The Prince and the Pea
summary: Percy doesn't want to get married. Poseidon is crazy. Annabeth thinks this is all ridiculous. And Grover just wants a burrito. / Crack, AU & OOC.
a/n: ok i'm terrible at incorporating prompts and i listen to zero music so yeah.
When Percy Jackson turns fifteen, his father Poseidon takes him into the throne room and gives him The Talk. Percy has, of course, learned all this sex stuff years ago from his own friends, but his father looks so uncomfortable and squirmy that Percy lets him talk. It's hilarious. At least, until his father throws him the whammy.
"As heir to the almighty Atlantis Empire, we expect you to get married by the age of eighteen, which is why I'm telling you all this, son. You've got three years to, erm, prepare. I know it may be difficult to absorb all this... I know it is for me. Erm, was for me... uhhh, any questions?"
"I have to get married by eighteen?" Percy asks. It was legitimately the most stupid thing he had ever heard. And Percy had heard a lot of stupid things in his life. "What is this, the Dark Ages?"
Poseidon shrugs. "We are old money, the almighty Atlantis Empire. So yes, maybe we do follow some old rules. But they are rules."
Percy crosses his arms. "That's stupid." But as stubborn as Percy is, Poseidon is even more stubborn. So Percy does what every reasonable kid would: he pulls out the Mom Card. "What would Mom have to say about this?"
Poseidon glares. "Sally, of course, wants you to follow the rules - "
"She wants me to be happy, not follow some Dark Age rules!" Percy interrupts. He knows it's true. While his father can be a bit of a git sometimes, his mother is the sweetest soul alive.
His father turns around and storms out of his son's room. Percy smirks and leans against his bed. He knows he's won. For now, anyway.
.
Three days and many arguments later, he, his mother (who is, as Percy predicted, on his side), and his father reach a compromise. He doesn't have to get married by eighteen, thank God. But he does have to be "trying" to get married by eighteen.
"What does that mean, though?" Percy asks suspiciously.
"It just means you should be thinking about it," replies Sally.
Poseidon, however, hushes his wife and says, "It means that you should hold a large ball and contests! Why, that's always how a prince finds the perfect princess, traditionally."
Percy gapes. That was even more stupid than the concept of getting married by eighteen. "Okay, now I'm positive you're from the Dark Ages."
"We are old money, Percy, the almighty Atlantis Empire!" Poseidon repeats. And try as they might, Percy and Sally can't convince Poseidon to change his mind. Begrudgingly, Percy accepts the compromise. And then he leaves the room and forgets about it for three more years.
.
But then Percy turns eighteen, and he can't forget about it anymore.
"We must organize that contest," says Poseidon, rubbing his fingers. "And get you married, to expand the almighty Atlantis Empire!"
Percy rubbed his temples. "This is stupid."
"This is for the good of the almighty Atlantis Em - !" Poseidon insists.
"Okay, I'll do it!" Percy interrupts, if only to stop his father from uttering that phrase. God, it was so annoying. Not that he would say it out loud. ("There is no God, Percy, only the almighty Atlantis Empire! And it is not annoying, it is for the almighty Atlantis Empire!" Percy pictures his father saying in response.)
Poseidon beams, happy with his success. Meanwhile, Percy tries to devise some impossible contest. Something that will please his father and be easy to pull off. He doesn't want to spend his savings or anything. What do they have a lot of in the house? Percy thinks. Of course! Mattresses! They have loads and loads of mattresses. In his mind, he begins to form the perfect plan, the perfect contest that no girl will ever be able to win. It's also completely ridiculous, but that's kind of the point.
.
"This is completely ridiculous," Annabeth Chase complains as she treks through the woods with her best - well, kind of only - friend, Grover. Growing up, Annabeth's family moved around a lot, so she could never form consistent friendships. The fact that most people found her a bit intimidating wasn't much help either. But when she moved to the sleepy town of Half Blood, New York, a few months ago, she and Grover hit it off. Grover may have walked with a limp and had a strange love for burritos, but he was a good guy at heart.
"You're the one who said you were bored," Grover reminds her. "What can be more fun that doing something that involves free burritos? Look!" He waved the slightly crumpled flier in front of Annabeth's face.
"You know I can't read that, I'm dyslexic," she snaps, becoming even more irritated.
"Oh, right, sorry," says Grover apologetically. "It says, 'Come one, come all, to the center of the almighty Atlantis Empire. All are invited to come for a chance at winning the Prince's hand and free burritos.'"
"That can't be legitimate," Annabeth grumbles. "The Prince's hand? What is this, the seventeenth century? Go by yourself. There is no Prince, and even if there was, I wouldn't care for a chance at winning his hand."
"But free burritos, Annabeth!" Grover pleads. "And I don't want to go alone! It would be weird because, you know, I'm a dude and everything... Come on, free burritos. And you did say you were bored."
She sighs. Grover holds his breath, awaiting her response. "Only because I have nothing better to do this weekend, okay?" she finally says, her curiosity having won out. She didn't care about the Prince or whatever, but she did want to see what this was all about. "Let's go to the Atlantis Empire."
.
"Whoa, it's even bigger up close," says Grover in awe, staring at the tall silver tower. Everyone in Half Blood knows about the almighty Atlantis Empire building - sometimes referred to as the Castle. It's easily the largest structure in all of Half Blood. Then again, Half Blood is tiny.
