A PJO/MR Crossover (Sidenote: I wrote this story when I was 16. It is kind of cringey and cliche, so read at your own risk)
During a date with Annabeth after the Giant War, mysterious men kidnap Percy Jackson. Injured and near death, the two are ca...
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Percy POV "Wake up..."
The voice was distant; outlying.
"Percy, wake up!"
I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking ruthlessly and not ceasing. My eyes flicked open, glimpsing the impatient face of Raven.
"Thank the gods, I thought you would never come around," she said, hair falling from her loose ponytail. Was that worry I detected in her voice?
My mind was fuzzy, so I just groaned in reply, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. My back ached, sore from being in such an awkward position for so long. In curiosity, I extended my wings slowly, checking to see what had become of my wound. The muscles hurt to outstretch, still mending themselves. I decided it was too early to deal with, feeling relief folding them in.
I was weary, body and mind still adjusting to my coming to. I didn't feel refreshed, but I knew I was still recuperating. My leg was no longer swollen, looking to be nearly restored. Despite the occasional throbbing, I knew my accelerated healing was at work.
Cautiously, I stood up and tested the feeling of weight on my knee. It didn't lock up or sear with protest, ultimately leading to another trial.
I ran in place, comfortable knowing I had some fight left in me. Raven watched my back, staring intently. It was a bit unsettling.
"We need to leave," She finally said, breaking the silence. "I think they've found us."
I heard noises and shouting voices when I decided to listen in. Gruff voices and commands of violent intent.
"I noticed you are without a weapon. Here," Raven said, quickly outstretching a black dagger as an offering. I took it gratefully, memorized by the details on the hilt.
I never really used daggers much. I preferred swords, because they fit my fighting style. This was more of Annabeth's thing, not mine.
The sound of her name was enough to conjure up a flashback. The memory of Annabeth lying in the sand and bleeding out would be forever ingrained in my mind. It was a picture I wanted out of my head. Forcefully, I pushed it into the darkest parts of mind. It wasn't the time to dwell in the past.
"You seem much stronger. Two days of sleep did you well," Raven observed, bringing me back to reality. She grabbed the bag that I'd used as a pillow. There was some mud and wetness stained on it, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Two days?!" I said, surprised and angry at the same time. "You're telling me you kept me asleep for two days?!"
I knew the answer to this question, but I wanted her to know how upset I was. When she had put me to sleep that night, I had expected ten hours at most. But forty eight?
Annabeth could still be out there, barely hanging on to life. While I was here, sleeping the days away.
"A day earlier and you would be struggling to walk," Raven pointed out. "I want to get to Camp Half Blood just as much as you do, but you needed to be ready to fight."
