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Annabeth liked numbers. She’d long thought in lines and angles and shapes. Those were how you made a building, after all. The geometry of the designs. The weights and measurements and for structural integrities. Calculations for cost and safety. Even when designing an impossible city for great and ancient deities, you needed to know those golden ratios, to make sure it was perfect in its beauty.
But somehow, the weight of those numbers, that were so clear in problem sets and on plans, could be so up in the air in her real life.
She couldn’t get her head around mortal money. She made the excel spreadsheets they used to budget, setting up the formulas and graphs. But Percy was the one who actually figured out how they should spend their money. It was probably a good thing that they had, she was given to understand, a lot of it.
Grades were another one. She could get the basic idea of a percentage of a hundred, but she never really got why they were in increments of ten, until you got below sixty and they were all the same. Her children's teachers, whom she knew they were paying an extremely high tuition amount to retain their services, seemed very frustrated by her lack of conceptualization.
And her children were another thing. ADHD was genetic, and time blindness permeated the Jackson household. But the biggest issue, from an outside perspective, apparently, was that Annabeth often found herself confronted by strange reactions to her number of children.
She was pregnant. And had had no less than five acquaintances at work ask her if she was excited about her first child. Followed by something like shock when she informed them that this would be her sixth.
She was vaguely aware, now that she was running in mortal circles, that most of her daughter’s classmates didn’t have the same number of siblings. Nor most of their friends, who were still, by and large, from the magical worlds. But she and Percy had also started pretty early in comparison. They’d had Junie between their twentieth birthdays.
But every time she mentioned it was number six, people looked at her with surprise. Even her fellow demigods. As though they all hadn’t grown up with at least half a dozen siblings, even before you took the alternate camp into consideration.
Thank the gods for Nico and Hazel, who, despite not having multi digit sibling numbers, had grown up Catholic in the 1930s. Which she was told, made them immune to things such as slightly larger numbers of children.
People liked to ask if they were done. And had been since Thalassa was born. She never really knew what to say to that. She had Percy hadn’t really talked about totals. They only actually started talking before she was pregnant about it with the last one. A trend she wasn’t sure she much liked. It took the fun and spontaneity out of them. There was no better surprise than finding out she was pregnant. But if it's planned, she knew going into it.
This baby was planned. She and Percy talked about one weekend, after Clarisse’s baby shower. Six weeks later, she’d taken a test and it was positive, as expected. Since then, it was business as usual. Digging out the baby things from the basement. Telling the kids and their families and their friends. Choosing what color blue to paint the nursery. Doctor’s visits and making sure her firm was ready for her maternity leave. All while dealing with the normal reality of raising five little girls who need to be driven to dance and dressage and sailing lessons. To say nothing of stopping by their very expensive school to yell at teachers and principals about how if they aren’t going to actually help neurodiverse kids with learning disabilities, they should take it off their website and probably cut tuition.
So here they were, five months in. She was wearing one of the chunky sweaters she’d knitted while pregnant with Sophie over maternity jeans. Because the thing about six pregnancies and being thirty-three was that your body decided the world needed to know about your condition early. But she was talking to her OBGYN, so it wasn’t like it would have been a secret, anyway.
Percy’s hand was intertwined with hers as they headed to the waiting room. Her favorite part of parenthood was doing it with Percy. They settled into the not quite comfortable chairs, and rested their clasped hands on her belly.
“I’m so excited,” he said.
“You always are.”
He agreed to that easily. “For our new little girl? Of course.” He leaned over and kissed her. And it made toes curl in her sensible sneakers. She’d been with this man for half her life, been his best friend longer. And yet he could still make her swoon like she was sixteen, and sneaking kisses at the end of the dock at camp.
“Me too,” she said, leaning into his shoulder. “Did we make a note to ask Lyra about bringing in the girls?”
The great thing about demigod doctors, was that they could give you tips to deal with doctors with ADHD, like to have a list of things to talk to them about beforehand. It was invaluable when you had two people whose mind went a million miles a minute.
But if this appointment went well, she really wanted to bring the girls to the next one. They’d brought Junie and Lucie and Thalassa along for appointments in pregnancies past, and if nothing else, she’d try to take them one at a time, and Sophia, too. But she’d love to get to do it as a family.
They timed it pretty well, and got called back quickly. Their doctor, Lyra Fabbro, was of course a daughter of Apollo, though one who’d attended camp nearly two decades before they had. She had come highly recommended years ago, by their family doctor, another child of Apollo.
The ultrasound tech was new. But the jelly was warm and she smiled as she started.
“Is this your first?” she chatted.
“No,” Percy said, “but we’re just as excited every time.”
She nodded, glancing at a chart. “It looks like you didn’t get to learn the sex last time, are we wanting to try and see today?”
She and Percy shared a look. They were 5/5 on girls, after all. She would still really love a little boy. Her little Percy Junior, to look at her with a sweet smile and baby seal eyes. But Percy had expressed a deep desire to grow his horde of shield maidens. And Annabeth couldn’t deny they were all pretty perfect.