"This is nothing," Annabeth says, having been to New York City and Los Angeles before. "I've seen bigger. This is the size of a Macy's in New York City."
"I've never actually been inside," whispers Grover, ignoring Annabeth. "Never had a need. Well, first time for everything. Come on, Annabeth, burritos await in the Castle! And your Prince."
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Annabeth complains. "There is no Prince! And this isn't a castle!"
.
"Do I have to stay here and watch the girls? None of them are perfect anyway," Percy complains. This was a nightmare. At first he'd thought his plan was perfect. But he didn't know that he'd actually have to proctor it! He's tired of shaking girls' hands and leading them to the mattresses and smiling and explaining their task and standing around and giving stickers. He checks his watch. 1:02 p.m. He'd been at this since 7. He seriously needs a break. And burritos. The burritos had been his mother's idea, something to lure in guests. Sadly, Percy hadn't been allowed to touch them since he himself wasn't a guest, according to his father.
Poseidon, who mistakes his son's boredom and hunger for disappointment, pats Percy's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find the perfect girl eventually. Yes, the one girl who is sensitive enough to feel a pea through twenty mattresses!"
Percy groans. This was going to be a long day. His father bounds off, headed towards the burrito stall where he's happily explaining to the girls that all they have to do is try out the mattress stack and tell Percy how they feel, and then they'll get a free burrito and a chance to win the Prince's hand. He inhales the scent of beef and cheese and tortillas, sizzling hot over embers, and stares longingly at the stand. A nightmare. This was a nightmare.
.
Poseidon drenches a burrito in his signature sauce before handing it off to the blonde girl in front of him. She dons a sticker that reads "tried," a symbol to let Poseidon know that she really has tried out the mattresses. He sighs to himself; he's yet to find anyone wearing a "passed" sticker, the symbol that will alert him that the person has passed the test and will become Percy's spouse. Yes...
"What about me?" the scrawny boy next to the blonde asks, snapping Poseidon out of his thoughts. "Can I get a burrito?"
"Show me your sticker," Poseidon says.
"I - but I'm not interested in marrying the Prince!"
"He's not a Prince!" Annabeth repeats. "This is a - "
"No sticker, no burrito," Poseidon interrupts. "Move it, kid. Next!"
Grover sadly shuffles away. Annabeth, meanwhile, chomps down on her burrito. It really was good. That Poseidon fellow might have been a bit antiquated and straight-laced, but he sure made a mean burrito. "Hey, get your own," Annabeth says, noticing Grover's side-eye. "It's not that hard. All you do is lie on the mattress stack and tell the guy how you feel. He won't even care that you're a dude, there were like three other guys before me."
Grover nods. "Alright then. For the burrito."
.
The guy proctoring the affair, the Prince, sounds and looks pitifully bored. "Okay, how do you feel?"
"I'm not even up here yet," says Grover. With his limp, climbing to the top of a stack of twenty mattresses is rather difficult.
"Right, right," says the Prince. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Grover," he replies, taking a small pause to catch his breath and trying not to think of how bizarre this is. He's at a competition to win the Prince's hand and climbing a stack of 20 mattresses. The things he did for burritos. "Grover Underwood. And I'm only here for the burritos. What's your name?"
"Perseus, although no one calls me that except my dad when he's angry or when he's trying to sound all royal and being all 'Prince Perseus.' I'm not even really a Prince! It's just Percy," the Prince - Percy -grumbles.
"Okay," Grover grunts, concentrating more on his climb. He's nearly at the top, and he can practically taste the burritos, yes, just one more step... when suddenly his foot slips and he tumbles down, down, down, this is it, the end, he's going to die and never have that burrito -
And then Percy catches him. "Hey," he says. "Careful there." Grover blushes.
"Tell you what," Percy decides. "I'll give you the sticker that says you passed so you can go get your burrito. On one condition: you give me half - "
"Deal," Grover interrupts, relieved that he won't have to climb the mattress stack after all.
"Wait, I wasn't done," says Percy, setting Grover down. "And you pay for our next date."
"What?"
Percy shrugs and hands him a sticker. It reads not "tried," but "passed." Grover opens his mouth and then closes it, his eyes wide and bugging out. "Oh, I don't - " he tries to say, but it comes out as some sort of strangled cry.
Percy laughs and slaps him on the back. "Calm down, I didn't mean it. Seriously, the look on your face!"
Grover gives in and laughs. "Hey, what was I really supposed to do to pass the so-called test anyway?" he asks.
"Feel a pea through twenty mattresses," Percy replies. "Ridiculous, right? But I thought it'd please my dad. He thinks I should be married by eighteen. He takes this heir to the 'almighty Atlantis Empire' way too seriously. For Christ's sake, we're a mattress company!"
"Hey, but for the burritos, right?" Grover says, smiling and feeling less stressed out. "I think, for our next date, I'm going to take you to my favorite burrito shop."
Percy grins, a lopsided, rather mischievous thing. "I look forward to it, Grover Underwood."
{END}
i'm very sorry i swear the fic wasn't originally supposed to be like that like what
if after you've read this you have no clue what just happened me too