[Third Person Pov]
"Doesn't Lucian seem to be behaving strangely?" Annabeth asked in a low voice, her tone cautious as she leaned in toward the group, making sure Lucian was out of earshot.
"Nope," Percy answered instantly without missing a beat, as if the thought hadn't even crossed his mind.
"Seems pretty normal to me," Clarisse added with a shrug, crossing her arms with a usual half-bored, half-annoyed expression.
"Lucian is strange," Tyson said matter-of-factly, nodding his massive head with childlike sincerity. "But he's a good strange."
"How am I supposed to know?" Hylla scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I barely even know the guy. For all I know, this is normal for him."
"Same here," Reyna said, her tone calm but curious. "I wouldn't know what qualifies as strange or standard behavior for that man."
"Annabeth, what exactly are you getting at?" Thalia asked, raising an eyebrow as she followed Annabeth's line of sight.
Annabeth exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "Okay, I know I can't be the only one looking at that and thinking there's no way that's normal…"
Everyone turned their heads.
Lucian was still sitting on top of Sébastien's back like it was his personal lounge chair. Except he wasn't relaxing. He was cooking.
Floating around him were utensils spinning in midair, each one moving in perfect coordination like a miniature kitchen orchestra. A cutting board hovered beside him, where knives diced onions with mechanical precision, while another pan stirred itself with a wooden spoon moving under Lucian's casual flick of a wrist. A sizzling pan emitted the smell of garlic and herbs, and in front of him a bowl of sauce stirred on its own as he adjusted the seasoning with the grace of a five-star chef.
"Seems pretty Lucian to me," Percy said, shrugging, unfazed.
"Okay, perhaps," Annabeth admitted reluctantly, folding her arms. "But my gut is telling me otherwise. Like seriously—why is he still on that stupid horse—"
Crack!
The sound was small but sharp.
Something cool and wet slid down the back of Annabeth's head. She froze. Everyone froze.
An egg had just hit Annabeth square in the back of her hair, the yolk breaking and trickling down. For a second, no one even breathed.
Annabeth's hands trembled slightly as she reached up and touched the sticky mess slowly running down her hair. Yolk. Eggshell. Silence. Her expression was unreadable—somewhere between disbelief and impending fury.
The group slowly turned toward Lucian.
He sat completely still on Sébastien, his hands cupped over his mouth, eyes wide with horror as if shocked by his own action. His expression screamed instant regret.
"Bahaha—" Percy slapped both hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking violently as he tried to suppress his laughter. His face was turning red from the effort.
"Okay," Lucian said meekly, his voice trembling like a guilty. "In my defense—before you decide to kill me for good—I just want you to know that I regretted it the second the egg left my hand."
That was all it took. Percy collapsed onto the deck, pounding his fist against the wooden floor as he wheezed, trying to keep quiet but sounding like a deflating balloon. Clarisse had her back turned, biting her lip so hard she might've drawn blood just to stop herself from laughing.
Annabeth inhaled deeply, then let out a long, steady sigh. Without a word, she shook her in disappointment, she turned and walked toward the cabin, shoulders stiff.
Lucian's guilt hit him immediately like a physical blow. He slumped slightly, staring after her with regret written all over his face. He would've honestly preferred if she'd yelled at him, thrown a dagger, something. But that silent disappointment? That was worse. Way worse.
"Lucian… just what is wrong with you?" Thalia asked, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was physically restraining her frustration.
"She called Sébastien stupid!" Lucian blurted out in defense, gesturing toward his horse as if that explained everything.
"So, in all your brilliance," Thalia said slowly, glaring, "you decided to throw an egg at her head?"
"I threw the first thing in my hand!" Lucian snapped back, his tone somewhere between defensive and mortified. "It just happened to be an egg!"
"Just go and apologize," Thalia sighed, waving him off.
"I was gonna, jeez," Lucian muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't even give me the chance to."
With a frustrated groan, he clapped his hands. Several shadowy clones flickered into existence beside him, each one picking up where he left off in the floating kitchen.
Lucian shadow-stepped—vanishing in a ripple of darkness.
He reappeared inside the ship's bathroom, sitting cross-legged on top of the toilet lid like it was the most natural thing in the world. Annabeth was at the sink, magic faintly glowing around her hands as she cleaned the last of the yolk from her hair.
"I—" Lucian started but Annabeth interrupted him, letting out a long sigh.
"If you're going to apologize," Annabeth said quietly without turning around to look at him, "I honestly don't want to hear it right now."
"Even if you don't want to hear it," Lucian said, his voice soft and regretful, "I'm still going to say it. I really am sorry. I took it too far."