“Sure,” she said.
“Alright, let's see what we can see.” She ran the ultrasound probe over Annabeth’s belly, and the three of them looked at the little black and white image of baby Jackson six.
“Congratulations,” she said, pointing up at the screen and pointing at a little area of shadow. “It’s a boy!”
“What?” Percy asked.
Annabeth stared for a second, taking in what the tech was pointing out to them. What she was saying. What exactly it meant.
And then she bursted into tears.
“Percy,” she turned to look at him, and he tore his eyes away from the picture of their son. “Percy, we’re going to have a boy.”
“Yeah,” He said slowly, and then he leaned down and kissed her through her tears. Pulling back and wiping one tear with his finger. “It looks like we are.”
She didn’t really calm down the rest of the appointment. Luckily, Lyra had been with Annabeth for three pregnancies before this one and did her own double take when she confirmed the sex of the baby.
He was growing at the right pace. His heartbeat was strong. Annabeth seemed in a good place.
“Congratulations on Baby Boy Jackson,” she said as wrapped up her appointment.
Annabeth let out another sob. “Baby Boy Jackson,” she said, putting her hand on her belly.
“That’s what they said,” Percy told her with a smile, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “Let's go home and see if your dad cries as much as you did about his first grandson.”
He did not. But he did cry, wrapping her in a tight hug.
It was almost dinner time, and her dad had already ordered out from the taco place down the street so it was a pretty easy experience to pry Junie and Lucie out of their rooms and into the living room of their brownstone, where tacos were distributed.
“So,” she said, once everyone had been handed their food. Astrid, not quite three, was on her Grandpa’s lap, because Frederick Chase really did not seem to mind getting queso all over his shirt. “We went to the doctor today, and we have some news.”
“Is everything ok?” Lucie asked. Lucie was Annabeth’s mini-me, but the frown on her face, the way her brows drew together, had Percy written all over it. Maybe she noticed Annabeth’s eyes, still pretty red, though she’d managed to wash the tear stains away.
“Everything is great, sweetie,” she promised, “We just learned something unexpected at the doctor.”
“Twins?” Thalassa asked.
“Nope,” Percy said.
“Something surprising,” Junie repeated, “but not bad? And not twins.”
Annabeth wondered if her little genius would put it together. But she did not do so before Annabeth wanted to explode with the news. “It's a boy!”
And that was when her dad started to cry. They handed out the sonogram, pointing out the anatomy.
Dinner was eaten, but never really got back on track.
Her excitement and surprise really carried her for the rest of the evening. Which ended up involving reading multiple of their daughters' baby books. And the story of how Athena was born, for good measure.
She was tired by the time she went to bed. Five kids were a lot to wrangle to sleep. Junie and Lucie’s bedtime was rapidly approaching non-existent. She figured if they could play with swords and climb lava walls, that was probably alright. But they did get at least a reminder about things like school and sleep.
Percy was circumspect as they got ready. Quiet. It wasn’t tense or hard. Silence was easy with Percy. Their presence together was still perfect. But normally they did chat before bed. A time for just the two of them.
She realized the issue as she saw him pause and stare at a pair of blue sleep pants before putting them on.
“Are you mad we’re having a boy?”
He looked up sharply. And she could only describe the look on his face as frantic.
“No,” he said, quickly, hurriedly, “Of course not. I… did I say something? Or do something? Are you alright? Can I…”
“You seem sad,” she said. “That’s all. And I know how much you like being a girl dad.”
“I’m not mad, wise girl,” he said, sitting on the bed, and scooting close to her. “I’m not and will never ever be mad about something related to our baby and who they are.” He paused. “I’m not sad, either. It's five to one, I think my reputation as a girl-dad is safe.”
“But…?””
“Remember, when Thalassa was born, and you said you were happy that we had Junie early enough for you to be stupid enough to think that you could be a better mother right out the gate. And that by the time you were old enough to be properly terrified about your lack of maternal role model, you already had two kids you had killed for. And would be happy to do so again.”
She did remember that conversation.
“Well… I’m definitely old enough to be really really worried I’m going to fuck this kid up.” he sighed. “Boys are… What if I put the wrong expectations on them? If he feels like he has to live up to some masculine ideal? And if he takes it out of other people? I got shield maidens covered. But what do I do with this? I didn’t get a positive role model in the guy department until I was like fifteen. And that barely counted.”
“I mean, contrary to what seems to be your belief, there were boy vikings too. They let them go pillaging and everything.” They both let out a little snort. And she knew it would be okay. Eventually. “I know, babe, I know. But have you considered that despite a lack of shining examples of masculinity, you’re a good man? A loving father and an amazing husband and the hero of a generation?”
“That’s you…”
“You’re not arguing that with me now,” she said. “Our son is going to have you as his first and main role model. He’ll know how to be a good man because of you.” She paused. “And we have people like my dad and Grover and Frank and Nico and Leo, and Paul, so he will not be lacking any of that. From the very first day, he has so many people in his corner. I promise.”
