Percy Jackson (Reincarnation AU)
So, I saw one of Goldenfleeces posts and I may or may not have written a 1,500 word fic inspired by it (haha whoops)
But yeah, here it is:
Annabeth had dreams sometimes, of a boy with green eyes and wind swept hair. They’d known each other, in a past life, in a few past lives actually.
The first time had been in Greece, ancient Greece. Her father was marrying her off to some man she’d never met. She’d caught a glimpse from around the corner before a servant had caught her and pulled her back. He was older then her father, with thinning gray hair and one long eyebrow. He was over weight and was red in the face from the effort it took to get up the few steps in front of the door.
She considered suicide. Then decided against it, what a waste of a life. The gods wouldn’t be happy. So as the servant pulled her away, she instead contemplated a way to be as difficult as possible so the man would divorce her.
Then she heard arguing and a new voice said, “I have a better lineage, and twice as much money. It would honor me if you would allow me to ask Annabeth to be my wife instead.”
Annabeth Chase: saving Percy’s ass since 2005
“My name is Percy Jackson.
I’m twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.
Am I a troubled kid?
Yeah. You could say that.”
(Source: captainofastarship, via romangod)
“What was I thinking?” Chiron cried. “I can’t let you get away without this.”
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably thirty cents.
Gee,” I said. “Thanks.”
”Percy, that’s a gift from your father. I’ve kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one.”
I remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I’d vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be…?
I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hands.
”The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into,” Chiron told me. “It’s name is Anaklusmos.”
”Riptide,” I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.
(Source: teamhyperbutt, via you-and-others-drugs)