in which weddings are more trouble than they're worth, things get unusually feathery, and a certain captain is too attractive for his own good.

It did strange things to people. Tartarus. By strange, Percy meant mess with your head, bring out your deepest fears, and make you beg for death. That kind of strange, he thought, as Annabeth fell to her knees beside him, was not the good kind.

"Since we were twelve years old, Wise Girl, I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than you. That's always the way it's been, and I guess always will be." He sighed contentedly. "You and me, we're just-" "Inevitable?"

"When we were on our quest- Hazel, Frank, and I -I had barely any memory. Then some things were coming back, and I thought I was starting to remember. But then... the further north we travelled, the blurrier things became. Everything was slipping away, even you." He met her eyes for the first time. "I couldn't lose you."

'You remind me of Percy. You all want to know what it's like, if it's the same as the movies. Not for yourselves, but for someone you love who died.' An impossible conversation that becomes all too real.