Percy sighed. “I am so so happy, Annabeth,” he said. “I am so so happy about this. You know I want to try everything with you. And raising a boy is 100% one of those. But I am scared. He deserves so much. And I want to be up for it.”
“You will be,” Annabeth said. “And if you fall behind a step or two, that’s why you have me, Seaweed Brain.” He laughed again, and leaned forward for another kiss.
He didn’t express a lot more doubt with her. Though she knew he had several long talks with her father. Who had raised a couple of perfectly fine young men. And he’d done that while being full of resentment and anger for their mother. Percy and she actually liked each other, so it would be fine. She was sure.
There was a lot of surprise in their circle. They all seemed to have thought girls were as inevitable as Percy and Annabeth had started to think they were.
Except for Clarisse, who she IMed on her due date, clearly bitter that she was still pregnant. “Well, you’re not allowed to steal my baby name.”
“I don’t even know it,” Annabeth pointed out. “You’ve been playing it pretty close to your chest.”
“Beau.” Clarisse said, “And it's mine.” It was pretty impressive how she was able to growl so intimidatingly at nine months pregnant. But it was a persona Annabeth could respect. She’d worked for something similar.
“Beau?” She said, but it has been since. “Beau La Rue.” It was very French.
“Yeah,” Clarisse said, “Beauregard Christopher La Rue.”
“Oh,” Annabeth said, she had not made that connection first. “That’s a great name,” She assured her. But it gave her pause, Silena’s legacy was a complicated one.
But Annabeth had a daughter named Lucie. So who was she to judge?
“You have a daughter named after Castellan,” Clarisse reminded her.
“I was just thinking that.” Annabeth smiled, “That’s a great name. But not one I’m particularly interested in. This one’s going to be Percy Jr.”
Clarisse frowned at her, “You’re not actually going to name him that.”
“Of course we are.” Annabeth said.
“Jackson agreed to that?”
“Yes,” then Annabeth paused. “We haven’t really talked about it, yet.” She hadn’t thought it was necessary. “But we named the first girl Annabeth, so we’ll name the first boy Percy. It makes sense.”
“The first boy?” Clarisse demanded “Are you going to have another one after this? I still don’t know how in all of Tartarus have you managed to go through this six times.”
“Well, I can compare it to actual Tartarus so…”
The rest of the conversation was taken up with Clarisse complaining about being pregnant, and proclaiming she was never doing it again.
Annabeth tended to enjoy being pregnant. She’s won two awards for buildings she’d designed while pregnant. It felt like it made her look at the world a different way.
Sally said it was because Annabeth was so smart that Pregnancy Brain just made her a different kind of genius.
But she was not opposed to letting Clarisse vent.
She was also glad to know the baby's name. It meant she could start on the embroidery for the quilt she’d already made. It was a pretty work, she thought. She’d pieced it together out of her fabric scapes. A caduceus crossed with a spear.
On one corner she started poking out Beau. She’d do it in Greek on the other one. And his initials on the other corners.
She tried to make the blankets every time a demigod she knew well enough had a baby. She’d say prayers into the stitches. And she whispered it now as she pulled the red thread through the fabric again and again.
Nico swore the one she made for Bianca-Marie had vaporized a monster on the spot. But he’d been really sleep deprived that year.
She’d start Percy’s soon. Though it might not be a quilt. Because they’d been traveling at the time, Thalassa’s had been crocheted in a wave pattern the colors of the Mediterranean sea. And when they decided that Astrid would be getting a Norse name, she’d nalbinded her blanket out of blue wool yarn she’s spun and dyed herself.
And she should probably talk to Percy about his impending Junior. Maybe to figure out middle names. And just to make sure everyone was on the same page.
They’d never thought a lot about boys' names. They had those conversations after they found out. Plus, she’d always known Percy was her choice.
So she had to start at the beginning for middle names.
The pattern they’d chosen so far was that if they named something Greek, like Thalassa or Sophia, they went with something outside that circle for middle names. For Annabeth, Lucie, and Astrid, Juno, Thalia, and Eleni were chosen very intentionally.
Perseus was perfectly Greek. So they could think about things more generally.
Percy didn’t have a middle name as a guide in this. So she started other places. The obvious answers, she supposed, were their own fathers. But Sophia already had Frederika in the middle spot. And the only way she ever could see them using Poseidon was if they had a set of twins, and could give the other one the middle name Athena. That was a fight she very much did not want to be in the middle of.
Maybe Paul? Magnus felt almost confusingly morbid. Her little cousin, dead at sixteen, but perfectly willing to send a letter or meet up for falafel and a walk through the ICA. Her brother’s possessed a very similar line of thought to Poseidon and Athena. And though it would have been less globally destructive, it would have made her feel worse. She cared way more about hurting their feelings than Poseidon and Athena’s. Plus, they had nixed Roberta or Bobbi or the like for Thalassa’s middle name already for just that reason.
