a goddess with a cursed bloodline to never bear a child without cost.
A restless night grasps at Annabeth, intertwining her within familiar memories. But there was no comfort here, not for her. The feeling of spider webs feeds into the panic building in her chest. A statue of a goddess with cold eyes. Scorching hot air searing her nostrils and liquid fire sliding down her throat. A flash of a cursed blade. A brother: bleeding, dying, and scorned.
She wants to leave. She can't handle this, not again. Isn't living through it once enough? Why must they haunt her? Her mouth is sealed shut yet she pleads, begging for a reprieve she knows will not come. An owl calls in the distance. Annabeth's downwards spiral halts abruptly as the symbol registers. It's low, mournful even, a tone she would never associate her mother with.
Annabeth. She turns to face the voice but there's no one there. Annabeth. Her voice cracks as she speaks, "Mother? Where are you?"
My daughter…lost in… mind. A gray sparkling string appears out of nowhere, dangling enticingly among her nightmares. She seizes it with a near hysterical desperation. Anything to escape the horrors her mind conjured. But it wasn't a goddess's whim to release her daughter from the nightmare plaguing her own mind. No, it was something else entirely. it started looping around her arms and tightening with a single minded goal.
Relief faltered instantly, leaving her with nothing but a need for freedom. She tries to yank her arms out, but the threads just dug in more. Swirling and circling her even as she fights against it. Oh gods, why did she think her mother would ever help her. The sound of a thread going taut rings out as she's cocooned entirely.
Suddenly, she's being stretched. Vertically, horizontally, and gods she doesn't know anymore. Hysterically, she's reminded of Crusty's water beds from her first quest. A whisper flits by, so quick she nearly misses it, "Precious one, don't worry they will treasure you when these other gods have not."
She notes how they think of her as precious, perhaps an opportunity for manipulation, "Stop! Please it hurts, I don't- I don't want this. You're hurting me!" The tightening of the strings immediately lets up, only clinging on loosely around her. It's so abrupt that she doesn't have time to kick them off before something else scoops her up.
"Almost there, just need to make you younger."
A shiver runs down her spine, there's only one Greek being with time as their domain. But how did Kronos gain enough power for this? More importantly, why is he doing this and where is she being taken to? She's about to ask before the feeling of being on the run washes over her. Not just from any time she ran away, but the dim warmth she gets when she thinks back to when her family was only Luke and Thalia.
An echoey giggle resounds all around her, "Not Kronos, little architect. But you were twelve on your first quest? A brutal end to your childhood, but I can give you another in this universe."
Alarm bells ring in her mind as she tries to find the books on myths in her library, but the hazy feeling muffles the terror she knows she feels. Her blinks get longer and longer, no matter how hard she tries to keep them open. Soon, she slips into unconsciousness.
Grass brushes against Annabeth's arms, did she fall asleep in the strawberry fields with Percy again? Gods, she should probably get them back into their cabins before Mr. D finds them. Or worse, her mother. That memory was probably the most horrible one she has if she's being honest. She swings her left arm back, patting around to find her soulmate whose always close behind.
Her brow furrows as she finds to trace of him, then her bleary eyes blink open to try and see him. Nothing. More importantly, she doesn't recognize where she is at all. Not a tree, stone, or even the clearing she's in. And oh gods she's tiny.
Years of training and being a runaway snaps her awake immediately. Her hand swinging to her side to grip her sword. The familiar feel of leather calms her nerves as she surveys the area. Empty, only the noises of nature curls in the air. The longer no new noises happens, the calmer she feels. Eventually, it was enough for her to drop her guard. Now to take stock.
While she's now twelve again, she does still have her sword and cap. Although the sword is too heavy for her to truly weld it, she could stab someone in an emergency. A new book opens in her mind and she neatly notes down 'find new weapon' on it. No ambrosia or her questing bag. Her nightmare comes back in bits and pieces. As always, she categorizes it: a powerful unknown hostile(?) who can use the time domain; something that can mimic her mother's calling so well that she fell for it; she has been taken to a secondary place; and for some reason, she's considered as something precious. Enough that they wouldn't hurt her.
