Chapter Text
“What do you call these garments again?”
“Jeans, Perseus. They’re called jeans.”
“Jeans,” he enunciated with childlike wonder in his voice. “And what were the undergarments called?”
“Boxers.”
“Boxers,” he repeated, that same tone in his voice. “These garments are surprisingly comfortable. I don’t feel a draft like I would in my normal clothing.” He smiled at her.
He has a nice smile, Annabeth thought. A little crooked, but cute and sweet.
She tried not to blush not only at his smile but also at what happened over the past hour. When they got back to the cave she handed him some new clothes she had weaved for him (she had been weaving a lot as a form of stress relief) which he greatly appreciated. Thank goodness she had the wherewithal to have him change out of her sight or else she would have seen something that she shouldn’t have since she had weaved him modern underwear this time around.
Aside from that, it was a rather impulsive decision on her part to swear on the River Styx to free Perseus from this island, yet she was fully committed to the idea. When they spoke on that rock she saw fear, anger, but above all, she saw quiet resignation and acceptance in his voice and expression. She saw a man who had fallen into endless despair and it broke her heart.
She decided right at that moment that she had to do something about it even if it meant putting herself in danger. Especially since she knew firsthand how much being left behind hurt.
Her parents…Luke…Thalia…that feeling was always there mauling at her core. This time however, she had the chance to change that for someone else and she vowed that she would. She just hoped that her gut feeling about the prophecy was correct.
Perseus looked down at his legs which were covered in the jeans that Annabeth made for him. “They’re blue, my favorite color,” he commented with a grin. “Just like the shirt you made for me earlier. The color of the sky and the sea. Thank you, Annabeth.”
“You’re welcome,” Annabeth answered, going to grab a new white t-shirt that she weaved for him. She tried hard not to notice the fact that he was only wearing the jeans and could see the band of his boxers…
She realized, albeit slightly late, that she might have made a small miscalculation. Her initial plan had been to make him...less distracting to look at. That chiton he usually wore—although beautiful (he weaved it himself he had told her)—left parts of his upper body exposed and showed his long muscular legs. Her plan was to cover him up yet she thought modern clothing fit him handsomely. She had never been in denial about his good looks, more-so now that he was shirtless and wearing those damn jeans. Broad powerful chest (she took note of the bronze necklace with a sword pendant), deeply defined lines of his abdomen, broad shoulders and strong arms on full display!
...Well she slowly wanted to teach him more about the outside world. And that’s the reason she weaved new modern clothes for him.
“Here you should put this on,” Annabeth offered the shirt which he thankfully took and put on. Thank goodness that she adjusted the measurements so it wasn’t as tight on him as the first shirt she wove for him.
After thanking her once again (he was surprisingly kind mannered when he wasn’t being broody) they took a seat on the dining table to talk about their plans, crystals lighting the area.
“So,” Perseus began. “What are your plans?”
“How did…” Annabeth tried to speak but the words caught in her throat since she was unsure how he would react. “The other heroines,” she said as calmly as she could. “How did they leave?”
She expected his expression to darken, that he would yell or lash out at her again but was instead met with a quiet sigh, his hand running through his hair nervously.
“Many of the heroines that landed here were women of the sea who’s boats crashed or sunk,” he said solemnly. “Daphne, Anastasia, Anna Maria. I helped them build boats and then they left. Simple as that. Amelia however left when she finished building her flying machine.”
“I see,” Annabeth responded, taking in the names that he shared with her. Although she wanted to know more about those heroines in his life, she knew now wasn’t the best time to ask. “So, my plan,” she continued forward, moving her drawings so he could analyze them. “How long do you think it would take to build it?”
She wasn’t entirely sure, Annabeth’s previous building experience dealt with land structures as opposed to sea faring ones. Still she designed a simple, straightforward sailing boat. She didn’t need to design something as complicated as the Argo, just something to get them from point A to point B.
He stared at the drawing, mulling over every detail carefully with his fingers tracing the design and whispered. “The design is simple, yet effective. There’s some trees near the shore that will be perfect for the build and I can use a bit of my… abilities to make the process faster.”
