a/n: well, here we are again. Another new story. This story was originally going to be released celebration Hotel Escape's anniversary, but I didn't want to juggle three stories because I know I'd get lazy about updated them in a timely fashion. So since Hotel Escape is now over (or will be over in a week or so) this is coming out in celebration … or consolation, depending on how you see it.

Anyway, this idea has been floating around in my mind for a ridiculous amount of time so, after toiling endlessly on it, I decided to write it.

I'm going to apologize in advance for the endless stream of historical inaccuracies. I will also, just for my own convenience, be ignoring the consequences of unprotected sex such as stds and unplanned pregnancies. Do not misunderstand, I do not in any way or form condone unprotected sex unless you and your partner have both been tested and are on a reliable birth control. Also, I think it's very common to see abusive relationships romanticized on so I am definitely not trying to promote that with love-hate relationships.

Additionally, this story will address some mature themes, primarily emotional abuse and rape. The rape is a really short scene in the second chapter. I'll definitely warn y'all before tho so if you're uncomfortable at all, just go ahead and skip it.

Another little fyi, this story might be a bit of a slow burn because, although, I love smutty stories, this just fits better with the time frame.

Full Summary: Annabeth is a young woman bound by her duty to her family and her people with a secret threatening to destroy her. Piper was a girl trapped by her social class who has escaped and built a life for herself at sea. Percy is a terrible rogue struggling to defend his ship of misfits from threats both at sea and on land. Jason is a soldier in the king's army looking to avenge his sister. What will happen when the four clash? Will they become unlikely allies or enemies? Royalty-ish au.

(yes, I'm aware my summary sucks. I'll fix it soon, I promise)

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, and even that is debatable.

Chapter One

Power

"I would be delighted," Annabeth swallowed thickly, running the tip of her tongue along her teeth, preparing for war or accord, she wasn't sure which. Not yet, anyway.

She drew her lips into an adoring smile despite the soft screaming of her cheeks as she continued to force the pleasantly naive expression; the pain didn't bother her much anymore, she'd grown accustomed to the dull ache. She supposed years of political games and failed coops did that to a girl.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Luke questioned, his lips pulling into a disbelieving smirk. He arched his brow in an amused manner as he glanced across the long ornate table to where she was seated. "You look… distressed," he drew out the word with a deliberate ease, flicking his icy gaze to her hands.

Annabeth glanced down, following his brief gaze, and noticed she'd been unknowingly tapping her fingers to the rhythm of her anxious heartbeat.

"I'm a tad bit nervous, I suppose," she supplied, her expression never wavering as she folded her hands neatly in her lap, ceasing their movements.

"I don't see why."

She breathed in deeply but said nothing.

Luke sighed, standing from his chair. She couldn't help the shiver that trickled down her spine at the cold clang of the furniture scraping the marble floor.

It's a dance, she recalled, one foot in front of the other.

It's a minefield, they'd advised her, one misplaced step and you're dead, executed by guillotine

He took a graceful step in her direction, a perfect step, and she felt her heart race, speeding up to challenge the thoughts running anxiously through her head. He ran his fingers along the seam of the table, tracing the timbered veins as he slowly made his way over to her.

"I know," he began smoothly, licking his lips as he paused briefly. "That this marriage will be very advantageous for both you and your family."

Another step.

"Of course," Annabeth nodded. "your majesty," she added silkily and felt lighter at the resultant curve of his lips.

"A crown, a throne, a nation at your feet is not enough then," he accused, his tone light but his eyes flashing with a dark edge.

Another tread.

"Not at all," the blonde assured him, treading carefully. "You misjudge my willingness to marry as a power grab. I, rather, seek adoration."

"You wish me to bow at your feet?" he questioned, eyeing her with amusement.

A stride this time.

"Perhaps," she allowed, tilting her head back slightly as he nears, meeting his eyes with a fire she hopes to the Gods will do the job. "Or perhaps I simply know that a man of your stature will only be satisfied with the best of the best." He narrowed his eyes, clearly intrigued.

Good, she thought.

"Or did you have other reservations in accepting Lady Catherine?" she posed. She knew it was a risk, to challenge a prince, to challenge him.

"And you're the best of the best," he countered, coming to a clean stop before her chair.

"Undoubtedly," she replied confidently, her own voice impressing her.

