The Stories of Our Heroes

Hero

Please, let him be soft.

I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf's teeth. I know you made him to be a warrior, a soldier, a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf's teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me that the world needs him. The world needs his heart and his faith and his courage and his strength and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his - the world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him, damn anyone that ever took anything away from him, damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything until there is nothing left of him but the imprint of dust where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas until his shoulders collapse and his knees buckle and he is crushed by all that he used to carry.

Dear God, you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son. You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again. You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you - he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

-Unknown

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Annabeth stared at Percy's sleeping figure in the bronze glow of Riptide and the orange haze that hung in the air. Even when resting his eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw locked. His shoulders were tense and he took quick shallow breaths. One hand was curled around the hilt of his sword and the other was gripping the lower part of her leg. She sighed, running her hands through his air in an attempt to soothe him. She then took to massaging his shoulders and rubbing her hands down his back. When she reached his old Achilles' heel, he flinched in his slumber. She flinched, too.

Something rumbled in the distance, but she didn't wake him yet. She would let him sleep as long as possible as he had done the same to her. Wake me up when you need a break, she had told him. Don't be a hero.

Of course, he left her alone until they had to move again. He was always the hero. He always had to be the hero.

Guilt ate away at her when she began remembering the stupidly heroic acts of her boyfriend. That was the whole reason they were trapped in the hell-hole. If he'd just let go of her, he wouldn't breathing acidic air and being eaten alive by fear. If just, for once, he had it in him to be selfish. But of course he didn't.

She should have known that the only reason he'd ever abandon her would be because he was trying to keep her safe. He killed and slashed and took the burdens of curse after curse just to stop her from taking anymore. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the image of his limp body wrapped in her arms and pulled close to her, his eyes almost closed and full of pain, the way his face was slack, and his breathing was in quick gasps. She heard the way he croaked her name, thinking it was the last thing she'd ever hear him say. The way his head lolled onto her chest and she couldn't do anything but cry and beg him not to leave her ever again. And miraculously, he didn't.

She thought of the way he didn't have the sense to not jump into a magical river, risking his entire spirit, to have a chance at saving the world. He took on a curse, despite the risk, to fight in a war he believed would end him.

He intentionally stayed behind in an active and getting-ready-to-erupt volcano because someone had to. And he had to be him, of course. Because he always has to be the hero.

He demanded to be on a quest that traveled across the entire country just to find her. The way he took the sky from Artemis because that's how the hero would save the day.

She almost laughed when she remembered one of his more comical deeds, riding on the underbelly of sheep. But he would have done anything to save his best friend.

The way he took his first quest with no experience, far too young to have be considered about keeping the balance of the universe. But he did it even though he shouldn't of had to.

He shouldn't have to do any of this, she thought with pain ripping through her. The gods thrust this upon him just like all of their heroes. Except the other heroes always had an end to their story. Percy never did. Time after time he stepped up to take the burdens. He always had to be the hero.

Annabeth loved him for all of his character, selflessness and loyalty and heroics included. But  more than anything she wanted him to give up, take a step back. She wanted him to have a break. She wanted him at her side, carefree and happy. And all hers, no one else's. She didn't want him to belong to anyone that would ask anything of him or take so much of him that there'd be nothing left. He didn't deserve this pain.

Annabeth stared down at Percy and wished she didn't see a hero.