Randolph was probably right out. The Chase family was an exercise in overcoming past forgiveness and working things out. But there was still the whole “killed Magnus, betrayed everyone, didn’t even manage a major self sacrifice in the end” thing.
So that was when she ran out of family. Unless she wanted to honor many times great grandpa Frey. Or Grandpa Zeus (shudder).
What had Sally’s dad been named again? Estelle the first’s husband. Annabeth for sure had been told it at some point. But right now it wasn’t coming to her. She’d ask Percy or Sally later.
Or gods, maybe Jason. Though Leo has been making some cryptic comments about his family planning goals, recently. She’d started setting aside red, orange, and yellow scraps of fabric in anticipation of that baby’s quilt. And they probably shouldn’t use Jason while Leo still had first dibs. Plus, a double dose of ancient hero names might be too much. And the historical Jason’s ending was no happier than her friends. And a worse person by several orders of magnitude.
There were other friends, alive and dead, of course: the likes of Frank and Leo. Grover might be perfect. But Perseus Grover didn’t sound great to her ears. Nico. Percy had feelings about Will saving her life. She thought she read somewhere Zoe could be a boy's name, if you spelled it differently. She had a couple of siblings that meant an awful lot to her. But it would be hard to choose Malcom over George or vice versa. Beckendorf? Clarisse’s Beau might set the stage nicely. Or maybe they could do Charles? Perseus Charles had a nice ring to it. But it would be weird to name him after their friend, but with a name no one but Silena hand called him.
Which left random names, then. She wasn’t even sure which ones she liked. Alexander? Hector? Oliver?
She really could not get out of the Greek mindset.
After several days of rumination, she went looking for a second opinion.
“What are we thinking of middle names?” She asked as she folded the laundry and he scrubbed down the inside of the air fryer.
“Beck,” he said in an instant. “Like Beckendorf but a little more succinct.”
“Beck,” she said aloud. “Beck. Perseus Beck Jackson.” She nodded, “yeah, I like it.”
“Um.” The water stopped abruptly. “What was that first name?”
“Perseus.” Annabeth said not looking up as she rolled the hand towels into the little seahorse and crab design she used for the power room on this floor.
“We are absolutely not calling him that.”
She looked up sharply, his tone was… well. It was one she didn’t associate with Percy, a kind of detached coldness.
“What?”
She could see Percy take in several deep breaths. “Sorry,” he said. “I know it's a joke. We always try out silly names. But… I don’t think this one is cute like Honey Dew or Birdie. And I really don’t want someone to think we’d ever actually consider it.”
She looked at him, and wasn’t sure she’d been shocked about anything he did since he’s turned down godhood. Which probably said great things about the stability of their marriage and compatibility as a couple. “It wasn’t a joke,” she said. “It… why… I thought it was a done deal. He's Percy Jr.”
He actually winced, before giving her the most baffled look. “We had definitely never talked about that. Because we would definitely not do that to the poor kid. Not ever, even if we just had to pick a random name off the top ten list. But we already have the perfect name. Why are we even thinking about it?”
“We do have the perfect name,” she agreed, “Perseus.”
“As a previous holder, let me assure you, it's no such thing,” he said. “Why are we even talking about this? Obviously we’re going to name him Chase.”
She blinked in surprise. But any serious consideration was ridiculous because, “We already have an Annabeth Jr. Why wouldn’t we name one after you?”
“They all already are named after me,” he said. “That's where the Jackson comes from.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“How does it not count?”
“They have to have a last name.”
“Sure, it doesn’t have to be Jackson. It could have been any permutation of Chase-Jackson. Or just Chase. At which point naming him Jackson Chase would be fine by me.” He paused. “Honestly, we could still do that. If you really wanted to. Your dad would probably cry.”
“We’re not giving one of our children the last name Chase, when no one else, including me, has it.”
Percy nodded. “First name, then. Like I said.” And then he went back to the dishes.
She didn’t normally feel like she was dismissed by Percy. But there was a first time for everything.
When they were curling up into bed that night, the coldness of the day mostly forgotten because she could feel Percy’s heart beat against her back. She had to say some of her piece. “The discussion about the baby name isn’t over.”
“Okay,” Percy murmured into her shoulder, “But not tonight.”
“No,” she agreed, snuggling closer into him, “not tonight.”
“And we are not naming him Perseus.”
The next day, he dug back out the baby name book. It wasn’t in great shape. They’d only really looked at it for Junie and Astrid. Before it has been tossed aside during the great Olivia fight in the lead up to their current youngest’s birth.
He was clearly not enthusiastic about the discussion. Nor the lists they made.
A bunch of rote choices: Alexander. Arthur. James, which turned out to be his mortal grandfather’s name. Felix. Ezra. Max. Zane. Caleb. Rick. Drew. Joe. Taylor. John. Jake. Harry. Matt. Calvin. Tom.