Luke watched her, seemingly impressed before chuckling. "And your loyalty?"

"Lies with my husband," Annabeth answered easily. "No one else."

"Hm," the young man hums thoughtfully. His fingers slid off the end of the table, lingering acutely close to her bodice.

She inhaled shallowly, hyperaware of the movement of her chest as it rose and fell.

OoOoO

He stole the breath from her lungs with his words. His touch made her blood pulse rapidly through her veins, sending her heart into a frenzy. It was as fairytales had promised. As she had wished, had long hope for it to be, so why did it only bring her dread now?

Still, it was as her advisors had expressed. She supposed it was her own naive misconceptions of marriage that had allowed her to believe such a farce.

"I would have believed you more attentive to your husband's needs, to your king's needs."

"You get ahead of yourself, your majesty," Annabeth schooled her expression, presenting a facade of innocence, discouraging any inkling of animosity. "Your father has yet to declare your rightful position and our ceremony is still weeks away."

"We could marry tomorrow if you wished it," he stated decidedly, asking with a look. "If I wished it."

"My love," Annabeth sighed, putting down her book in order to speak to him. "Surely you realize what a political fiasco that would be. A prince and duchess eloping would be a scandal even your own father couldn't quiet."

"I suppose," he agreed stiffly.

"Besides," the blonde added, catching his gaze from beneath her lashes. "You and I both know such a ceremony would be disgraceful for a prince of your caliber."

"You will never disappoint me, Lady Chase," Luke assured her, stepping languidly behind her chair, seemingly mollified by her false admission. He placed his hands n her shoulders, pinning her in her seated position. "You will never betray me."

Annabeth's mouth went dry. She wondered if he knew and wishes, prayed, pleaded with her shoulders not to show signs of distress.

"Would you, my love?" he queried, lowering his lips to her ear.

"Never," Annabeth promised, dread curling around her lungs, threatening her air. "Whatever would compel you to ask such a question of me?"

"Whispers," he answered softly. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Surely you don't believe such ludicrous accusations," Annabeth insisted, feeling powerless for the first time since their courtship began.

"Of course, not," he said evenly, his lips unpleasantly curled at the corners.

OoOoO

There was a fortnight until the ceremony now, but she no longer denied him. Not after that night.

Learn or die, they'd told her. She decided she preferred the prior. She'd always been good at learning anyway.

"Men will fall to their knees before you," he assured her as his lips traversed her collarbone.

"Again," she muttered, leaning into his hands.

"They will worship you as their rightful queen," Luke pressed into her throat. "Men will go to war for you, live for you, die for you, whisper our names with their final breath."

Power, she pondered in moments like these, was the wine of the men. They drank until drunk, dizzy on the possibilities, only to find themselves lost when the sun rose.

It was man's job, after all, to drown himself in wine, believing it ambrosia. And a woman's to stand by his side, only exposing her corruptable palate to the finest of spirits.

Power, she remembered, was never something she had desired. She had learned, though. She was no longer naive. She knew she needed it, regardless of inclination. It was a survival tactic if nothing else.

"You never disappoint me, Lady Chase," Luke murmured as he stroked the soft skin of her thigh, believing them words of reverence, of true and utter devotion. "You always satisfy."

"It is my duty," Annabeth remarked coyly, a coquettish flutter of her eyelashes accompanying her words.

He laughed, the sound reverberating low in his throat.

She smiled warmly, innocuous eyes shining, before smothering the expression into the curve of his shoulder. She waited until his breath evened and his chest rose steadily before pulling herself from his arms and padding quietly to sit at her vanity.

He had slipped into her chambers, as he had before. He had startled her, catching her in her slip.

Annabeth stared at herself in her mirror and her reflection stared back. Her eyes raked her appearance, searching for imperfection or injury. Her gaze couldn't help but linger on the marks that decorated her neck, or perhaps they tarnished it depending on one's view.

Annabeth pushed aside a curtain of curls, permitting herself closer inspection. They were bruises, their origins mixed. Different occasions with different outcomes. One before she'd learned, one after. She let her hair fall back down, hiding the spots of darkness.

If love existed, this definitely wasn't it. She did not love him, but, then again, she had never expected to. Her duty to her family, to her friends, to her people, had robbed her of any chance of romance. Though she strongly suspected the notion had been stolen much earlier, her birth to be specific. The defining moment of her life, the discovery that her parents beloved firstborn was not what they had hoped.

