I was lying in bed one day when I thought of the idea for this. Lately, I've gotten into watching the TV series Once Upon A Time. I've only watched the first two seasons on Netflix, but I have to admit there is something addictive about the show even though they've messed with every single fairy tale alive. Even though my heart lies with Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D and of course, Percy Jackson. But yeah, I just wanted to get that out.

Everybody knew the story.

Cinderella. How she rose from poverty to riches in all but a night. This all in the name of true love. Everybody knew how Cinderella's fairy godmother showed up (picking that very night) and waved her magic wand, whisking Cinderella off to the ball of her dreams in disguise. And how it all crashed the moment the clock struck midnight. Cinderella escaped, leaving only a shoe behind for Charming. Everybody knew how he scoured the kingdom for her, knowing her true identity by the dainty fit of a slipper. Made for a fantastic story. Agreed.

Annabeth Chase, on the other hand, knew better. She knew what life was really like. Now, any normal person might have expected her to claim that life wasn't a fairy tale, there were no such things as happy endings, or something else like that. But no. Annabeth knew better than that. In her mind, if there could be gods and magic, there could be anything else. (Heck, there could even be Romans.)

Lately, everybody had been calling her a stupid nickname. All around camp. It had just been some vain Aphrodite girl at first, but then the Ares kids picked it up, and it spread to all of camp. Her friends weren't calling her that (aside from Clarisse who'd always called her princess), but Annabeth knew they'd catch on soon.

Want to know what it was? Are you all dying of thirst yet? Does it burn you not to know the secret? Well, it was no secret: that was why it was going all around camp. But, still aside from all the theatrics, it wasn't very grand at all.

It was Cinderella.

It was frivolously ridiculous. And it made no sense whatsoever. Annabeth had just came back to her cabin after a round of Ancient Greek (she was very fluent now), and had heard a couple kids whispering about her. Annabeth wasn't really one to get all down just because some people said stuff about her, but for some reason this stung more. She tossed aside the door, and flopped onto her bed. Her heart sank like the anchor of a ship. Everything was untouched, something which Annabeth was grateful for because she didn't like people messing with her stuff.

Annabeth sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She put her face in her hands.

Honestly, Annabeth couldn't expect to be called something more realistic than that? Seriously, what did they see in her to make her be called this abhorrent nickname?

Think, Chase, think.

Annabeth had a stepmother and two stepsiblings (she wasn't ready to call her brothers girls just yet) and a father. Her mother was absent from her life— well, that portion of her life— and she had a boyfriend. A wonderfully caring boyfriend, but a boyfriend nonetheless.

Her stepmother was not evil. She was just mortal. Annabeth had figured out that part a long time ago, when she'd poked her with a silver fork. (Annabeth hadn't had any spare celestial bronze back then.) Besides, Annabeth never liked any of those brands. How could you call any single person completely totally evil? It was like jailing a person for life because of something they might do. Good and bad made for nice titles at least in your head, but they just messed with reputations and impressions of people. And even Annabeth wasn't a goody-goody all the time. The Devil made her do stuff just as well.

And her brothers were complete angels. (In the eyes of Annabeth's stepmother, angels squared.) How could they be evil? All they ever did was play with their cars and go to school. They were good little boys. Perfect, even. How could they be evil?

And her father. Sure, he tried his best. But come on, at the end of the day, he too was still mortal. Mortal didn't mean evil. And despite all the differences Annabeth had with her stepmother, her stepbrothers, and father, they all still comprised her family. They were her family, thick and thin.

Annabeth wasn't going to abandon them that easily. Not like Cinderella did, running off after her true love. Which so conveniently happened to be the Prince of the Kingdom and the richest guy in town.

And then there was that issue. Her boyfriend/true love/pain-in-the- Okay. Get a hold. It seemed that even being Annabeth's boyfriend didn't save you from her wrath.

That's the part that always ticked her off. What did people think of her? It wasn't just some fluke, getting Percy to like her. That boy was the slowest-minded cretin ever. And he hadn't even been the one to ask her out. She was the one who'd practically asked him out, kissed him, and then initiated their whole relationship. That hadn't been some random dance at a ball. That hadn't been a simple wave of the wand (although Aphrodite likes to claim credit). That hadn't been destroyed with the turn of a clock hand.

What did the world think of her? Did the whole entire world only merit Annabeth as a pretty girl in a dress who charmed her way into a boy's heart?

Nah. Impossible. Annabeth hadn't even worn a dress in front of Percy, much less charmed her way into—

Oh, goodness. She was brainwashing herself into this as well.

The point was that Annabeth was no phony. She'd worked hard to build her life. She was a demigod. Even if life was terrible, she struggled through. She would never just break down and cry. That just wasted time running away from monsters. That was the reason she ran away all those years ago. It might have only been 10 years since then, but that Annabeth was very different the Annabeth she was today. Annabeth had changed definitely. It was like she'd been hardened out from the inside, and there was no room left for tears. Tears would just hold her down.

