Summary: Percy Jackson gives up the fights that are too important to lose without knowing it. Canon Percabeth, side-dish of Perlia and Jercy.

GOLD

When you're a demigod, you come to regret many impulsive decisions.

Thalia kneels and she recites the pledge to Artemis, echoing the only other pledging she'd witnessed—Bianca's. The rush of strength—eternal youth and health and strength—that fills her once she stands reinforces the sense of rightness she feels in her: this is the right choice, she thinks, she'll never be swayed to the wayside ever again.

Then, she turns to address her friends. It should be Annabeth, is the instant thought that zips across her mind. But what should be Annabeth she doesn't dare to clarify even in the privacy of her own mind. Instead, she acts on instinct, and she's enveloping Percy in her arms. He's nearly as tall as she is; the hug isn't awkward. His arms automatically go to her waist and they squeeze her tight, briefly. That fleeting moment is marked by her inhaling the scent of the sea that always cling to him, and the warmth and weight of his hold. Then he lets go and the abrupt lightness on her waist makes her step back.

"Um... aren't you supposed to not do that anymore? Hug boys, I mean?" The son of Poseidon smiles awkwardly.

"I'm honoring a friend," she corrects the son of Poseidon, a hint of a laugh in her voice. "I must join the Hunt, Percy. I haven't known peace since ..." She falters as it is then his viridian eyes look right into her electric blue ones.

Thalia takes a fraction of a second, then, to wonder how exactly she's missed the brightness of his eyes. Why is it only now that she realizes that, closer to his pupils, the green of his eyes are darker, before fanning out in malachite beams.

Because, the answer is carried by unwilling envy, he's spent all our time together looking in the horizon, for Annabeth. And she, too, has done the same: seeking blonde hair, blue eyes and mischievous smiles instead of focusing on the black hair, the green eyes and the sarcastic smirks.

Percy's mouth tautens at the edges. She notices and she knows—and the dawn of realization is like light in evanid darkness—he's barely biting back a protest. That he's close to calling her back, to go back with him—and the others—back to Camp Half-Blood, and they can be together. That he wants that makes her heart lift and any regret for impulsive decisions is overridden.

The silver enveloping her skin flares just that bit brighter, and the gaze that passes between the children of the Big Three is outshone.

Thalia finishes lamely, "—since Half-Blood Hill. I finally feel like I have a home. But you're a hero. You will be the one of the prophecy."

"Great, just great," he mutters. Darkness crosses the son of Poseidon's expression. Then, Annabeth touches Percy's hand.

The sight of it scalds the daughter of Zeus away, and she's shimmering silver as she goes to stand by Artemis' side.

A demigod's instinctive fear of losing what might be a fleeting blessing of happiness would engender them clinging onto it. . .

When Annabeth kisses him at the pavilion, right after handing him his cupcake that substitutes as a birthday cake, he feels like his brain's melting from the myriad of emotions raging in him.

Percy's eyes widen, stunned by the kiss. Over her shoulder, he sees quite possibly the last person he wants to see: Nico di Angelo. An expression of hurt and wistfulness and lachrymose shrouds his pale face. Annabeth shifts, just as Clarisse's voice shouts, "About time!" and the cascade of golden hair blocks Nico from sight.

The campers are chanting as they lift him and Annabeth in air.

Percy's hand flails, Annabeth catches it, and then they are airborne—the campers toss them into the lake and his ADHD complex registers that Nico is not among the campers who are celebrating the new couple—and they are underwater. Annabeth seems disoriented; Percy's sliced through the surface of the lake like the edge of a sword, and he's perfectly coordinated. Yet, he does nothing to initiate what the campers are chanting-"Kiss her, Seaweed Brain!"

The naiads sing and cheer and chant at the sidelines, in his periphery vision. And then Annabeth is kissing him, taking his face in her hands, and the fanning of blonde hair erases what is at the sidelines.

Again.

He's kissing his first girlfriend.

Percy forces himself to shut out thoughts of another girl's electric static touches and a boy's saddened face.

He doesn't close his eyes as they kiss; he looks and focuses on Annabeth, and only her, until gold is what he's convinced himself into seeing.

. . . And when you throw yourself completely into something fleeting, a swooping rush of adrenaline and euphoria, what's at the sidelines become blurs. Even the golden ones.

Their fingers overlap as they both reach for the same chair at the head of the table.

"Er..." The awkward noise comes from Percy's throat. Jason meets his eyes quite levelly. The son of Jupiter shifts his grip until his hand encompasses more of Percy's. The kiss of his bronze skin and the blue-eyed demigod's bisque skin emits the same static that sparks whenever Percy and Thalia touch.

With a jolt, he remembers that Thalia is Jason's older sister and they have precisely the same blue eyes. The timing of this realization is terrible because he's locking challenging looks with Jason and suddenly, it's not only a matter of pride that prevents him from looking away.

"Percy, Jason, the food's getting cold if you don't stop that weird stare-off competition soon," Leo's ever-cheery voice breaks between them. The other demigods swap bemused looks, but Annabeth's eyes are too calculating and Piper's are too suspicious. Percy tugs his hand free as Jason removes his grip.

"I didn't accidentally electrocute you, I hope?" says Jason lightly.

"You've got my heart skipping a few beats," rejoins Percy laughingly. He means it as a joke, a clever riposte, but when Jason smiles and his heart actually skips two beats, he thinks that maybe there's a grain of truth in his words.

They wordlessly relinquish the seat to Annabeth, and the daughter of Athena leaves the spot next to Piper empty. It's only natural Jason takes the seat next to his girlfriend and Percy finds the seat exactly opposite of him.

Jason shifts his golden gladius aside before he sits: the gold catches the light from overhead and it leaves Percy's vision bedazzled for the next few moments.

But paint your prize gold and you've got gold. Just know it's not the authentic gold you could've had.

"You're not my type anyway."

Percy's mouth falls open gracelessly as the son of Hades walks away from him after saying that, towards Will Solace. He turns, still speechless with shock, to his girlfriend. The daughter of Athena looks thoughtfully at the duo Will and Nico make. They speak briefly, then Will's chasing Nico into the infirmary. A phantom fist tightens over Percy's heart.

"I wonder why I'm not surprised," muses Annabeth.

"Well," splutters the green-eyed demigod, "I am."

Annabeth brushes her blonde hair out of her clever grey eyes. "And if you'd known earlier, what would've you done?"

"What?" Percy chokes out because even though the question registers clearly, the implication behind it as well, there's no way he can answer that truthfully.

"We've been through a lot together, Percy," says Annabeth slowly, as if he's slow in the head, "and I want a happy ending for us. But," a pause as she swallows thickly, as if it's hard to say, "it doesn't mean we've to get the happy ending together." The well-veiled fear of rejection in her eyes makes his heart constrict.

He loops an arm around her shoulder. "Of course we're going to be getting our happy ending—I've gone through too much to just let you slip away like that. You're not trying to dump me in a nice, roundabout way, are you?"

Annabeth laughs. The sound carries across the grounds, free and joyful.

Percy lets her laugh carry away the haunting what-ifs and settles with the knowledge that being content with what he has is what matters, instead of what he could've had.

Merry (belated) Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!

This one-shot's the last fic of 2015, and it's not as romantic as I'd like. It comes off more unrequited than anything ... well, the point I want to get across is, of course, to treasure what you have, regardless of how second-rate it is.

Question: Who is it, ultimately, is the golden prize? Annabeth, Jason, or Thalia? I'll like to hear your theories as to why you choose that person. :D

R&R