Chapter Text
Figure skating is one of the oldest sports performed on ice. And it's also one of the most graceful, eye-catching ways a person can move their body.
As if possessed by an invisible, sensual force, ice skaters glide their way across the rink, their feet moving like the very air itself was their guide.
Artistry was what made a skate into a performance. It's what turns arm movements like the delicate wings of a swan, lying in wait to take flight.
At least, that was what figure skating was when Annabeth first trained for it. When she signed up for life on the ice at the tender age of 7, it was always in her dream to make it more than just a jumping competition. To pour emotion, expression, and her very identity into all her routines.
And she was praised for it. Beloved, they called her the ice siren. Her moves mimic that of water: graceful, flowing, and iridescent.
But, the real athletes, according to those self-important commentators who when placed on the ice would probably stumble like half drunk idiots, the real skaters are only determined through the skill of their triples, their quads.
So, when Percy Jackson, threat to humanity, America's resident seaweed brain, and Annabeth's personal bane of existence, managed to land a quad axel without falling flat on his ass on practice one random day—he became American figure skating's greatest asset.
So, you understand, this man infuriates her.
ˑ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ‧⛸️₊˚❄‧͙ .°౨ৎ .ᐟ
It happened on a Wednesday.
It was only her and Percy on the rink then. Early dawns always start slow, but when Annabeth found out that Percy was a morning type of person, that shortly after waking up, he was already in his skates, gliding around the rink—she, too, became an early riser.
The competitiveness inside Annabeth was like a nurtured fortress, strengthened brick by brick with every passing moment since she met Percy Jackson.
Whenever he wasn't looking, Annabeth sneaked glances at him. Studying the movement of his body, his jumps, his twists, and his twirls. His style was something she could recognize even when sitting at the very back of the bleachers.
His form was impressive, of course. But, what really caught her attention the most was the power in everything he did. Like an overwhelming force behind every action, with purpose in each delivery. It was something she recognized in herself, and that was when she knew to keep watch.
Percy was akin to an overnight star, a phenomenon she could not wrap her head around.
She'd not seen him in much of the skating competitions she went on throughout her childhood. He's underground, most of the professional training she's had through her whole life, passed him by. And yet, he emerged victorious despite it. He qualified for the Olympics.
As far as she could see, on that normal Wednesday morning, he was just playing around. Doing spins and jumps on the rink, no real routine. When, out of the blue, he steps forward, knees bent, his arms poised behind him in graceful arch, he jumps.
This one was called an axel. Percy's foot first twisting on the outside edge, then leaning forward, he kicks, catapulting to the air. She watched him spin once, twice, thrice. Four and a half times.
Annabeth gaped.
Percy gaped.
"What was that?" She whispers sharply, disbelief dripping in her tone.
"That......that was insane!" Percy laughed and started skating in circles, fist pumping in the air.
Later, Percy would tell their coaches and their teammates. He would attempt to do the famed quadruple axel yet again. He landed it perfectly almost every single time.
A prodigy. She heard someone say, a title that was once reserved for her.
ˑ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ‧⛸️₊˚❄‧͙ .°౨ৎ .ᐟ
"All right, play nice, all of you. It's only a few weeks 'till showtime. We have to convince them we're worth watching and supporting, right?" one of Annabeth's most treasured coaches, two-time Olympic bronze medalist Silena Beauregard gives her 'team huddle' speech.
"Understood," Annabeth says. She's only fresh out of high school at 20 years old. But, with countless international medals on her belt and of course years of professional media training, she was going to be just fine.
After all, this wasn't her first rodeo. It was actually her second. Annabeth had qualified for the last winter Olympics four years ago, at only the age of 16. She actually made it to the podium, finishing in third place.
She was a child prodigy. Now, in her second Olympics, the pressure was on. Everybody could see her talent, how she glided through the ice as if she owned every fabric of its space. Like she was one with the rink.
They all expect gold from her. I mean, aren't they all to every athlete?
"Don't worry Silena," Piper Mclean, another US contender on women's single skating answers. "We’ll charm their pants off."
She was only about a year younger than Annabeth, this was her first time qualifying for the Olympics. Annabeth thought things would be awkward between them, especially, since they're both competing in the same category, under the same flag. But, over the course of the year that the US skate team has been training together, Piper was the person she gravitated towards the most. Her best friend.
"That's the spirit!" Jake Mason, another one of their coaches answers.
Annabeth looks around their team huddle, skaters of all shapes and sizes. Her and Piper leaning on each other, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano and Jason Grace, partners for ice dance both beaming up at Silena. Mason was on the side with an encouraging smile on his face, and right next to him, Percy Jackson, sole Olympic qualifier for the men's single skating.
This was the team flying to Italy in two weeks, and they were expected to return with a lot of legally stored gold in their suitcases.
Annabeth's heart feels about to burst. The pressure was on.
Of course, Seaweed Brain takes this as his cue to open his seaweed mouth, "No pressure guys, we're here for the fun of it right?"
