Percy Jackson Fanfics

hold on (i'll fix you)

Title: hold on (i'll fix you)
Author: lizamarri
Site: Archive of Our Own
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411095

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“We’re probably insane,” Annabeth murmurs. Her hand is wrapped tightly in Percy’s

“I know,” He breathes. “But we’ve gone over this. It’s the only way.”

Annabeth bows her head. “I just want them back.”

Percy Jackson shields his girlfriend from the splitting storms of shattered glass, he covers his body with hers when the wind turns to ice. He feeds her ambrosia and lets her force nectar down his throat. This is the only way there’s any semblance of a happy ending, any small chance for a normal life.

“We’re almost there,” Annabeth rasps.

Tartarus has taken its toll. Both of them are covered in cuts and bruises, worn through to the bone. They went into the Pit by choice this time, stocked up with weapons and supplies. That didn’t make it less daunting, and to this day it’s the hardest decision Percy’s had to make.

It wasn’t a decision following Annabeth for the first time, in case anyone’s wondering. No, that was never something he debated himself on.

At least they knew what to expect.

Annabeth raises a shaky finger into the seemingly empty abyss. “Look.”

At first he sees nothing, And then, a sudden glow seeps through the dust and blood that’s a permanent shroud around this place. The etched lines of a sarcophagus Percy spent months trying to forget materializes before his eyes.

Jackson, a looming voice booms. It sounds like sandpaper and nails on a chalkboard, but Percy stopped being afraid a long time ago. “Kronos,” He proclaims. “We’re here to offer a gift.”

And what gift is that, Sea Child. What could you give me?

“Freedom,” Annabeth chokes. “Freedom to wander around this damn pit wherever you please. Freedom to stay away from the box you’re penned up in.”

It seems no better then where I am. I will not help you

“You will,” Annabeth growls. “You will help us because you are compelled.”

You compel me to nothing.

Annabeth limps forward, standing right before the sarcophagus. “Actually, you owe me a promise.”

Stupid Wisdom Child. I owe you nothing.

“Family,” Annabeth gasps. “You owe me family.” A trickle of blood descends from her lip, creating the sickly look of an empousa on her face. “Luke Castellan promised me family. He delivered by keeping my family without him safe from you. But your war sparked others, and Luke’s promise isn’t fulfilled yet.” She leans closer, wiping the blood from her face so fast it smears ungainly. “You owe me the chance to get my family back. You’re going to swear on the River Styx to send me and Percy back in time to before he was claimed. You’re going to return us to our exact same bodies with all of our current memories, and you will tell no one of it. Then, when we call for you to take us home, you’ll do just that.”

A silence echoes from the sarcophagus.

“Or I could let you rot at the mercy of the Styx,” Annabeth threatens. “Without her curse you will be relieved of pain, free to move about your prison.”

As you wish, Wisdom’s Daughter, his voice booms. But beware the fact that you could lose more then you will gain.

Percy watches as Annabeth steels herself, spine turning to iron. That’s the last thing he sees before his vision cuts out in a spray of wind and glass.