literature

You'll Get Froze

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Literature Text

"Annabeth!" Percy hissed as one of the Roman campers tug him off to their jail. "What was that?" He almost asked her if she'd forgotten what she was supposed to do, but that would have been impossible. Annabeth never forgets a plan.

     The blonde gave him a poignant look—one that Percy couldn't really decipher. He huffed in annoyance, dropping his gaze to his blue converse. If anyone was going to screw up their strategy, it would most likely be him (fine, he'll admit it). Not Grover or Hazel or Clarisse—and most certainly not Annabeth.

     Once at the opposing team's makeshift jail, their captors led Percy and Annabeth over to a tree. It had a rope tied around its trunk, and one of the Romans began looping it around their wrists tightly, the bristly material scratching their skin. The raven haired boy noted that they had a perfect view of the boundary line—the one a player had to carry the flag across to win. In a few minutes, he figured, one of the other team's players--Octavian, probably. That would be just Percy's luck—would be sprinting across that line, brightly-toned flag in hand. Whether the jail was designed specifically for its prisoner's discomfort, Percy didn't know. But he could bet.

      When the watchman walked out of earshot, Percy turned to Annabeth. "Why did you take your hat off? That was our whole plan! I mean, gods, no one here even know about it yet, so you could have grabbed the flag and won without any of them noticing," he sputtered angrily.

      "Percy, I said that I might have to do something different. I can't magically predict what their defense will be like!" Annabeth snapped, her face flushing in indignation. "But just trust m--"

      "Trust you about what?" Percy whined desperately. "That we're going to loose? 'Cause I think we are."

      She set her jaw in determination, focusing her gaze on the finish line. "We'll be fine, Seaweed Brain."

      "Well, how—what…oh, forget it," he muttered, trying to cross his arms, before he remembered the ropes pinning his wrists back.

      They stood in an icy, deflated silence. Percy stole a glance at Annabeth. He almost considered apologizing as he noticed the way the evening light illuminated her tresses. But her eyes—then a stormy gray—were cold as ice. Percy looked away, heavy defeat clinging to his lungs.

      Shouts and louder clangs of metal erupted from the field. Both of them whirled around, and Percy groaned inwardly. A figure ran toward the boundary line, the red flag held high above his head.

       "Great," Percy muttered, sarcasm laced throughout the word.

       "Wait." Her tone was hard and decisive, as though she could win that game of Capture-the Flag through sheer willpower (which she probably could have, if she tried).

       Poseidon's son would have buried his face in his hands right them—if his hands didn't have other obligations (like being tied behind his back), that is. But since he couldn't, Percy just settled for staring at the silhouette and holding his breath.

       When the person was roughly twenty feet away from victory, something happened. What happened right then was an occurrence that Percy, to this day, has yet to figure out.

      On the other side of the line—the side that the flag-carrying opponent was running so triumphantly towards—Hazel appeared. Out of nowhere. With a blue flag in one hand.

     And a baseball cap in the other.  

     Percy's jaw crashed to the ground. Annabeth gave a pleased smile, shouting over to their guard (who looked absolutely dumbstruck), "Well, I think we've won. Could you release us, please?"

     His mouth still wide with shock, the guard began untying the ropes.

    "I gave Hazel my hat," Annabeth explained, her smile relieved.

    "You planned—I—Hazel—hat," Percy stuttered. He blinked in confusion.

    Annabeth laughed, and, since the jail guard had managed to free her, ran off towards the small crowd that had gathered around Hazel. Percy's feet appeared to be stuck to the ground because he stayed planted to that very spot, watching Annabeth's ponytail whip around behind her. When she realized Percy wasn't following her, Annabeth spun around, jogging backwards.

     "C'mon, Seaweed Brain! Do you need an engraved invitation?" She said, her voice teasing and light—the tone of a victor. And they were victors, Percy realized. They won.

     Finally, he let a bewildered—but still amused—grin spread across his face. He took of jogging after Annabeth, wondering how on earth she orchestrated her mind bending—albeit annoying—plans.

     Because, as he's been told numerous times, Athena always, always has one.
This fic was inspired by the song "Cold As Ice" by b.o.b. I don't own.

You guys should listen to the song (it's sorta PG 13 though. No swearing, just violence. Sorta). It's got a great tempo. This is a lighter interpritantion. This story kinda popped into my head while listening to it.

Hope you like it!!

--8cG
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HaraCho's avatar
If all that stuff was real, you could be a daughter of Athena! That plan was so clever!!!!! XD