Heroes of Olympus Series. Annabeth Chase X Male Reader Story

Making A Relic Cry

Annabeth's POV

Annabeth literally stumbled over the second Titan. After entering the storm front, they plodded on for what seemed like hours, relying on the light of (Y/N)'s Celestial bronze blade, and on Bob, who glowed faintly in the dark like some sort of crazy janitor angel.

Annabeth could only see about five feet in front of her. In a strange way, the Dark Lands reminded her of San Francisco, where her dad lived—on those summer afternoons when the fog bank rolled in like cold, wet packing material and swallowed Pacific Heights.

Except here in Tartarus, the fog was made of ink. Rocks loomed out of nowhere. Pits appeared at their feet, and Annabeth barely avoided falling in. Monstrous roars echoed in the gloom, but Annabeth couldn't tell where they came from.

All she could be certain of was that the terrain was still sloping down. Down seemed to be the only direction allowed in Tartarus. If Annabeth backtracked even a step, she felt tired and heavy, as if gravity were increasing to discourage her.

Assuming that the entire pit was the body of Tartarus, Annabeth had a nasty feeling they were marching straight down his throat. She was so preoccupied with that thought, she didn't notice the ledge until it was too late.

(Y/N) yelled, "Whoa!" He grabbed for her arm, but she was already falling. Fortunately, it was only a shallow depression. Most of it was filled with a monster blister. She had a soft landing on a warm bouncy surface and was feeling lucky.

Until she opened her eyes and found herself staring through a glowing gold membrane at another, much larger face. She screamed and flailed, toppling sideways off the mound.

Her heart did a hundred jumping jacks. (Y/N) helped her to her feet. "You okay?" She didn't trust herself to answer. If she opened her mouth, she might scream again, and that would be undignified.

She was a daughter of Athena, not some shrill girlie victim in a horror movie. But gods of Olympus... Curled in the membrane bubble in front of her was a fully formed Titan in golden armor, his skin the color of polished pennies.

His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry. Even through the blister, Annabeth could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Hyperion," (Y/N) said. "That's the tree guy right?" Annabeth's shoulder suddenly ached from an old wound. During the Battle of Manhattan, Percy had fought this Titan at the Reservoir—water against fire.

It had been the first time Percy had summoned a hurricane—which wasn't something Annabeth would ever forget. "I thought Grover turned this guy into a maple tree." "Yeah," (Y/N) agreed.

"The maple tree died, earthquake pulled up the roots and he wound up back here." Annabeth remembered how Hyperion had summoned fiery explosions, and how many satyrs and nymphs he'd destroyed before Percy and Grover stopped him.

She was about to suggest that they burst Hyperion's bubble before he woke up. He looked ready to pop out at any moment and start charbroiling everything in his path. Then she glanced at Bob.

The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentration —maybe recognition. Their faces looked so much alike.... Annabeth bit back a curse. Of course they looked alike.

Hyperion was his brother. Hyperion was the Titan lord of the east. Iapetus, Bob, was the lord of the west. Take away Bob's broom and his janitor's clothes, put him in armor and cut his hair, change his color scheme from silver to gold, and Iapetus would have been almost indistinguishable from Hyperion.

"Bob," she said, "we should go." "Gold, not silver," Bob murmured. "But he looks like me." "Bob," (Y/N) said. "Hey, buddy, over here." The Titan reluctantly turned. "Am I your friend?" (Y/N) asked.