“Are we sure we don’t like Joe?” Percy asked, “Or maybe be Matt? We could try Matt again.”
“I don’t like how Joe feels on my lips,” Annabeth said, “And Matt’s my brother.”
“Right.”
They asked the girls for suggestions. But most of them had been things like “Nemo” and “Moana” and “Periwinkle.”
Junie’s suggestion of Theodore and Thalassa’s of Navy had both gone onto the list.
Her father’s suggestion of Erik was added to the list. But Duncan and Bjorn were both left off.
Estelle had a bunch of names that corresponded with boybands Annabeth had never heard of.
Sally patted her hand and said she’d figure it out.
No one was getting anywhere, though.
None of them sounded right or felt right. All the girls' names meant something in one way or the other.
The list kept getting longer and longer. Just as her belly kept getting bigger.
“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” She finally asked after they’d spent an entire Sunday afternoon going through the list, and the book, and a copy of the Iliad, just in case they got some new inspiration.
He frowned at her, “Still not naming our baby after a gross fruit.” He said, like she was talking about Oliver from three hours ago. And had quickly backtracked on. The Olivia fight was not worth it either way in the end. “But there are a hundred names on this list. Anyone would be fine. Just pick whichever two you want.” He handed her the pad.
“Why can’t we just name him after you.”
“Because my name is horrible,” he said. “So…”
“Your name isn’t horrible,” she said. She’d never heard him say anything like that.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what all the kids in elementary school thought about the poor charity case with the ‘fancy’ name.”
“I… you don’t really hate your name, do you?” Because they had definitely never had anything like that conversation.
He sighed. “Not really. But it's not… I appreciate the point. But it just felt like a lot growing up.”
“Your mom named you after a great hero.”
“My mom named me because she had a crush on Harry Hamlin in the 80s.” He said.
“Just because that was the first time she heard the name, doesn’t mean that’s the only reason.” Annabeth said. But Sally had confirmed that she’d seen the movie at age nine, which had been her introduction to Greek mythology. “It's about being strong and successful. A hero.”
“And you don’t think that might be a lot to put on a baby? A name that means the first hero? The one from whom even great ones later descended? That’s so much of an expectation to put on him. So much of a legacy to have before he’s even born.”
“So, what do you want to name him?”
“Chase Beck.” Percy said, “I’ve said this before.” He had, though they’d almost stopped talking about their two preferred names at all.
“And Chase doesn’t come with expectations. Doesn’t have a legacy to live up to.”
“Expectations like being a Celtics fan and Harvard Legacy admissions are ones I’m okay with.” He said, “But not saving the world. Not being some platonic ideal of happily ever afters.”
“Perseus was the name of a good son, and a good husband,” she pointed out. “And you carry it well.”
He frowned, “Well, I certainly don’t want him to be those things only because he thinks his name expects it of him. Or to be in a place where he has to go and murder a woman to protect his mother from a would-be step father.”
That was playing dirty.
“I doubt that would be an issue,” Annabeth said with a smirk. “But I doubt any son of your’s would not do such things, if he felt he had to.”
He didn’t smile back, just parried with, “Why don’t you like Chase?”
“I don’t not like it,” she said. It had a soft familiarity. Something she knew like the back of her hand. It wasn’t bad. “But I love you more than I love my maiden name. I just… Can you blame me for wanting a little mini you after so long?”
“I thought I was Daddy’s mini.” They must have gotten really into baby name hyper focus. Or Thalassa’s stealth training was coming along well. She hadn’t noticed her coming in.
And she did not like the look on her face at all.
Thalassa Amalia Jackson was, in fact, a mini Percy. Unruly black hair and green eyes, nose and chin and smile. She had, literally, been born at sea. And conceived on one too. A little ocean demigoddess in every step. It was no wonder her name had been so easy.
“Of course you are, baby,” Percy said. With one fluid motion, she reached down and lifted her up. She was eight now, but her father lifted her easily. As he swung her close, her long hair fell over head and there was a line where she couldn’t really tell them apart.
After a second, Percy set her back down. But he still hugged her close. “And I am so glad I have you.”
Her face, half shoved into her father’s side, the other half glaring at Annabeth, looked just like Percy having to hear Zeus rattle off some nonsense about his great victory over Kronos or his department chair suggesting a new committee. The complete and total doubt in the authority proclaiming something.
Annabeth normally didn’t mind her daughters sharing their father’s impertinence. She loved it in all six of them.
But she didn’t love it directed at her. Her goal was to never have her daughters lose faith in her.
“Estelle said,” Thalassa said, into Percy’s shirt, “that you were really happy about having a boy because you thought there were too many girls. And then one of her friends said you wouldn’t have had so many of us if you’d had a boy instead of one of us earlier.”
“Estelle and I,” Percy said, “are going to be having a very serious conversation about her editorializing on our parent choices.”