Annabeth's sharp gray eyes trace over the foliage, each species making her concern raise. There's only one place where all of these plants would grow together. Why is she in ancient Greece? Sure, they have access to the time domain, but what do they get from putting her here?
They referred to the gods as other, like they're not their gods. Could it be that this time period is where they're originally from? And what do they even mean by treasuring her. She's not stupid, compared to other demigods, her relationship with her godly parent is neutral at best. At worse, Athena can barely look at her whenever she's up on Olympus.
The gray strands of hair and quiet ache in her lungs only adds more questions. She was de-aged yet her scars and wounds remain. The only thing she can do now is gather more information. A city or village would be preferable but it's not like she can be picky.
She nearly sends a prayer up to Hermes before remembering that she shouldn't catch the god's attention. Three minutes in and she almost screws up; gods, what did she do to be brought here. The tales of ancient gods stored in her mind are now a warning rather than just tales. And she knows just how badly women are treated in this time period.
The light weight on her side now feels so much more valuable as it sinks in just where she's at. Her status as a demigod can't protect her from everything— Wait, does her mother have kids yet?
Panic starts welling up again before she roughly shoves it down. Information first and panic attacks second. With that, she hurries out of the clearing.
Tents covers the field ahead of her, different symbols sectioning the camp. A war camp, Annabeth notes as she eyes the armor littered around. Her Yankee's cap is set firmly on her head, rendering her invisible to mortals and monsters alike. Her eyes darts between the symbols, greedily taking in information.
She's just about to check out a different section when she sees it. An embroidered owl with a bow, Odysseus's family crest. The tent was deep within the camp, if she were to check it out she has to be careful.
Her footsteps are completely silent as she makes her way over, perks of being raised by a Hermes kid. The whispered leers of the soldiers makes her antsy as they talk about the women by the river. She doesn't try to overhear any more information after that. Winds drift through the camp, allowing her to catch brief glimpses into tents. Then a wide clearing with training dummies filled with soldiers appears, most of them jeering on the ones sparring in the middle.
She's about to avoid it no matter the cost before a dagger catches her eyes. Despite looking ordinary, her blood sings when she lays eyes on it, drawing her in. If it wasn't for the fine layer of dust that covers it, she probably would've thought it was some ceremonial blade based on the intricate feathers engraved on it.
It's a small bronze dagger, tiny enough that she could wield it comfortably. And well, she did have a checklist to complete. It wasn't even a challenge to scoop it up —along with its sheathe— and strap it on her swordless thigh. Then she moves on, leaving the crime scene behind.
Odysseus's banner waves tauntingly in the wind, a beacon signaling where the tent is. Not like she's gonna complain about the security issue when it benefits her. More importantly, the entrance is drawn wide open, as if inviting her in. The only caveat is that the owner and another soldier is inside. Based on the lavish bronze chest plate with numerous dolphin —Thetis's symbol, her mind supplies— engravings, this was probably Achilles.
A war camp, a young Odysseus, and an alive Achilles. There's only one myth with all three of these: the Trojan war. If Annabeth could afford to speak right now, she would spill every single sailor curse Percy taught her in alphabetical order. But no, she has to be extra careful since her mother oversees this camp. At least her death would be quick if she's caught, this Sea would drown her slowly.
They're talking loud enough that she can overhear without entering the tent, but it seems as if it's nothing too important. Although, even with being able to understand ancient Greek, none of the conversation makes sense to her.
"Your patron gifted you another blessing? I thought the Styx's curse was the only one you'd get."
"With the glory I'm bringing her through the war, she saw it fit to bless me with the lungs of the sea. Poseidon may not like me but I cannot drown. With this, I may be able to push through the river and secure a bridge."
