Epilogue

For what it's worth: trust your feelingsI can't promise that you'll never get hurt againBut I can promise you the risk is worth it

-Rick Riordan

———

Two Years Later

Typically, differentiating between dreams and reality is quite easy. This was not the case for me the past few nights. For some unapparent reason, the lines blurred and left me more confused than an ADHD kid in their first year of Algebra.

Demigod dreams often contain monsters, the future, past or present, a mix of those, or nothing at all. So you can imagine my surprise when my supposed dreams of the past turned into that of the future.

The dreams always started the same, centered around the little girl, no older than six, holding onto a swingset. Her back facing me as she pumped her small legs, bringing herself higher and higher. Part of me, for whatever reason, wanted to get closer in the event that she would fall.

Instead, I just stared, analyzing every detail. The way she would huff in annoyance when the swing didn't reach the height she wanted. Her giggles as a rush of wind blew her hair in all directions. Blonde princess curls that weaved into what I recognized as a fishtail braid—the only kind I knew how to do.

The more I looked, the more I thought the little girl was Annabeth at a much younger age. Perhaps, a memory of simpler times before the stress of being a demigod.

"Be careful on those swings!" I heard a voice call from behind me. The little girl squealed in response claiming she would, then returned to happily pumping her legs with closed eyes to produce the illusion of flight.

Everything was going fine until the girl leaned back too far and lost her grip on the chains. I ran over just in time to keep her head from hitting the ground.

"Are you okay?" I asked, worried she hurt something. Her eyes were shut tightly, bracing herself for pain. Slowly, they opened. Her eyes destroyed the idea of the girl being Annabeth.

"Yup!" She giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug before jumping right back on the swing. She continued pumping her little legs, pretending as if like a total stranger hadn't just saved her from cracking her head open.

I can't blame her for totally writing off what just happened, however. My thoughts only consisted of her eyes.

"Look!" she squealed, "I'm flying, Baba!"

And then, with those last three words echoing in my head, the dream was over. However, the dream stayed with me, I could remember every detail—probably because it was the fifth time I had that particular dream. Despite the many different aspects and details of the dream, my thoughts always went back to the same thing... Her eyes.

Now, I know that Poseidon isn't exactly what Christians would refer to as a Saint, but he's trying and staying loyal to his wife, Amphitrite. There's no way he pulled a Zeus and decided it was time for me to have a sister...

Right?

After staring at the ceiling hoping for sleep to return for a few minutes, I decided it was a lost cause and left the warmth and comfort of my bed. The covers shifted as I got up, causing Annabeth to shiver slightly in her sleep.

What if I took the entire blanket away and whacked her in the face with a pillow? my mischievous side thought with a smile.

Or... you could make some blue pancakes for her and yourself, the other side of me thought.

The pancake idea would not only give me food, but also brownie points with Annabeth. On the other hand, messing with her would be hilarious. Classic angel-on-one-shoulder-and-devil-on-the- other moment.

Gentlemen only exist after sunrise, I finally decided.

I went up to the window and opened the curtains slightly. A stream of sunlight shined in. I sighed in disappointment before covering her with the blanket and walking out towards the kitchen.

In my half-asleep daze, I failed to recognize Parker already sitting at the dining room table. So you can imagine the mini heart-attack he gave me when he made his presence known.

"Hey," Parker said simply, but it was enough to make me jump five feet in the air and draw a butterknife. The panic died down once I realized it was only him.

"That's a spooky knife you got there."

"Good morning to you too," I said back, putting the butterknife down. "Thanks for the jump scare."

He scoffed and put his phone on the table— my guess is before I interrupted he was chatting with Jamie. After a mutual but emotional breakup with Lacy Grace, Jamie, a visiting demigod from Camp Half-Blood, helped Parker get back on his feet. And by "getting back on his feet" I mean that Jamie basically told him to quit moping around and that Lacy wasn't the only fish in the sea. Parker better responded to Jamie's methods than our sensitive ones, and quickly went back to his regular self.

They kept in touch after that, and nearly a year later, they were the best of friends. However, Parker would never admit this, but I knew he secretly had a crush on Jamie.

"All I said was hey." Parker defended.

"Could've told me you were there."

"Are you blind? I was sitting right here!"

I shushed him, partly because I didn't want him waking up the sleeping beasts, but mostly because he was winning the argument. As I brought out the ingredients for the pancakes, I started the conversation back up, only this time at a lower volume. "Surprised to see you up so early."

"Axel snores like a leaf blower, I couldn't sleep."

