Silent Storm. Annnnd. It's out. Much luff for Bubbly-kun (bubblegum11), who helped ezyl sort out the odd, unclear bits in this drabble. Another note. This is a GODCHILDSHIPPING fic. PercyThalia, you know. Potential flamers should clear off NOW.

Disclaimer: None of the charries belong to ezyl, even though they're much fun to torture with. XDDD.

Full speed ahead!


The monsters were closing in, bloody meat-ripping jaws with four sets of sharp, impossibly ivory teeth, matted filth-infested fur with thick coils of poison and all. Their lips were of a dark vermillion, eyes all beady little things that shone in the moonlight. One growled, and lunged towards her, a hundred yards away.

Shaking with the little bit of terror left inside; she reached for her quiver and pulled out an arrow, strapping it to the bow with a trembling hand and an aching heart.

Percy loves Thalia. He doesn't love me anymore.

Grabbing the bowstring, pulling it back…

Percy loves her. Why her?

The arrow shot forward, and the girl fell down.

She'd missed.

The arrowhead slit through clean, whistling air.

"You are not worthy!" Artemis screeched, her voice carrying above all the growls of the wild beasts in the Forest of Caelestis, "Don't think I don't know of your impure thoughts, you insolent fool!"

The silent storm raged, and the hunter straightened up. The glare in her eyes was enough to tell any creature to back away.

"The hell I am."

I am much more worthy than you think. I'm Annabeth Chase.


"Please, Artemis, I would like to be excused for the wedding."

In a split second, from her usual nonchalantly-pretty expression, Artemis' face had become stony and sullen, her arms were crossed, a perfect frown on her face.

"Oh, you mean the one between the ungrateful brat and the traitor half-blood? Why in my name would you want to see them? Those two are there, against my code and you wish to watch them defile the entire nature of the sacred femininity?"

Whoa. That came on a bit too strong.

"I-I don't know," I confessed, trying to feel demure despite the block of ice in my chest and the fury at receiving an invitation at all. It was getting to be a bit too much, and I tried to clear my throat and stop the blur of vision from too much salty water.

"Give me one plausible solution," the childish god smirked. She didn't think I could do it, and it annoyed me to no end.

I kissed the bastard getting married, that plausible enough for you?

"Um. I got an invitation," my hands held up a tattered, golden-sepia envelope. I had tried to rip it so many times, but at the last minute I would remember Percy's face on the front cover –and even if Thalia's dazzling smile was next to his cheek– I couldn't do it.

I was so weak.

One year from the last time I had seen and forgotten about Percy Jackson, one year later from kicking Thalia out and stealing her place in the Sorority of Eternal Life (or whatever the hell they called it), a year later from it all, a letter had arrived in Hermes' special delivery. It was simply postmarked To Annabeth Chase in a curlique-font on the front, and a cute four-by-four poster card sealed inside, with a cheap human-developed image of the Happy Couple and directions to a chapel in San Francisco on the back.

It could only mean one thing.

Cue the wedding bells.


Percy had called, asked her if she wanted to be a maid of honor.

Screw that, she had thought, and replied with an apologetic, "I'm too busy."

She thought she was so pathetic, faking occupation to escape heart pain.

In the end, she fed the invitation into a paper shredder, let the pieces drop into the fire, her tears along with it.

I'll go to that wedding, Percy. I won't crash it, but the effect will be just as disastrous. Maybe worse.

She spent the night sewing an invisible pocket into her wedding dress.

For trinkets.

And during the night, Artemis found her silver hunting knife stolen. The god could've stopped her, oh yes she could, but decided to see how much would fold out, how far her little fool was willing to take it before she admitted defeat.


The bride came out, dressed in a beautiful bouquet of gold satin, its contents actually being weaved from cottony wisps of pure gold, marking the woman as a true Zeus' daughter. Her hair was perfect, a poignant French twist and a couple of ringlets cascading down her back. It was all in gold, of course, the same as her gloves, strappy high heels…right down to the polish on her toes, Thalia was perfectly golden. She brushed a few gold-sheathed strands of hair away from her face, and in that moment you could feel the entire room hold their breath, as the envy of every girl in the room and the dream of every man –half or full-blood– curled her arm around one of her father's attendants and half-smiled, showing a little teeth but remaining dignified and poised.

The Golden Girl.

I felt awkward, and clutched the bulge at the side of my dress even tighter.

Thalia was always so pretty, I guess. It was something she managed to do, even when she was dressed in the dirtiest garb and smears of black mud on her face, she was still able to capture Percy's heart. Something I'd never been able to do. Even when I straightened my hair, put on my best clothes, and smoothed in liquid foundation, Percy only looked at me with admiration, never with love.

Too bad.

The music stopped, and then it was in a mute, respectful awe that Thalia made her way down the aisle and into Percy's waiting arms. They paid respect to Percy's mother, kissed the old lady –she was nearly fifty years old, now– in her charmed face. Tyson sat behind him, beamed from his seat (standing up he might've broke the steeped chapel roof) and wiped tears with a large, spotted hanky.

