The Arranged Marriage (Percy Jackson Fanfiction)

Thirteen

Percy stopped, placing his hand on the door knob, not sure what would be waiting for him on the other side. He hoped to all the gods in existence that Annabeth was still there—that Luke hadn't done anything to her. He breathed in deeply, and kicked the door open, his cape billowing out before him, his sword gleaming in his hand. He half expected to see Luke on the other side, waiting, but the only surprise was the guard laying on the floor, slumped over—unconscious.

Percy went to shake him awake, pulling out his water, to pour on him if necessary, but as soon as Percy touched him, he sprung up, hand grappling for his lost sword, eyes wild like an animal. Percy grabbed him by his lapels and shook his gently. "What happened?"

The guard's eyes went far away and hazy. "Princess Annabeth . . . "

Percy gripped the guard tighter in desperation and frustration. "What about her? Did Luke – " Percy couldn't finish his sentence, he stood up abruptly and blinked, trying to adjust to the dark and dampness of the dungeons. Percy turned the corner, sucking in a breath—and released it. Luke was smiling smugly, his smirk as maddening as ever. Percy marched to his cell and reached his hand in. He gripped Luke by his shirt and yanked him into the cell door, his face making a satisfying smack as it hit the cold metal. Luke gasped, either in pain or in shock; Percy didn't care either way. He wanted answers.

"What did you do to her?" Percy growled, his nice guy demeanor and reputation completely wiped away. Luke grinned eerily, red blood dripping from his nose onto his lip. So he was human, not entirely demon. Luke went to pull away from Percy, but Percy, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Percy grappled with him and yanked him back into the bars, blood dripping onto his fingers from Luke's busted nose. Luke gasped, and grimaced, though his lips still were turned up in his ever present grin.

Luke gave up on struggling, leaning on the bars leisurely, as if he were in control; somehow, that made Percy more angry, he wanted to drive his sword through Luke's stomach for whatever he had done to Annabeth . . . For what he had done to Percy himself. But Percy was no murderer, nor was he ready to give up the valuable information that Luke possessed.

"I'm going to ask one more time, or I'm going to have to force it out of you. We don't want that though, do we?" Luke seemed particularly uninterested, picking at his cuticles with no expression whatsoever. "So tell me," Percy mused, "What did you do to Annabeth?"

Luke pursed his lips insufferably. "What did I do?" Luke laughed manically. "That's a funny question. It's funny - " Luke paused. "Actually, its not a question of what I did. I did nothing. Annabeth chose her fate."

Percy closed his eyes for a second, thinking that there was no way that there wasn't smoke coming out of his nose and ears. "What do you mean?" Percy hissed, becoming impatient.

"I gave her a choice." In Percy's state of confusion, Luke ripped himself out of Percy's grip and danced away from him, raising his eyebrows in delight. He ruled the conversation now—exactly as he had intended, and Percy had played right into his little game. "She could have what she wanted but with a small price, or," Luke waved his hand.

"Or what?" Percy ground out between his clenched teeth.

"Or she could get off free."

"Free from what?"

Luke grinned. "You'll find out soon enough."

"You don't think," Percy growled back, "that Annabeth will tell me what you did to her when I get back? This is your chance to save yourself; I strongly advise that you take it."

"Oh," Luke hiccuped a laugh, "I doubt Annabeth will be of much use. I'm afraid that her memory is spotty these days . . . "

Percy put his hands on the bars of the cell and yanked at them, ready to scream at Luke again, when it came to him. Memory loss. Anxiety. Unusual behavior. Addictiveness. "You didn't," Percy whispered, terrified.