"That doesn't change the fact that you threw an egg at my head," Annabeth replied dryly, pulling her brush from her pouch and running it through her hair.
Lucian hesitated, then spoke again—his voice low, almost broken. "I think… I've been taking your love for granted."
Annabeth hummed quietly as she brushed through her hair, her movements calm and deliberate. The faint shimmer of her spell still clung to her reflection in the mirror. She didn't bother glancing at Lucian, her tone steady but laced with dry sarcasm. "Tell me something I don't know."
Lucian let out a low chuckle and tilted his head. "That's going to be difficult…" he replied with a teasing grin, the playfulness in his voice earning him a sharp scoff from her.
Her reflection rolled her eyes, but she said nothing.
Lucian lowered his gaze to his crossed legs, his playful smirk fading as his thoughts darkened. "I crossed a line I shouldn't have," he admitted, his tone quieter now, carrying a rare hint of guilt. "You're patient and understanding enough to let me get away with a lot of things—and you still put up with my nonsense. But just because you let me doesn't mean I should keep testing that patience. I shouldn't take advantage of it."
Annabeth slowed her brushing. She caught his reflection in the mirror—his shoulders slouched, his tone sincere. That wasn't the usual Lucian who deflected everything with humor. She turned to face him fully, setting the brush aside as he continued.
"I disrespected you," Lucian went on, the weight of his words thickening the air between them. "You're someone I should be cherishing, not hurting. You worry about me constantly, and instead of appreciating that, I treat it like an annoyance. I keep secrets even though I promised transparency, I dismiss your care like it's nothing, Overall I acted immature. You are an amazing person, someone that deserves much better."
Annabeth exhaled softly, her features softening. She crossed her arms, letting the silence linger for a moment before saying simply, "Helmet."
Lucian blinked, surprised. But he obeyed without question—his black armor shimmered faintly as the helmet formed around his head, the ruby glow of his eyes flickering gently from behind the visor.
Annabeth stepped closer, her expression unreadable. She raised a hand and pressed it gently against the cool metal of his cheek. "Lucian," she said softly, her voice calm but carrying that familiar firmness that always made him listen, "I love you. You know that, right?"
He nodded silently, the motion small against her hand.
"I know my worrying and constant reminders can be annoying," she continued, her thumb brushing the edge of his cheek with slow, comforting movements. "But it's only because I love you that I do it. You have this habit of thinking you have to shoulder everything alone—to prove that you can handle anything, that you don't need help. You being independent and dependable is one of the things I love about you…" She gave a small laugh, rolling her eyes. "But also the thing that drives me insane."
Lucian's eyes dimmed slightly, his gaze softening under her touch.
"I know you," Annabeth said, leaning a bit closer, her tone gentler now. "You act immature and carefree because you think it helps us worry less. You hide how bad things are to make us feel safe. And I appreciate that—I really do—but you can't stop me from worrying. That's part of loving someone. You never stop worrying about them."
Lucian's voice was low when he answered. "...I really don't deserve you."
"You're right," she said without missing a beat. Then her tone lightened just enough to tease him, and a faint smirk curved her lips. "You absolutely don't."
He huffed a small laugh through the helmet, and before he could respond, Annabeth leaned down and pressed her lips to where his would be beneath the mask—a soft, kiss against cold metal that somehow still felt warm.
When she pulled back, Lucian's voice came out quieter, more hesitant. "About the prophecy—"
"Shhh…" Annabeth cut him off with a sigh, pressing a finger to his visor. "I don't want to hear it."
"Seriously?" Lucian asked, tilting his head. "You don't even want a hint?"
"Of course I do," she admitted with a small chuckle. "I'm dying to know what it says. But I also know you, Lucian. If you're hiding it, it's because you think it's to protect us. So…" She gave a resigned sigh and crossed her arms. "I'll respect that and let you keep your stupid little secret prophecy."
Lucian's lips curled into a hidden smile behind the mask. "You really are too good for me."
Annabeth's expression softened again, her voice calm but sincere. "Just tell me one thing," she said, looking him dead in the eyes. "Are you at least doing something about it?"
Lucian hesitated for a beat before nodding. "I'm… working on it."
"Then I trust you'll be just fine," she said with a faint smile. "Oh, and by the way—"
Crack!
Before Lucian could react, Annabeth pulled an egg from her pouch and smashed it right on top of his helmet. The shell shattered, yolk dripping down the smooth black surface in slow, gooey rivulets.
Lucian froze, blinking in disbelief as the egg slid down the front of his visor.
Annabeth stepped back with perfect composure, raising both middle fingers as she walked toward the door. "Payback, bitch."
The door shut behind her with a triumphant click.
Lucian sat there for a long second, motionless.
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