I tried not to snort.

The minister, a short, rambling white-haired man, had grabbed both of their hands, Thalia's gold-gloved ones and Percy's long-fingered ones.


She played with his hands, gazing at the elongated bones. It was so beautiful. Nothing you'd imagine from such a short guy. She slid her fingers along his, feeling the soft skin and smooth nails.

"Promise you'll be with me forever?"

"I promise."

It was only later did she remember that he had mentioned nothing of love.


They exchanged rings. A sweet, proud ruby on Percy's finger, and a deep, ocean-blue sapphire on Thalia's. Both of them twinkled bright in the natural light—a blessing from Zeus and Poseidon—and then smiled at each other.

"And now, two shall join."

I kept the bitter laugh hidden in my throat as I pictured Percy's fingers clenched around Thalia's, the thought of it closing my throat.

By the time I had refocused, kept my hand in my dress, they were nearly done.

"And now, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Perseus Jackson! You may now kiss."

And then she had clutched his hand, and he was kissing her and her lips were on his, too.

I looked away.


I didn't want to touch anything at the reception. It was all dirty, so disgusting, the strawberry icing on the cake too creamy and puffed, the little flutes of champagne blue like the sea and probably filled with sand, too.

Once or twice, a half-drunk satyr or some demi-god tried to chat me up, and I even saw Clarisse mingling through the crowd, telling anyone who would listen what she thought was really going on behind the marriage. I caught my name somewhere into her monologue, and was glad that no one was listening to her.

I was about to make my way to the bathroom, but someone stopped me. Startled, I turned around, about to open my mouth and start swearing at who'd be rude enough to grab the waist of my dress.

It was Thalia.

She greeted me, the new bride, having finally gotten a chance to rest after spending three hours dancing in the middle of the floor.

"I've missed you, Annabeth! It's like we haven't talked in years," she cried joyfully, keeping a timid gloved-hand on my shoulder, almost afraid that I would run away. Good.

"Old loves die hard," I responded, hoping to sound icy and distant.

Grudges don't go away that easily, bitch.

Thalia didn't get it, "I know…I was really worried about you for a while!"

She reached forward to hug me, daintily like she was afraid to damage her dress, or perhaps too scared of me, I'm not sure which.

Now was my chance.

I grabbed it…

A swift movement and I had her cornered.

She stared helplessly at the knife, at the palm of my hand, red from gripping it for so long, stared at the tip of the sharpened blade poking into her abdomen, and then stared into my eyes, her deep blue irises meeting mine. She opened her mouth –to scream, I think– but then she smiled and her face relaxed.

"Do it. I deserve it."

"He was the only one I ever loved," my voice trembled, "and you took him…you took. Him."

Her hands let go of my dress, floated back to her sides, and then I could see tears enveloping her face, "Annabeth, you couldn't possibly know how sorry I am."

"You're right, I don't."

"But I love him, too. Did you know that?"

And in that moment, I realized that she did get it, knew it all along, and I realized that I knew I couldn't. I couldn't ever understand. And I couldn't stop it, either.

Then Percy saw us, saw through all of it, like every time I saw him, saw the hunting knife pointed at his new wife, saw the murderous glint in my eye, and he started to shout, "Thalia! Annabeth! What are you doing? STOP!"

I saw the terror in his eyes.

And so I dropped it, dropped Artemis' most prized possession on the expensive carpet. The blade cut a symmetric arc through the thick fabric –that could've been Thalia's skin– and then I ran like I'd never done it before.

My legs were moving of their own accord, filled with that natural instinct of terror. Out the wedding reception doors, out of the building, out into the streets, past all the closing stores and the packing vendors. My clothes tore, patches of the skirt ripped off, and then the sky erupted into a giant lightning storm. Rain, sleet, winds, hurricanes. Athena's fury.

I'm a fallen angel. One that fell for a god who would never love me back.

Welcome home, said the storm, and I felt its reckless rage on me.

And now I couldn't tell whether I was crying or not because the storm was crying, too and I broke inside and I was drenched in cold sweat and rain and wind and sleet and the wings of my fallen angel had snapped off and the rain trailed down my body and mingled with my tears and even though I knew I could never complete myself without him I. Just. Let. Go.

Welcome home.

And it was no longer silent because the world was no longer silent.


A/N: I actually typed this little piece of crap out in one afternoon. Only recently sent it off. XD.

ATTENTION, FLAMERS: Yes, I mean you shiznits who're brave enough to venture thus far. GO AWAY. And I mean it. You can flame for all my grammar and spelling mistakes, and whatever plot points you don't understand, but flaming for the pairing is seriously NOT TOLERATED.

Just had to get that outta the way. Other than that, thanks for reading this ficlet...please review! :D.

And if you'd like some where to hang out and discuss GodChildShipping, you know where to find ezyl...GodChildShipping, the forum, created by V-kun (or Poisonous Disaster, whichever name you prefer).