“Baby,” Annabeth said, pushing herself off the couch and going to her. She was pretty relieved that a gentle tug pulled her away from Percy, and Annabeth gave her a hug, though she couldn’t lift her up at seven months pregnant. “I am very excited about your brother. But I was just as excited about all of you. I am so so happy with exactly who you are.”
“Then why does Daddy need another mini him? I’m right here.”
She was. Right here. A little girl with Percy’s eyes and hair. Who told jokes at the dinner table and sometimes sat with Annabeth at the loom, weaving together the perfect threads for the color of her new dress. Who had almost gotten suspended last week for yelling ancient Greek obscenities on the playground when a classmate had pushed a younger kid off the swing. Annabeth had praised her restraint. But she would have probably praised a suckerpunch, too.
“Cause I really really really love you,” Annabeth said truthfully. “And I really really really love your Dad. And I just want more of you.”
She paused. And then figured honesty was the best policy, and her kid was smart enough to get nuances. “Daddy and I are just having a hard time figuring out what to name your brother.” She kind of half leaned and half squatted down to kiss her nose. “You were so easy to name. You came out on our boat, our perfect little sea princess.”
“So you had to name me right,” Thalassa finished. Remembering the story. It was one shared before.
“Exactly,” Annabeth agreed. “Want to look at the names with us?”
And that occupied them until dinner time, though it was much more an exercise in quality time with her daughter than any kind of productive naming conversation.
Neither Perseus nor Chase came up.
And it didn’t come up the next week, either.
Percy and Annabeth had a bi weekly standing date night, where the kids went off with Grandpa, and they could have uninterrupted time they were otherwise always on the lookout for, but could not be guaranteed when Lucie might lose her riding shoes or Thalassa couldn’t find the right size knitting needle for her sweater.
Annabeth, always ready with a plan, decided that the next one would be some good one on one time to dig into this.
And warned Percy of her intention.
Percy had been game, and picked up dinner on the way home. Normally he cooked for date nights like this, but he didn’t want to take the time for cooking and cleaning, when he could be talking to her.
They doled out food and settled on the couch. It was easy to talk about their days. Percy’s classes, the wrap up Annabeth was doing before her maternity leave. Sitting on the couch with Percy was about Annabeth’s favorite place to be. And when she told him that, he blushed. Which made everything sweeter.
They didn’t actually start in on baby names until they got to dessert.
“I’ve decided to play dirty,” Percy said, after feeding her a couple bites of cake, and purposefully getting a bit of frosting on her nose.
“Oh have you?”
He nodded, and then reached for his messenger bag. “I went digging in the attic,” he said, and then pulled out a purple composition notebook. It was battered around the edges, and about half of the white pattern had been filled in with blue pen. Written in the center, in a very familiar hand is said, Άναμπεθ Τσαις and below it, Annabeth Chase 9th Grade.
“We still have that?” she laughed in disbelief.
“I am astounded by what we are keeping,” Percy said. “Especially given how little space we had when we first moved to Boston, and then back to New York.” Now they had the whole 6 stories of their townhouse. They’d kind of ended up storage for a lot of people. If felt like something they might have taken from her dad when he’d moved back, and not wanted to leave anything behind for Charlotte to use to curse them, or something.
She’d mentioned that in passing once to a colleague at work, who’d laughed. And Annabeth had thought it must be so strange to live in a world where magic couldn’t just be used to solve and then cause all your problems.
“Are you dying to prove to me that you’re better at translating Latin then I am?”
“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, and then he broke open the notebook, and passed it to her.
There was a lesson name scribbled at the top: subjunctive mood. But after one bullet point, it devolved into doodles that now looked a lot like a Mark of Athena.
But that wasn’t where Percy’s finger was pointing. He was pointing to the opposite page. Where, in much neater handwriting, going back and forth between Latin Script and Greek, it said “Annabeth Chase Jackson” about hundred times. She hadn’t always gone for the hyphenate. She was pretty sure she’d gone with “Mrs. Percy Jackson” plenty, too. But her husband had chosen well for his argument.
“Someone,” he said, “who was and is a genius, sure thought ‘Chase’ and ‘Jackson’ sounded nice together.”
“You really do play dirty.”
“What’s the saying, even stubbornness has to bow to wisdom, sometimes?” She kicked him, but he was only about twelve inches away from her, so she couldn’t get any kind of leverage. He leaned over and kissed her, before pulling back and looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
And damn, she has always thought Chase Jackson sounded good together. It did sound good together. It sounded great together. But…
“We already named a kid after me.”
“And we’re going to name this one after me anyway. Unless you want to choose a random last name other than Jackson.” He pointed out, she was pretty sure for the second time.
But Annabeth Chase Jackson… Annabeth Jackson would not give in without a fight. “You’re a hero.”
“So are you,” he said, “and you’re one who didn’t have a prophecy of great death and destruction hanging over you. While trying to live up to the only hero who saves his mom and his girlfriend. I think we can do better.”
“Even if Chase means living up to being a Bruins fan?”