"An invulnerable soldier who can breathe underwater? I can already think of several plans that may lead us to victory."
The conversation devolves into war planning from there, but Annabeth's mind was already reeling. None of that made sense, in fact, it made so little sense that she's practically begging for this to be a weird dream. Why use patron instead of mother? Unless there's another goddess involved, but Poseidon is siding with the Trojans; which water god would dare go against him for a hero they have no relation to?
And 'blessing' implies that he had not gotten it from his blood, not from the diluted ichor in his veins. Nothing is going according to the myth emblazoned in her mind, stripping her of the one advantage she holds. She needs more information, something is very wrong here.
Just as she takes one step back, she hears the shouting of drunken soldiers. Most of them are goading on someone else to tell myths, something about being the best story teller in camp. If she wants answers, that's where she'll find them. She dips between tents again before finding a crate on the edge of the crowd.
The wood doesn't even creak as she perches on it, giving her the height needed to peer over the grown adults. Not for the first time, she curses her younger body. But she doesn't have time to dwell on that, not when the myths from the story teller's lips were none she knows.
A curse, a child bearing curse on the most promiscuous beings in the universe. Is she even in the same universe, oh gods she just gonna ignore that for now. Does Olympus even have the second generation? Does her mother even— wait no she does. Annabeth huffs, annoyed that her life is in fact, not easier. But even with the confirmation of all the main gods, it doesn't stop the fact that nearly every minor god doesn't exist. She half wishes to leave right now and have a mental breakdown under the cover of the forest, but she needs to know about demigods.
And oh gods does she learn. A cycle of repeated life and death, of ichor becoming poison in veins and damning babies into monsters. The near insanity of cursed monsters, forever banished to roam the lands for golden blood. Of the only demigod to ever live by becoming a god. How in replacement of demigod heroes, there are now champions. Blessed mortal children made to take on the mantle of monster slaying for their patron, for they cannot bear to end their own children's suffering. Of goddesses taking vows to have neither children nor champions to save themselves.
Her mother is a maiden goddess; moreover, she's a goddess of a linage that cannot have demigod children. Oh, Annabeth is so screwed, she completely prefers the predictable disdain of her original mother over the unknown variable this causes. She vaguely notes down the tale of Thetis claiming Achilles as her champion, blessing him with a dip into the Styx to kill the hydra born from her daughter.
Gods, she needs to leave, like right now. Even in her disoriented state, she just barely manages to squeak out the camp undetected. But she still nearly hurls the meager food in her stomach. She doesn't, not when she intimately knows the suffering of starvation, but it is a close thing.
She has nothing. No supplies, none of her war veteran fighting skills, no information, not a single advantage she can play into, and most importantly, no Percy. In a complete different universe, where she's not even supposed to exist. And a time period where women literally don't have rights.
No help will come because who would even think of an unproven multiverse theory. Even then, how would they even get her out of here? The gods didn't help when the world was about to be destroyed, so why would they help out a single demigod? Tears start welling up inside her eyes as she thinks of the nonexistent chance of going home.
Annabeth wants to go home, she wants go back to sketching out more cabins, bicker with Jason over the designs, go to that girls' night out that Piper promised her. She wants to see Grover and learn about more wood types, even that means suffering through a hundred nymphs coming to bother them. She wants to be rubbing in the Athena's cabin latest capture the flag win into everyone's faces. She wants to make sure that she hasn't cursed another mother into baking cookies for a child who will never come home.
But most of all, she wants to see Percy again. To wake back up with the one constant in her life. Gods, she wishes he was here, but she can't damn him to another universe just for her.
Still, it doesn't stop her from saying it out loud, "I wish Percy was here." A flash of light has her freezing in place. A dazed familiar 12-year old boy sprawls out in front of her, his sea green eyes hazy. Even as dread and guilt slides down her spine, she can't keep the hope out of her voice, "Percy?"
His eyes snap to her, widening as they take her in, "Annabeth?"