The way he said abilities made it seem like he would be using magic to build the boat and he might as well be given he was the son of the sea god. In the back of her head she knew that she had only seen a small fraction of his power and a burning curiosity flowed through her to know more.
“How much time?” She asked, pushing the pertinent subject forward.
He tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “If everything goes well, a day or two at most, although we may have to work long into the night.”
“We can definitely do that,” Annabeth said, excitement in her voice at not only going back to her mission and friends but at getting Perseus out. “Where do we start?”
He was quiet for another moment as he continued to analyze her drawings. Then he bought his gaze to her, his eyes looking into hers. “To be more efficient I think we should divide the tasks. I can build the hull and the mast and you can weave the sail, rope and gather the provisions that we’ll need.”
For a fleeting moment she wanted to argue that it was her boat, that she should take a part in building the foundation, but she knew he was only doing what he thought would be the most efficient. She knew she was a much better weaver than a boat builder and she suspected he was a much better boat builder than a weaver.
So she agreed to his suggestions, albeit a bit reluctantly.
And then they set to work.
Before landing on this island, Annabeth hadn’t practiced her weaving skills that much. She knew that her mother, Athena, was the goddess of crafts and that included weaving, so the young demigod was able to apply some of her heritage into her craft. Although she had gotten practice with weaving clothes over the past couple of days, she hadn’t expected the sail to take much longer than she anticipated. She knew that the material had to be stronger than the cotton she used for clothes so she had to reinforce the strands to withstand the winds and pull the boat.
It also didn’t help that her ADHD was starting to get to her after sitting on the loom for hours on end while every couple of moments she heard chopping and hammering sounds coming from outside the cave which she suspected was Perseus building the boat.
At least one upside of being tasked with weaving the sail was that she had the cave to herself and her thoughts. Confusing and despondent thoughts if she was being honest. Similar to what she experienced when she woke up in the wolf house without any memories of her past life except for a vague feeling of love and companionship.
While she had been on the streets in her search for New Rome, she would dream of a young man staring into the sea with dark messy hair and sea green eyes. There wasn’t even a name that she could associate with him. She had no recollection of who it could be and when she asked the demigods from Camp Half Blood, they told her that they didn’t know anyone like that. She had chalked up the dreams to exhaustion and the anxiety of being in danger, but now that she thought about it, the young man in the dreams looked exactly like Perseus.
Which spurred even more questions. How could she even dream of someone that she had never met before? It all just seemed illogical to the daughter of Athena, yet she had met and befriended the person she had seen in those dreams. When she gave the subject some thought, she came to the conclusion that it wasn’t just a dream, but that she had seen a vision of the future.
Yet there was just…something different about the predicament. Like her soul was yearning in one direction while her body yearned in another or like rain on a sunny day. The juxtaposition of it all had her feeling many complex emotions.
And when she thought about it further, she had acted in ways that she normally wouldn’t have acted towards meeting new people. Annabeth was usually a guarded person when meeting new people, yet when she held hands with Perseus on the rock, or hugged him while he was having a nightmare, his touch felt so…familiar. His hands, large, calloused and warm fit into hers like they had been puzzle pieces made for the other. And that’s not mentioning the way that she whispered ‘I forgive you’ into his ear while he had been mumbling apologies in his stupor that stormy night.
She still wasn’t entirely sure where the words came from. She had initially suspected it was her way of comforting him. Yet the feeling felt so genuine coming from the recesses of her heart that it felt like she had actually forgiven him, even if she didn’t know what she was forgiven him for.
And it all just felt…right?
She sighed heavily once more, going back to her stitching of the sail, thoughts of her feelings for Perseus pushed away for the moment. She still had to retrieve the parthenos from underneath Rome which would be a task that she was not looking forward to.
By the time dusk hit Annabeth was more than halfway done with the sail. She was proud of herself as she saw her hard work come to fruition. If Perseus wasn’t proud of this sail, then damn him. What did he know about sailing?...
