Heroes of Olympus Series. Annabeth Chase X Male Reader Story

Fighting Through the Past

...POV

He could barely breathe, the fear was consuming him so much that he couldn't even think, he wanted to run, he wanted to crawl into a ball and hide, to shut out his fears. But that sound, that horrible sound, he couldn't escape it.

The beating of wings, the screeching of monsters, and the crackle of fire felt so close to him that he dared not take a breath, he didn't know if this fear was truly his, but he felt it regardless, so clearly that tears were welling in his eyes.

"Calm down. Don't think about it. Just try to remember something." He urged, remember something? How was that meant to help him, they were coming, they had found him again, he was going to die.

"Like what?" He asked, sure that there were very few things in this world that could make this situation okay again. He felt his sleeve move down, his eyes focusing on the SPQR his own voice asked, "Do you remember this?"

He tried, he really did, but there was nothing hopeful associated with that brand, it was a mark of pain, a mark of failure. He closed his eyes, trying to remember, until it all hit him at once, painful but purposeful.

The river of his thoughts overtook him, and he was torn between his memories of the past and the fear he felt in the present. He felt himself floating away, just like the first time. Before he woke up. Then, in a second of epiphany, it came to him

Of course he remembered, he knew that time of his life better than he did with reality, he looked at his brand and remembered the injuries he had sustained in the fight he won, the last time, the only time he had won against her.

He recalled her growling at him during his training, as blood had poured down his arm and she snapped at him, "Not the first time you've made a promise, not the first time you've broken one!"

She didn't seem happy, but he was. It was the first time that he had survived the night, it was the first time that she had shown him some kindness, it wasn't a happy memory entirely, but it was one that chased away the fear in his chest. After all, she taught him not to be afraid.

He remembered it differently day by day. On days the world was good, he woke to the sight of white beaches and a crystal-clear ocean, fresh air in his lungs and a smile across his face as he awoke.

But on the worse days, the days he remembered clearly, the earth was hard and dry, he woke covered in dirt, clinging to air as the monsters around him howled and snarled at him, circling their prey.

Neither dream was more convincing then that last, neither truth was entirely a lie. He knew deep down that he had felt both feelings, both of these moments. Perhaps separately, perhaps all at once.

The more of them he tried to remember, the less understanding of them were in his reach, whenever he came remotely close to understanding even a fraction of one's meaning, the other would overtake him.

As he looked past the sand covered beaches and saw the grass before him, with the morning dew hinting at the air, the wolves would howl once more, and his fight would begin anew. This time was no different.

Looking down at the tattoo, he remembered the first time he had woken there, with a voice in his ear, telling him something important, warning him of the dangers to come, and telling him why he was here.

But of course. That part was a little hazy, because why would his life ever be that simple? What he did remember through the haze was the first time the wolves had found him, the first time he was ever spoken to.

When his eyes opened, he was surrounded by trees, he never remembered how he got there, but he felt like he had always been there. Before the monsters chased him, before the doors opened, he was here.