She did not love him, but he could give her what she wanted, what they needed. And that was her duty, her birthright, it was all she'd been raised to accomplish.

And accomplish it she would.

OoOoO

There were only days until they were to be married, until she would become proper royalty in the eyes of the court, a force in the eyes of the privy council, sacred in the eyes of the people, and subservient to her husband.

She could have, would have gained so much, but not without loss.

She'd never find out just how much. Perhaps it's better she never did.

"Oh, Annie," he sang mockingly, his tone shooting daggers. "You are not only a staggering beauty but an astonishing spirit as well."

"Luke," he had requested she refer to him as such, "what has brought on such a flattering declaration?"

"You promised me loyalty once," he sidestepped the question. "You gave me your word." His eyes shot up to hers, a blue so sharp it stunned her momentarily. "What is the value of your word, Lady Chase?"

"It is invaluable," Annabeth assured him, her nails digging discretely into the skin of her palm, scratching up her skin like soap from a bar. "Though I do not remember promising you loyalty, but rather my husband loyalty."

It was a mistake. She knew the second the words escaped her lips.

"And what does that make me then?!" Luke boomed, taking a menacing step towards her. She wasn't used to this type of anger, this outrage. His irises blazed with a cold fire she had never seen.

"My prince," Annabeth placated him, "my king to be." She stood and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, it seemed to work as his body relaxed. "Any act against you, against your future reign or your father's reign would be treasonous."

"Treasonous, indeed," Luke agreed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he glanced at her a second time, his gaze had softened and his harsh line of his lips had calmed. "You love me, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Say it," he commanded. "I want to hear it out loud."

"I love you."

It was sad, she thought afterward as she was being carried away, how little the words meant to her, even if they were based on a naive notion of affection she had been forced to abandon years ago.

"You shall be my queen," he stated soundly, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and holding her in front of him. "You and I shall reign Kriophoros together and bring about the strongest empire the land has ever seen."

"Yes," she agreed, unable to stop the euphoric glow at the vision of a crown, heavy and gold on her head. Perhaps even a scepter and an orb if everything occurred as planned.

"You shall be mine." His grip on her shoulders tightened, his fingertips digging into her delicate skin. "You will be mine and mine alone. Others will live for you but you will live for me. You will never think to betray me, never consider a treasonous act at even a basal degree."

"Yes," Annabeth urged, silencing his thoughts forcefully as she captured his mouth with hers, stealing his breath with a movement of her tongue.

OoOoO

The ceremony was but a night away, barely 12 hours standing between her and her goal. Well, not her end goal by any means but a significant moment nonetheless.

"Yes, Luke."

"Good. I'm pleased with your… newly accommodating demeanor," he sneered, satisfied with her answer, oblivious to the bitter undertone that scraped her words, the tinge of iron on the tip of her tongue. "Now go," he commanded after a few seconds of silence. "Return to your quarters. I have work to do."

Annabeth nodded obediently and stood. She curtsied and left the room as quickly as she could without her movements appearing out of the ordinary.

Annabeth quietly closed the large doors behind her and flattened her back against one of the long boards of wood. She forced herself to swallow a deep breath, shaking at the shallow feeling of panic spreading throughout her chest.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She had done everything right. She had danced like a goddess, every footstep careful and precise.

Annabeth felt her eyes burn with unshed tears but blinked them back, knowing perfectly well she was years past crying. The tears didn't make a difference anyway. They had never achieved her anything, not then, not now.

The blonde heard a shrill voice echo through the corridor and immediately stepped away from the doors, clearing her expression of any trace of dismay.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Rebecca, the Lady Luke had assigned to assist her, questioned in a tight voice.

"Yes," Annabeth answered, shooting the servant a charming smile, though her eyes still shone with the remnants of her lapse of control. "I find myself desiring a breath of fresh air."

"Shall I escort you to the gardens?" the maid offered politely.

"Please," Annabeth agreed, wondering if the stiff woman was simply acting out of discretion or if she had truly failed to witness her outburst.

The Lady spun on her heel, oblivious to her internal dialogue, and led her away from yet another room her fiance had managed to taint with dark memories.