I held in a chuckle, knowing very well he was under-exaggerating Axel's snore levels. When we first adopted him, his snores sounded like little whistling noises. Now, however, you cannot tell the difference between a category five hurricane and his snores. Nevertheless, even if it meant having to listen to his snores, I wouldn't change a thing. His English and my German have finally gotten to the point where we can piece together a full conversation.

He's a great kid. Not that he wasn't before, just now I can speak with him without Annabeth as a translator.

"Perhaps you should invest in sound-proof headphones," I said. "That might help."

"Or you could ask Mom if we could turn her architecture space into another bedroom."

I laughed. "Yeah, sure. Shall I explain the reasoning behind your idea as I'm gettin' my ass handed to me or after?"

"After, definitely," Parker said. "I wanna watch."

"I can't believe you're willing to risk your father's health and your mother being arrested all for a bedroom."

"What am I going to jail for?" I heard Annabeth ask from the doorway. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, probably as a result of us waking her up.

"Domestic violence," Parker said as Annabeth sat next to him. "We were just talking about converting your Office of Architecture into a new bedroom."

"Oh?" She gave me a look.

I looked at Parker. "But we dismissed the idea after realizing it's your space and you should decide what to do with it."

Truth be told, the only reason Annabeth and I were adamant against him getting the architecture office was because we were remodeling the basement. In that remodeled basement would be Parker's new room along with other rooms.

I shifted my attention to the blue pancake batter. Annabeth must have sent Parker away to do something because I heard two different sets of footsteps; one leaving the room and the other coming towards me.

"What's bugging you?" Annabeth mumbled into my back as her arms snaked around my waist.

"What gives you the impression something is bothering me?" I asked.

"You haven't really been sleeping all that well. Last one to bed, first to rise. The bruises under your eyes."

I sighed. "I've been having these dreams..."

"Tartarus?"

"No." I found myself explaining to her the dream containing the little girl as I finished making the pancakes. How that same dream has been on replay for the past few days.

Annabeth was just as confused with the repeating dream as I was. "Maybe it's some kind of suppressed memory of yours?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I said as the boys walked in. I plastered a large smile on my face and told them to grab some pancakes. If there was anyone who liked blue pancakes more than me, it would be these two— I'm positive it's an instant habit you acquire when you join the family.

"Do not hog the syrup, you swine!" Axel said. Sibling rivalry always fascinated me, they would gladly risk their lives for each other, but won't allow the other to steal some food without the price of their hand.

Nonetheless, I made Axel apologize for the name-calling. We pulled out a second bottle of syrup to drown our pancakes and sat around the four-seat table.

"Oh hey, I forgot to ask," I said to Annabeth who had gotten up to grab seconds from the island, "what does 'Baba' mean."

"It means dad in multiple languages and cultures, including Greek," Annabeth answered. "Why do you ask?

I kept eating. "Weird. That's what the girl called me in the dreams."

Parker dropped his silverware, the sharp noise forced me to turn my attention to him. His attention, however, was on Annabeth.

"Are you—?" Parker cut himself off. "No way."

"Not necessarily how I wanted it to come out, but yeah. It was confirmed yesterday." Annabeth said, the corners of her lips coming up. They finally formed a smile when Parker rushed up to hug her.

I was confused, then relieved after realizing Axel was just as lost. Parker turned around, saw our confused expressions, and said, "Seriously? You have no idea what we're talking about, do you?"

Nope, none at all. Yesterday, I made Annabeth go to a mortal doctor because she hadn't been feeling well and she would not have gone otherwise. She told me nothing was wrong, and stayed home for the rest of the day.

"Drawing a blank here," I said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"What?!"

"I'm—" I didn't give her a chance to answer before rushing over wrap her in a hug. Usually, I let Annabeth finish what she has to say before hugging or kissing her, but I figured this time I'd make the exception.

"Oh!" I heard Axel say. We, simultaneously, turned to look at him. "Sorry, I couldn't remember what pregnant meant."

After staring at him, Parker piped up to stop the incredibly weird moment. "Group hug?"

"Group hug," I agreed.

And that's how we ended up, wrapped in each other's arms celebrating the set of arms that would be joining us in the future.

Since that decision two years ago, I haven't regretted a thing. And something tells me, I never will.

***

A/N: the end, bitches. Wow, that was rude sorry.

Thank you so much for reading Omega! It's been a long journey, but it's come to a close. I wish I could make some great speech, but I feel like I'm hungover and I haven't had any alcohol since my mom offered some of her alcohol-popsicle to me.

Peace out!✌️

Word Count: 1925 words