The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

3. Hawaiian Shirt And Wheelchair

Y/N woke up several times, but what he saw and heard made no sense, and he always fell unconscious again. Once, he was lying in a soft bed and was spoonfed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. Another time, he saw Ethan standing in the corner of the room, and he turned his head to speak to someone else out of Y/N's field of vision.

"Stop thinking about it," he said, "or else everyone will think you're going mad. And before you ask again, no, it can't be him. I've been with him for two years, and he never went out of the orphanage."

"Alright," a girl's voice said. "But the deadline's coming soon, and two arriving chased by monsters, it can't be a coincidence."

"Why can't it be?" another voice said.

"Because it can't," the girl said. There was a sound of movement, and she asked abruptly, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" a boy croaked.

"What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!" the girl urged.

"Stop," Ethan said quickly. "He hasn't recovered yet!"

"But I need to know—"

Someone knocked on the door, cutting the girl off. Y/N passed out again.

The next time he woke up, he was still in the room, yet it was—different. It was quiet, and he felt way better than the last time; it wasn't hard to keep his eyes open anymore. A beam of light went from a window to him, warming his whole body. Overall, it was really nice. The only black spot was his terribly dry mouth.

Looking around, he saw a glass filled with an amber liquid on a small table, right next to him. He slowly reached out to grab it and raised the glass to his lips. He had expected apple juice, yet it tasted like ice tea, the best he ever had. Drinking it, his whole body felt fresh, full of energy.

"So? What did it taste like?"

Y/N almost spilled everything on him. He turned to his left and faced Ethan. He was sitting on a stool, next to a window. He wore fisherman shorts, a sunhat with banana drawn on it, and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. And he had goat legs. It wasn't a nightmare.

"Ice tea," Y/N said.

"Nice," Ethan told him. "How do you feel?"

"I could beat Sean's arse."

"So you feel good, I see," Ethan snickered. He took the glass from Y/N's hands. "I think you had enough."

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't matter. By the way, I've got this for you. Thought you'd like it." Ethan handed Y/N something wrapped in newspaper. Inside was a long, pristine white snake fang.

It reminded Y/N of everything, and he looked at his right hand, the one who had touched the poison. A streak of burned flesh marked his palm, and it seemed the skin was more fragile there, but that was all. He looked at his leg; the same kind of streak marked his shin.

"What was that thing?" Y/N asked. "The two-headed snake, I mean."

"Er—I don't think it's a good idea to talk about it."

Y/N didn't really listen to him. "Didn't we saw it in class? In Greek mythology? Isn't it the Amphisbaena?"

"Yes. Yes, it is," Ethan said, moving uneasily on his stool. "But please, don't say its name anymore." He looked around as if the monster could appear out of nowhere. Then he sighed and looked at the floor. "You've been unconscious for seven days. I'm sorry," he said grimly under his banana sunhat.