The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

35. The Sirens' Singing

The Queen Anne's Revenge responded to Percy's every command. He seemed to know which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. They plowed through the waves at what Y/N figured was pretty flaming fast for a sailing ship.

They sailed through the night.

Annabeth tried to keep lookout, but sailing didn't agree with her. After a few hours rocking back and forth, her face turned the color of guacamole and she went below to lie in a hammock.

And so Y/N and Ethan climbed to the top of the mast to watch the horizon. More than once they spotted monsters. A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spines slithered across the waves—something maybe a hundred feet long, reptilian.

"What do you figure it is?" Y/N asked.

"I don't really want to know," Ethan said.

Sometime after midnight, Y/N climbed down from the mast top, and Annabeth came up on deck. They were just passing a smocking volcano island. The sea bubbled and steamed around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Annabeth said. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like the bronze bulls?"

She nodded.

He looked at her. He didn't know what to say, so he talked about the first thing that came to his mind. "The reason you hate Cyclopes so much . . . the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?" Immediately he wished he could take back what he had just said. Making any kind of small talk would have been better.

It was hard to see Annabeth's expression in the dark, but he didn't think she smiled.

"I guess you have a right to know," she said finally. "The night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. You remember he told that once?"

Y/N nodded.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops's lair in Brooklyn."

"They've got Cyclopes in Brooklyn?"

"You wouldn't believe how many, but that's not the point. This Cyclops, he tricked us. He managed to split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he could sound like anyone, Y/N. Just the way Tyson did aboard the Princess Andromeda. He lured us, one at a time. Thalia thought she was running to save Luke. Luke thought he heard me scream for help. And me . . . I was alone in the dark. I was seven years old. I couldn't even find the exit."

She brushed the hair out of her face. "I remember finding the main room. There were bones all over the floor. And there were Thalia and Luke and Grover, tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling like smoked hams. The Cyclops was starting a fire in the middle of the floor. I drew my knife, but he heard me. He turned and smiled. He spoke, and somehow he knew my dad's voice. I guess he just plucked it out of my mind. He said, 'Now, Annabeth, don't you worry. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay forever.'"

Y/N shivered. The way she told it—even now, years later—freaked him out worse than any ghost story he had ever heard. "What did you do?"

"I stabbed him in the foot."

He stared at her. "Are you kidding? You were seven years old and you stabbed a grown Cyclops in the foot?"

"Oh, he would've killed me. But I surprised him. It gave me just enough time to run to Thalia and cut the ropes on her hands. She took it from there."

"Yeah, but still . . . that was bloody brave, Annabeth."

She shook her head. "We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares, Y/N. The way that Cyclops talked in my father's voice. It was his fault we took so long getting to camp. All the monsters who'd been chasing us had time to catch up. That's really why Thalia died. If it hadn't been for that Cyclops, she'd still be alive today."