Annabeth gracefully followed, ghosting her fingertips over the skirt that covered her hip, allowing the reminder to calm her, to embolden her, to propel her forward with an air of dignity reserved only for those appointed by the Gods themselves.

She and the maid spent almost ten minutes navigating through the complex hallways and elaborate stairways of the castle before they reached the ornate door leading to the gardens. Despite the trek, Lady Rebecca made no attempt at conversation, instead watching the blonde with a cautious eye.

Annabeth wondered if she was fearful. It was the blonde's duty to appear intimidating and grand, to walk, speak, and act with condescension, after all. Still, sometimes the princess-to-be found herself seeking companionship. She didn't need someone to worship, to love, to even like. She only sought someone to trust, to share an ounce of the burden berthed decidedly on her shoulders.

"Lady Chase," Rebecca said, catching the blonde's attention. Her lady in waiting was holding open the door, waiting for her to pass.

"Thank you," Annabeth murmured with a nod as the crossed the threshold. She couldn't help the sigh of calm that trickled from her lips at the sight. The rows of greenery that expanded past her line of her sight were rustling softly in the wind. She felt a similar breeze wash over her, some of her tension washing away with it.

The blonde took a step into the garden, her gaze lingering on the pristine cut bushes and the spottles beds of tulips. She resisted the urge to run her fingers along the leaves, to leave forward and reacquainted herself with the smell of sweet nectar. Instead, she stood, poised, beautiful, and cold, and watched from afar as the leaves shivered at a sharp gust and the blossoms bled their sweetness.

The antithetical worlds that existed within the realm had always struck her, even back then, before the madness.

The world she remembered, the one she lived for, had always been riddled with chaos and the dangers that resulted from it. Despite the circumstances, however, warmth and comradery had somehow still pulsed strongly in the veins of Atlantides' citizens. That had been years ago, though. She worried now, having been gone for so long, that it might have faded, that she might be fighting for nothing.

Behind the wall, in the castle, everything was immaculate. Stiff superiority was inscribed into the very walls of the building the way it had been the people. She swallowed, wondering if her brothers would recognize her after this all. This world had been her life for so long, old memories were becoming legends, mythic stories told in passing, slipping off the tongue as fine delusions of fantasy reserved only for children.

She had learned to dance so long ago, she wondered if she would ever be able to saunter again.

Annabeth trod down the path, careful not to trip on the skirt of her gown as she made her way to the cliffside overlook. She had only taken four steps when a small weed growing between the roses caught her eye. She halted her movements, pausing momentarily to gaze at it.

It had always been the weeds - the golden dandelions and long-stemmed poppies - the undesirables, who had impressed her the most. She supposed now, staring down at the tiny imperfection, that it had been their ferocity that stirred her, their utter ability to thrive despite the most unlikely of circumstances.

They're blemishes among a variety of jewels, Luke had told her once.

Hm, she had agreed with a docile hum of contentment.

Annabeth tipped her head back slightly, allowing her eyes to trace the clouds slowly drifting across the vivid blue sky - whose color could never be replicated, no matter what the royal seamstress insisted.

I shall have silk shipped in from Alania, he'd promised her after overhearing her request. He'd promised her land, riches, the entire world. His nobleman thought him incredibly generous, her ladies assumed he was wildly infatuated, but the blonde knew the truth. Sincerely, she suspected everyone knew at some subconscious level, that he was really arrogant, egotistical to a point of reckless grandeur.

But he had also promised her power, and though she could not quite pinpoint the source of his boon, she could just taste the intangible notion on the palette of her tongue. She could feel the intoxicating sting that drove men crazy just ghosting her fingertips, causing her frayed nerves to dance.

A breeze circled Annabeth's ankles, lightly flicking at the frills of her skirt, creating an illusion of flight.

It had taken her a bit to get used to the royal attire. It was tighter than she had been used to - the first time she'd worn a corset she'd nearly fainted - and she'd found the royal clothes also constricted her movement - far more than she had initially been comfortable with.

It had taken time, but she'd learned, like she always did.

She was the clever one, after all.

Annabeth allowed her chin to fall as she lowered her gaze, peering out over the garden. She proceeded to walk along the stone path until she was standing at the edge of the jagged stone overlooking the ocean. As she reached the edge of the overlook, she closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, a reminder of childhood, of something she would never get back.

Luke had once told her he didn't like the ocean. She had been confused as to why. She supposed he didn't like the lack of the control, she couldn't say she disagreed.