“You know I don’t care about hockey. Now, if he wants to be a Pats fan…”
She kissed him again, and only a little to shut him up.
Chase Jackson.
Chase Jackson she tried out over the next week or so. It was so easy. So obvious. It rolled off her tongue and off her mind. It was so easy to call the baby growing inside of her Chase.
It might be the perfect name.
But she didn’t have to like it.
Even though she did, and it made something warm sit in her belly. Her son and her name.
But Perseus still flitted in her brain, particularly when she saw her husband, love of her life, be the father of her children.
Like as he held Astrid over out over the water, letting her feed the fish with one hand, chatting away.
How could she not want her son to reflect his father in all things? Name as well as appearance?
Why didn’t he see it?
“I don’t know why he’s being like this,” Annabeth complained the next weekend to Nico, who was over for a playdate. Or maybe not. Bianca-Marie and Lucie had both insisted as proper tweens now, they didn’t have play dates. They hung out.
Where they were hanging out was a mystery. Possibly in the gym downstairs, practicing on the matts. Possibly getting into the expensive makeup Annabeth was in the habit of impulse buying and then not using. Possibly quietly playing Mythomagic in Lucie’s room. You never could tell what a couple of demigods might get up to.
“Percy is insecure,” Nico said, “ more shocking news at 11.”
“What does he even have to be insecure about?”
“You’re the one who got to marry him,” Nico said, old pains downgraded to pointed teasing. “I feel like you should know why if I know why.”
“Yeah.”
She did know why. She really really did. But she just couldn’t fathom it. Percy Jackson was an amazing father and husband and best friend and lover and shield brother and partner-in-crime. But it broke her heart just the same.
“So shouldn’t I convince him? To Help heal old pains and make peace?”
“Have you considered that he’s having the same conversation about Chase somewhere right now?”
“That isn’t why I don’t want to use Chase.”
“Really?”
“We literally already have an Annabeth, I clearly have no issue with a namesake.”
“But your family name…?”
“That isn’t an issue,” she insisted. “Chase was mine. As much as it is Dad’s, or ever was his ex-wife's.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” she said. “I do say so, thank you very much.”
That conversation was very conveniently ended by Sophie screaming, because Nico’s zombie chauffeur’s fingers had come off again.
It took Annabeth a while to calm her down, while Lucie and Bianca-Marie sewed the fingers back together. But that mostly meant cuddling with her on the big chair, working on Sophie’s current crochet project, and explaining the concept of the undead and the underworld children in a child-friendly way, until she was no longer sniffling. And Annabeth has never minded hanging out with her kids. So it would have been a good way to spend her Saturday even if it hadn’t shut Nico up.
Percy didn’t come back from Junie’s equestrian event until after dinner, bearing several blue ribbons and a box of cannolis from the Italian place down the block from their townhouse. Because he was the perfect husband.
After tucking the kids into bed, and getting reacquainted with each other in the shower, they settled into bed.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing the back of her neck as they cuddled together.
“It wasn’t even a full twelve hours,” she reminded him, but she still laced their fingers together.
“Still too long.” He said. “How was Nico?”
For a moment, she considered brushing over it. Or mentioning one of the half a dozen other topics they’d talked about when he was over.
But Percy and Annabeth didn’t get to be Percy and Annabeth by ignoring the hard stuff. Sometimes by ignoring the easy stuff, but never the hard bits.
“He said you’re insecure and that’s why you don’t want us to name our baby after you.” She felt herself hold a breath, worried, just a bit, he wouldn’t like this interruption to their tranquil night together.
“Well, he really wants to cut to the quick, doesn’t he,” Percy said, and there was a chuckle to his tone, but it was more sardonic than delighted. “What does my actual wife think about it?”
“That you are unnecessarily insecure about a lot of things, and I hate it. But that's not the main issue here.”
“That’s why you’re the brains and Nico’s the brawn.”
“I thought you were the brawn.”
“I am,” he agreed, “but Nico’s the backup me.”
“So…?”
“So?”
“What is it?”
“We’ve talked about it,” Percy sighed. “It’s a big name. A big legacy.”
“You’re a good man. And more important than some old hero.”
She felt his smile on the back of her neck. “I hope I will be, to him, and to you. And to all of our kids. But… it’s not going to change the impact of Perseus from a long time ago.”
“Come on, you were telling me just the other week that he’s after Hercules, Achilles, and Odysseus as far as your students even know about him.”
“Yeah,” Percy agreed, “but that makes it weird, too. I’m supposed to be named after the big important guy no one has even heard of. And if we saddle it on our kid, he’ll have all of that, and all of me. Which isn’t fair.”
“He won’t be saddled with you. He’ll have you to emulate and look up to. It isn’t that complicated.”
“There is complicated stuff about it,” Percy insisted.
Annabeth didn’t respond for a moment, thinking about her husband, her family, the father of her children, her daughters. “And is it that you’re scared to have a son?”
“We have a son,” Percy said, “does Himbo mean nothing to you?”