A great deal, her mind told her, but she would never admit it.
She also found herself hungry and for a fleeting moment she had considered cooking again, but remembered the look Perseus gave her when she had nearly burned the cave down. So that idea was binned. Thankfully however, he came into the cave panting slightly, white t-shirt fitting his body nicely and biceps still flexed and straining against the short sleeves from building the boat.
She purposefully kept her gaze on his eyes, trying to stop the redness on her face. He just had this effect on her for some reason since he stopped being distant. Her heart and breathing sped up slightly, she stumbled over her words, and heat rushed to her face.
He walked a bit further into the cave, looking down at the sail with an appraising look. “I knew it was the right choice to have you make the sail. You are quite the talented weaver.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled with a small smile which he reciprocated and caused her heart to speed up again.
Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to her flustered state that he went to the cave kitchen and asked. “Are you hungry?”
When she answered with her confirmation he began cooking their meal. All the while they had a brief discussion of how the boat was turning out. He told her that he laid the foundation for the hull and with a couple more hours of work it should be done. She herself told him about the progress in the sail, which he once again commended her expertise in weaving causing Annabeth to blush.
While they were having their dinner of bean soup with vegetables and bread he asked a question seemingly out the blue.
“Annabeth…what is the outside world like?” He asked so hesitantly like he was scared to know the answer for himself.
She pondered his question for a minute thinking of ways to answer where he could understand. She was sure that with him being on this isolated island almost anything would seem foreign to him. How would she be able to tell him how much humanity changed over the past two millennia from modern medicine to technology to engineering?
She came to the realization that she couldn’t, so she offered her own question in return to hopefully ease him into it.
“Those books,” she glanced at his desk where his old yellowed books lay. “How were you able to get them?”
“Hermes visits sometimes,” he answered after a moment. “He’s a good friend since we fought the giants together and he brings me the latest book on his visits.”
Considering the fact that the 'latest' book on the pile had been published more than fifty years prior it must have been a while since Hermes visited.
“Do you understand the books?” She asked, asking not just about the content of the books but also how he was able to understand them if they were in english. “They’re in English, not Ancient Greek.”
“Hermes granted me a small blessing that lets me understand whatever language the heroine that lands on my island speaks,” he explained. “You and the past heroine, Amelia, spoke English.”
“I see,” Annabeth responded. “...And the other ones?”
He stared at her for a moment. For a second she had expected him to get angry at her, to accuse her of bringing back old pains to the surface. But once again, he opened up to her, his walls slowly chipping away.
“Daphne was the first and she spoke Latin,” he mumbled before listing out the other ones. “Joan came after, she spoke French. Anna Maria spoke Spanish, Anastasia spoke Russian and Amelia spoke English, along with you.”
“The languages, can you still speak them?” Annabeth couldn’t help but ask.
He shrugged nervously. “Here and there. The blessing isn't as effective once…the heroine has left. I still retain some information, however.”
“I’m sorry,” Annabeth apologized almost immediately at his slight shift of tone knowing that she had brought up old hurts to the forefront. Although he had shared the information with her, she got the feeling that he did so reluctantly.
He looked confused. “What for? It feels like you’ve been apologizing many times.”
“Well for sharing this with me. I know it must hurt,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be,” he emphasized. “I told you because I trust you.”
Annabeth couldn’t help but give him a small smile, which he reciprocated. For a second the gesture and his words caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach, a feeling that she had become accustomed to the past couple of days. She wanted to think about it for longer, revel in its mystique.
Despite this, she realized that she hadn't answered his original question, nor had she asked another question she was curious about. She brought her gaze back to the books. “The content of the books, do you understand it?”
This time he had a look of sadness in his face and sighed heavily. “I’m afraid not. I’m unfamiliar with many things in them…but they serve their purpose of keeping me occupied and…they’re like my escape from this island.”
Again his tone was somber and melancholic. Judging by how worn out the books were, he had definitely read them several times. A window to a world that he couldn’t touch—just out of his reach.
“What kind of things?” She prompted, hoping to change the mood while having him list things so she could clarify or help him understand better. “I can try to help you understand.”