It's dirty, he had reasoned and never offered any other justification for the aversion.

Annabeth breathed in deeply once again, allowing the cool air spread into her lungs, filling them to the brim before she exhaled fully. She could still feel a cold spot on her collar where he'd sucked at her skin. It felt numb, both the area and the thought.

Another interesting development, Annabeth conceived.

It was as if her skin had been branded, she supposed it had in a way; everyone knew she belonged to him, more property than a human being. It would have made her angry, furious, under different circumstances, but in the current atmosphere, a momentary lack of autonomy seemed an easy price to pay.

Annabeth couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life with him. She supposed it wouldn't matter, though.

Her heartstrings twisted in apprehension, knotting together as if to protect the larger organ.

Soon, the kingdom would bow down before her, just as Luke had always described. The image made her blood rush and her heart pound. One day, she would be capable of destroying an entire kingdom and of similarly rebuilding it as she'd always hoped, as they'd promised.

It was all they wanted and soon it would all be beneath her fingertips. After her coronation, freedom would be theirs, be hers. A priorly unimaginable dream would become reality.

Annabeth opened her eyes and reached forward to wrap her finger around the intricately carved handles of the balcony, only brushing the gravity of her situation, of the careful line she was treading, the plank she was walking.

The blonde kept her eyes glued to the horizon and the glowing sunset before her.

In a few days, she would be the most powerful woman in the land. She should be honored the king's son had set his sights on her so young. It was what she had always wanted, wasn't it?

She took a deep breath and in the distance, she heard her maid shrieking.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and whipped around to face her, always overdramatic, lady in waiting. She felt her dress rustle around her ankles as she did. She threw her maid an annoyed look for having interrupted one of her few moments of peaceful pondering and was met with a pair of wide terrified eyes.

"Lady Chase!" Rebecca screamed and backed up into the stairs, tripping over the cobblestone steps.

"Yes?" Annabeth questioned, her voice laced with concern. While it was normal for her maid to scream a fair bit when a bee or squirrel came too close, the current display felt excessive.

"Pi - ruh," Her maid opened her mouth to speak but was unable to form words and instead just pointed somewhere behind the blonde. Annabeth turned swiftly on her heel, catching sight of the rapidly advancing figures before her. She barely had time to gasp before they had pulled a burlap sack over her head.

"Get off me!" Annabeth bellowed, flailing her limbs wildly.

She heard a groan and wasn't in the right mindstate to properly enjoy the satisfaction of kicking her abductor in the shin. She tried to repeat the movement but missed and felt a large pair of hands at her waist, lifting her up off the ground.

"Rebecca!" she yelled at her lady in waiting, hoping she was intelligent enough not to have stayed. "Do something! Call for his majesty!"

Annabeth felt a hand reach around, trying to muffle her screams with a palm.

"Call someone! Help! I'm - oomf," Annabeth's chest hit a hard curve that she could only assume was her captor's shoulder.

The blonde barely had time to register the man's overwhelming smell before she realized she was transported. She began bouncing up and down on her kidnapper's shoulder and her screaming increased exponentially with every tremor.

Sadly, her shrieks, though heard by many, did not inspire any brave individuals to intervene. If it hadn't been for the burlap sack covering her head they might have defended her but, to the locals, she was another spoiled royal being carried away by pirates. It was of no interest to them, no great loss.

If only they'd seen the mark on her hip.

So yes, I started another fic despite my promise not to. Oh well. Whatever. I promise I will get to Hotel Escape right after finals. It's almost done. They finish this week and my ee is due Monday so I should be pretty easy off after that.

Anyway, I am going to update this every week (on Thursdays). I already have ten written so that'll last me 2 ish months unless I get overly eager. But no, I have sworn to remain strong. I still have to go through and edit though because I wrote them a long while ago.

extra unnecessary info on the story that you are free to skip if you want to: This story is going to follow Annabeth and Percy and Piper and Jason over two parallel stories. It's going to be a pretty long fic. It will also feature a variety of PJO and HoO characters. It's kind of like a royalty/pirate combination fic and will take place in the mid-1500's but in a totally made up kingdom. The fic can get definitely dark at times and will be super angsty but whatevs, we're just gonna pull through despite.

Hope you guys like it!

iCiao!