“I am not talking about the cat and you know it,” Annabeth said. And felt him sigh behind her.
“I am scared shitless to have a son,” he said, and his already low voice was barely more than a whisper. “I… gods, what the fuck do I do? I don’t know any guy who has a good relationship with their father.”
“Nico?”
“Yeah, I’ll just roll up into the Underworld all, ‘Hey Uncle, other than telling him you wish he’d died instead of Bianca, you and Nico seem to have an okay relationship. Any advice?’”
“My dad has sons.”
“I like your dad, and love his willingness to babysit at the drop of a hat for free, but he also checked out of parenting in the year 2000 and didn’t decide to come back until Junie was born.”
Which was true enough.
“And yet, you want to name our kid after him.”
“I want to name our kid after you, in fact, as per our last conversation, I thought it was mostly settled,” he said. “But is that why you’re still not sure, because you still haven’t forgiven your dad?”
That brought her up short. “Have I not?” Hadn’t she? They’d had a couple of very intense conversations when she was in college in which they both cried a lot. Then he got a divorce, moved back to the east coast to be closer to her and his grandkids. Made being a good grandfather a priority. And she let him. But with Percy’s doubt, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and she might have thought he’d fallen asleep. “Percy…?”
“I mean,” he squeezed her hand, “I think you’ve moved past it. And I think you accept him into our lives and even into your heart. But you’re still mad sometimes, aren’t you. Sometimes you say things about when he married Charlotte. Or when he stayed with Charlotte for seventeen years after she proved how much she wanted to be the evil stepmother from Cinderella.”
“Yeah,” she said, “I…” And she remembers so clearly being seven years old and just wanting her dad, and him not being there.
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he said. “And if you really don’t want to use Chase because of that…”
“Charlotte doesn’t get to ruin my own name for me,” Annabeth snapped, and meant it. Because no evil step mothers sent from fairytale hell got to ruin her perfect baby name. And it was the perfect name. But still. “I don’t know why you won’t let me use your name.” And she pulled her hand away.
He sat up in bed, and then leaned over and turned back on the lamp.
She glared a little, sitting up to match him. “Really?”
“This is apparently too important for spooning.”
“Nothing is more important than spooning,” Annabeth shot back.
“You know why,” Percy said, “because going through the world, either world, having everyone you speak to, interact with you through the weight of the heroes that came before is hard. No kid deserves to have that burden.”
Huffing, she threw her hands up in the air, like the answer was floating somewhere above her. “Well, what about as a middle name, then?”
“Middle name?” Percy looked confused, brow furrowed. But there was something in his voice that sounded different. Curious. Excited.
She seized on it. “Yes. How about Chase Perseus Jackson?”
Percy looked thoughtful. “Chase Perseus Jackson,” he said to himself, testing out the sound of it. She could see him examining it in his mind’s eye, sizing it up like a challenge. It was a good compromise, she thought. He’d carry his father’s legacy. But he would grow up to be his own man. “I think… I think I could do that.”
Her heart swelled in her chest, big enough to burst.
“But how would you feel,” he offered after a moment, “about Chase Percy Jackson?”
It all seemed like semantics to Annabeth, but she wouldn't be herself if she didn’t add a, “Why?”
“Because, if you really want to name this kid after me, twice, for some reason–”
“Maybe because you're his dad, and my best friend, and a hero.”
But he went on. “I would like you to actually name him after me, and not after the myth. Not a name that no one has ever called me, except for angry gods.”
She looked at him, considering it. Had she ever heard anyone else call him Perseus? Not his mother, even when she was angry at him. Not the officiant at their wedding. And not even her, she was pretty sure. Most gods were friendly enough with him now to default to Percy.
It was, perhaps, a little bit like when people tried to pretend to be her friend, and called her Annie, or, gods forbid, Beth, neither of which were her name. Or when someone assumed her middle name was Elizabeth, and then got mad when she got offended and said that Annabeth Elizabeth would be a really stupid name. And her dad might have the whole clueless professor thing going on, but even he hadn’t been that sleep deprived when he’d named her.
Chase Percy Jackson.
Her little boy, named after his Mommy and his Daddy.
She mulled it over some more, but she wasn’t sure, completely sure, until the next week, when she was doing some finishing work on the baby quilt, making sure it was ready for their new family member, just a few weeks away. She spelled it out in Latin characters, CHASE. The third thing she’d ever learned to write in Latin characters.
She felt him kick. He was a rambunctious thing like his five big sisters and his even bigger daddy, and she had it on pretty good authority, his mommy, too.
She said her blessings as she pulled her embroidery needle through the three layers of fabric. Blessings of protection. Blessings of strength. Blessings of wisdom. Blessings of battle. Blessings of crafts. This weekend or the next, she and Percy would drive out to Long Island, and rent a boat for the day, and on the open water, they’d spin some blessings of the sea, too.
She said her blessings into the two names she and her little boy would share: Chase and Jackson.