He stood up from the table then walked to the desk where he picked out the top book in the stack which just so happened to be The Great Gatsby.
He opened the pages and began reading out some passages. Annabeth could imagine what the book was describing since she was familiar with the layout of New York. In her head she saw the bustling streets of the city during the roaring 20’s. Bright lights, skyscrapers taller than any before, jazz music and parties more loud and vibrant than she had ever seen. It all painted an image of time long gone, a blip in the history of the city. The high before the low of the Great Depression.
Or at least that’s what the movie showed. She hadn’t read the book if she was being honest. She brought her gaze to him where he looked at her with a questioning look. “This New York, it’s a city, correct?”
“New York is a city,” Annabeth reassured him, slowly painting a picture for him. “A big city”
“Like Athens?”
“Bigger, much bigger with sky—” he wouldn’t have reference to skyscrapers. “—Structures so big and tall you have to crane your neck to see the tops.”
His eyes widened like she was trying to picture it himself.
“With lights so bright that they’re brighter than the moon and the stars at night,” she moved forward.
“That sounds…impossible,” Perseus almost seemed taken aback, his mind probably working to create the images.
“Humanity has changed a lot,” Annabeth said. “There’s so many things that we now know like far off lands and…” she stopped herself, not wanting to overwhelm him with all the information.
“...Like movies?” He asked, a sparkle in his eye. “The book mentioned it. What are they?”
“They’re moving pictures,” she winced slightly at his puzzled look, catching her mistake. Of course he wouldn’t have a reference for pictures either.
“...Then what are pictures?”
“A moment frozen in time,” Annabeth supplied.
Now he seemed more confused than before with his brow furrowed in concentration. “If movies are like moving pictures and pictures are moments frozen in time then…”
“Think of it like a theater play or like a painting that moves.”
That seemed to clarify it slightly, although he still looked confused. He decided to drop the subject of movies and offered another question. “What about cars?”
“Like a carriage,” she said. “But without the horses.”
“Does it move by itself then?”
Annabeth shook her head. “No, you're still inside the carriage and you can control how to move it.”
“And ice cream?”
“Sweet delicious cold milk dessert.”
“Have you had it before?”
“All the time.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Very.”
“Umm” he mulled his thoughts over. Again, there was a sparkle in his eyes when they made eye contact with her. “When we get out of here…Can we go see a movie—in a car while having ice cream in New York?”
Annabeth felt heat immediately flush her face. She knew he didn’t mean it like that, but unbeknownst to him, he had just asked her out on a date. Something that no one has asked before. She couldn’t believe that the first guy to do so would do it by accident.
Her quietness at the sudden proposition of a rendezvous must have ticked him off because his expression became soft and he began apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too much. You don’t have to—”
“No, no, Perseus,” she cut him off, trying to keep the blush on her face from taking over her entire body. “It’s nothing like that, it’s just…” no one has ever asked me out on a date before, her mind completed for her. “I just…” she looked back at him, his green eyes had a soft expression. “Yes, we can definitely do that.”
He smiled at her now. That cute slightly crooked smile. “Do you promise?”
Annabeth smiled back. “I promise. And I can show you many more things.”
His look grew inquisitive. “How many more things?”
“Ask away.”
And he did. She did her best to answer as many questions from his books as she could. She tried not to laugh at his crestfallen expression when she told him that The Hobbit was just a work of fantasy. That the elves, dwarves, hobbits and wizards didn’t exist out there in the real world as far as she knew. He asked about London and Monte Carlo from Rebecca, and she told him that like New York, they were large cities with their own charm.
All throughout their conversation, there was a small feeling in her stomach. A feeling so small that it could be ignored at first, but it grew with each passing minute as she talked to him. Like a butterfly’s wings creating a large hurricane, that warmth spread through her. Her smile, her body language, her looks towards him.
Everything just felt so right. She wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from. There wasn’t any proof, yet she just knew. Just being with him brought her so much joy—and she wasn’t entirely certain why that was.