No, we are not. This is serious, we're going to the Olympics. This is the most serious thing that Annabeth, Percy, and everyone in this room will probably ever do. Annabeth wanted to scream.
But, of course, she doesn't. She's a wise girl.
Annabeth did not understand. Percy was their golden boy. Though this is his first Olympics, everyone is making lovesick, googly eyes at him. He could make history, break a world record, if he could recreate that jump on the international stage. They've already promised it, a quadruple axel. The first one ever attempted on the Olympic rink.
Annabeth could feel the weight of expectations on her shoulders, but still, she wonders how it feels on his. Especially when he's acting like this. Maybe it's a coping mechanism for having a brain made of seaweed.
"All right," Silena steps forward. "Let’s do this team."
ˑ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ‧⛸️₊˚❄‧͙ .°౨ৎ .ᐟ
"So, Annabeth, your second time. How are you feeling?" A blonde-ish reporter wearing a cropped-cut suit, shoving her microphone towards Annabeth asks.
"Grateful," she smiles, "I feel less scared now,"lie "and I feel really assured."Also lie
"Doing this from a young age, and now, you're here about to do it a second time. Do you feel the pressure of reaching the podium again? Or even reaching first?"
"Of course," Annabeth speaks like she rehearsed. "But, everyone does. No one comes to the Olympics without dreaming of leaving with gold."
Many hums of agreement follow her answer.
A burly man, in a navy blue polo, steps up. "What do you have to say about the judges labeling your performance as boring and lacking in stunts overall?"
Annabeth falters—
"Actually, I think it's brilliant," a very annoying voice answers in her right. "I mean, it takes a lot in a person to perform artistically in every performance just as much as the jumps do."
Percy glances at her, and sends a kind of smug half smirk. Oh, here comes the hero, carrying the flag of feminism.
"Oh?" The asshole reporter won't relent, "Is that why you're having a hard time with the emotional aspects of your routines as well Percy? Many of the commentators are saying it."
Annabeth's mortified, her face starting to feel hot.
"Actually, I'm starting to wonder if people who can't even land a toe loop on the ice are really a good basis for entertaining such perspectives." Percy's clip voice answers before she thinks he could fully register what he's saying.
Silence stretches, cameras blink. Annabeth wondered if she should stand up and start booking Percy a flight on a remote private island where he never has to show his face in the media ever again.
Jason, thanks to every strand of his perfectly gelled blonde hair, interrupts and brings up his excitement in meeting Canada's ice dance partners and his long time admiration for them.
Annabeth meets Percy's eyes. A sea-green of calm, the exact opposite of what you would expect from someone who was just asked a question that was really just an alternative way to ask: "Are you actually good enough?"
It was always something that has been slapped on her face repeatedly. To the point where the sting becomes numb to her. She could tell Percy wasn't used to it though. He should if he hopes to survive the upcoming weeks, there's a lot more of that coming his way.
She could tell the coaches were antsy by the time the interviews wrapped up. On their way out, she worried her bottom lip, eyes distracted. She almost stumbles on a long wire near a podium, Percy grabs her arm and steadies her.
Annabeth looked up at him. "Thanks."
"Uhhh, duh?"
Annabeth gave her biggest, fakest smile.
ˑ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ‧⛸️₊˚❄‧͙ .°౨ৎ .ᐟ
The next day was reserved for packing.
Even before her alarm went off, Annabeth had everything already figured out. Her leotards were arranged in a neat pile, everything folded into a crisp.
She gazed at the early morning sun, and felt the warm rays settle on her skin. She reached for her phone, she always puts it on silent at night, afraid that it might wake her when she needs to rest the most.
She expected a few texts. Family and friends wishing her luck, some comments on her recent Instagram post, a late night text from Piper.
What she didn’t account for was getting tagged about almost a thousand times on some random video.
She clicked the link. It was a short edit from the press con yesterday.
The video started with her face at dead center. She resembled a small child who had her favourite plushie stolen. Had she really looked like that?
And then Percy's voice in the background. Actually, I think it's brilliant. I mean, it takes a lot in a person to perform artistically in every performance just as much as the jumps do.
It cuts to his face. She hadn't realized, he'd actually looked at her while saying it, wearing almost an expression of awe.
Suddenly, the background music gets even louder and she recognizes Taylor Swift's voice singing the words of You belong with me,
If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You belong with me, you belong with me
And to her absolute horror, the scene changes near the end of the interview, when Percy catches her after she nearly stumbles near the podium. The editors make it look more dramatic than it actually is, putting the moment in slow motion.
The video ends with Percy leaning down as if to whisper to her—the angle was so wrong!—and then they shared a big smile that lasted a lot longer than in reality, another slow motion effect, no doubt.
You belong with me
Have you ever thought, just maybe
You belong with me?
You belong with me
She looked down to check the number of views at the right corner. The number almost made her eyes bulge out of its sockets. 1.5 million views.
What.
The.
Fuck.
End of Chapter 1