See, Cinderella wasn't like that. What was the worst thing she'd dealt with while at home? Oh, right. Chores.

I hate to break it to you, lady, but everybody deals with chores. Annabeth could just imagine herself giving Cinderella a piece of her mind. Why was imagining this easier than actually accepting the nickname?

Cinderella didn't have it hard at all. She knew her big break was coming. She had it coming for years. Annabeth lived the true life of a demigod. She lived each moment like it was her last. A demigod never knew whether they'd be grounded today or gone the next. (How tragic would it be if Percy kissed her goodnight and then went missing the very next day?)

Cinderella was a wuss. That was Annabeth's grand conclusion. Everything could conjecture to that. And, Annabeth realized, using this tidbit, she can prove that she couldn't be Cinderella because Annabeth was not a wuss. It was like the converse of the property: If A = B and A = C, then B = C.

Annabeth couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself. And this all just wasn't because she'd successfully (systematically) proven the nickname didn't suit her. That nickname was a load of baloney, and Cinderella had no business messing with Annabeth. Annabeth triumphed in the end, as she always did. And for that, she couldn't help but be proud.

Looking back, Annabeth had struggled to even read basic English letters. She hadn't even gotten a word of math. The dyslexia had screwed with everything. This was all before she'd discovered her brain was hardwired for a different language: Ancient Greek. To come from a point like that to a point like now where Annabeth was disproving everybody was very self-satisfactory.

Truly.

But for all that Annabeth had done with her life; she still hadn't achieved her happiness. Cinderella had in the end. It came in the form of her prince. Cinderella had ended up so content with her love that wrote it down in the books as 'Happily Ever After.' Why couldn't Annabeth get something like that?

Cinderella was happy. So why wasn't Annabeth?

Wait a minute. Annabeth, you dolt. You're brainwashing yourself again. You're brainwashing yourself into thinking you're jealous of Cinderella.

Jealous? Pah. Annabeth had boatloads of reasons as to why she wasn't jealous. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd listed a good number of them just now. But Annabeth couldn't be jealous. There was nothing to be jealous of, she thought loftily.

But are you just saying that because of your hubris?

Pride. Hmph. That's a very good excuse for downplaying Annabeth's—

Dang. She was doing it again, wasn't she?

Yes. Yes, you are.

Great. Just great. Now Annabeth was talking to herself.

You could have gone for fabulous and then complimented me, but yes go ahead.

Yup. This was her. No one else could be as self-fulfilled as her. Wow. Was this what Annabeth had been reduced to? Being jealous of Cinderella? What a pathetic waste of time.

But, what a brilliant motivator.

Think Annabeth's crazy yet? Hang in there.

Annabeth could always look for happiness wherever she went. She could look to stir happiness in others. Charity service or some volunteering. She could help out other key people in her life. She could help them be happy. She could bring happiness wherever she went, and in turn, create something like that for herself. Starting with her boyfriend, of course. He was a lost cause entirely.

She was never letting him go. No matter what Cinderella tried to do.

A sharp rap on the door broke Annabeth out of her reverie. Annabeth blinked, washing away all these scattered thoughts. She opened the door tiredly.

"You do know the door's unlocked, right?" she said automatically, not noticing who was waiting on the threshold.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Annabeth worked to fix her tangly hair. It was Percy, his face smiling and bright. His sea green eyes twinkled mischievously like they always did for her, and Annabeth couldn't help but acknowledge the topsy-turvy turning of her heart. It flopped like jelly, making Annabeth weak in the knees. She steadied herself by leaning on the door for support. "Hey," he said casually, running an anxious hand through his already rumpled hair.

"Hey," she tried again.

Ignoring her earlier outburst, he smirked. "How about you and I go for a picnic?" He held up the picnic basket in his hands like a peace offering.

Annabeth blinked. "Now?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Okay," said Annabeth suspiciously. "But I have to ask," she began, shutting the door behind her and embracing the cool September air, "what's your ulterior motive? Saucing me up for something you want?"

Percy chuckled as they walked. "Try trying to get on your good side. I haven't been very active in this relationship lately."

Annabeth's eyebrows shot up so fast she didn't even register that this was one of her reflexes.

"Or maybe I'm trying to be a good boyfriend," he said innocently.

"Trying being the key word."

"Clearly," he agreed.

"Okay. I believe you," Annabeth said solemly.

"Great," he breathed, sounding surprised even to Annabeth. How nervous could he be?

"Now what's in the basket of yours?" wondered Annabeth, slyly lifting up a corner of the basket top.

Percy batted her hand down quickly. "Grilled cheese?" he admitted with a wince.

Annabeth smirked. "That works."

"Great," he said awkwardly.

Oh, yeah. Annabeth was never letting him go. Take that, Cinderella.

Isn't Percy the best boyfriend ever? Review if you love Percabeth.