A Crown of Golden Leaves
By xXTheDragonRiderXx
September 2014
Title: A Crown of Golden Leaves
Category: Het (Canon AU)
Characters/Pairings: Percy/Annabeth
Ratings/Warnings: T+/angst, major character death, violence, language, Romans, fluff, historical inaccuracies,
Tags: soulmates, good vs. evil, AU, Greco-Roman AU, omg what has this fic turned into?, truth and lies, light and darkness, right and wrong, destiny, arranged marriages, FLUFF, feelings, relationships,
Summary: Annabeth, a princess from the declining polis called Athens, must marry the Heir Apparent of Rome, Perseus, in order to save her country and the rapidly expanding world from a threat even the gods couldn't foresee.
PART I OF II: Where the Light Is
"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." -Nelson Mandela
Caput VII: The Slave Girl
"IT'S alright being scared... it's alright being scared... it's alright being scared..."
Percy climbed the stairs that went up to his... and Annabeth's chambers, her words echoing inside of his head.
"I know you're no coward..."
But he was a coward— she was the brave one, she had just displayed that when she started to speak out against Octavius like that. In fact, he should arrest her for treason against the Caesar, but for some reason, he just couldn't. He couldn't even summon more than a slight twinge of annoyance on his pater's behalf, and that almost made him feel scared for some reason. Not even Rachel could get away with talking like that against the Caesar, and he had loved her. A lot. But somehow, Annabeth could...
And he wasn't sure if that was because he was older then he was back then, or if it was something more.
"You're thinking again," a smooth voice spoke up, and Percy didn't even jump. He just plunged on ahead.
"Yes."
"That's dangerous."
Percy rolled his eyes, "Not particularly. I'm getting a cloak, Reyna. From my chambers." He added for good measure, finally glancing at the brunette. "And I'm pretty sure you don't need to guard me in my own resting place."
She smirked, "Why I wasn't even thinking about guarding you. I just wanted to go on a pleasant stroll with one of my closest friends."
He arched an eyebrow, "No, you would go on a pleasant stroll with Jason. You just tag along so you can taunt me."
Reyna shrugged, looking unconcerned. "Guilty. But you already knew that." Percy struggled with his temper for a moment, and she added on, "So, why are you going back to your chambers?"
"Annabeth."
Her expression turned sage, "Ah. What did she do?"
"...she taunted me."
His friend laughed, abandoning all attempts at looking wise. Percy looked at the ceiling and nodded his head from side to side, waiting for her laughter to die down.
"She's getting to know you well, Percy. Attacking your pride, that's a strategy Lady Minerva would be proud of."
Percy sighed, and interlocked his fingers behind his head, dropping all royal protocol. It wasn't like anyone could see them. "I think she's a demigod, actually. No normal mortal would have eyes like hers. They're rather captivating... and scary."
(If Percy happened to look at Reyna, he would see that her eyebrow had shot up, before her lips curled up into a sly smile, although there was also a softer emotion in her eyes. But he didn't look at her, so he didn't know.)
"She's quite pretty."
He nodded without thinking, "Gorgeous, actually."
"And she's going to be more than a capable queen when she's Caesar at your side."
"Oh yes."
Rachel smiled a little, "It's nice to see you finally beginning to move on after Rachel." Then her eyes got that hint of sadness, and Percy looked away.
"I don't know I would say that, Reyna. I definitely don't feel the way for her I did for Rachel."
Reyna's gaze fell to the ground. "Maybe you'll be surprised, Percy."
Percy's eyebrows furrowed together as that protective instinct kicked in. Why did she look so sad? "What's wrong? Did Jason say or do something stupid again? Do I need to punch him?"
She looked up quickly, like she was surprised, then laughed slightly, "Nothing's wrong between me and Jason. We're just busier than usual, and I can take care of myself. Besides, I don't want to come between your friendship."
He smiled slightly, the layer of toughness softening, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about that, Rey-Rey. You're like the annoying older sister I've never had, and I'm not afraid to beat Jason up if he hurts you or something."
"You're being overprotective as always." She rolled her eyes, then smiled, her expression softening. "Thanks for the gesture though, Percy. I'll leave you to get that cloak."
Percy blinked as she walked away from him. How did she always know what he was planning to do?
He shook his head; it didn't matter. Reyna would always be Reyna.
He opened the door to his chambers and dug around the chaos that he called home (it was not his fault, it just, happened...), throwing clothes over his head, looking for the right article of clothing he needed for super-duper-sneaky-stealth-mission-number-five-thousand-and-fifty-seven.
"Yes!" Percy shouted happily, and pulled the plain brown cotton out of the bottom of his chest. It was the only thing he owned that came from the peasants, and his pater didn't know about it.
He pulled the comfortable material up to his cheek and nodded against it. He grinned like a maniac for a moment, and then he draped it over his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Percy pulled his hood up and glanced in the mirror. The ridiculous grin he would never wear if someone else was around worked its way back on his face when he noticed he looked super mysterious. No, really. His face was covered in shadows and people would only know he was tall.
He even did a little dance as he walked out the door.
...And then he began walking, and walking, and walking. He tried to count his steps, but lost count somewhere after three thousand.
...And then he was standing in front of the doors to where the slaves were held, and Percy rested his hand against them. He swallowed a lump in his throat back. He had never been here before—his pater forbade him, so why was he doing this just because he felt like he had something to prove to Annabeth? It wasn't like he owed her anything—it was probably the other way around. So why was he going against direct orders like this? And on her account too.
Perhaps that rebellious streak he had when he was younger was coming back, the one he had before his mater died when she was returning from a visit from Sparta.
He shook his head and began to turn away. This was madness, absolute madness. He shouldn't be doing this—and his pater would throw a fit if—no, when he found out.
You're no coward.
Percy clenched his jaw as Annabeth's voice echoed in his head. He was; he was a coward. He wasn't brave like Jason or Reyna or Frank or Hazel—he wasn't brave like she was. He was a coward. His pater said so.
It's alright to be scared... all that matters is that you don't give into that fear...
He was only using common sense...
But, his feet were moving like they had a will of their own, and his hand was pressing against the door. Percy gritted his teeth, it was just a door. Besides, he was the Heir Apparent. Why on Earth should he be denied access to something that would be rightfully his one day?
But, he couldn't...
Can't, or won't?
...What in Tartarus had he signed himself up for when he married her?
He pushed the door open.
The first thing that hit him was the stench.
Percy gagged and he reached up, his eyes watering slightly as he plugged his nose. Gods, no human could live in this place, slave or not. It wasn't right.
"Who goes there?" a hoarse voice asked, and then a spear was shoved under his nose. Percy went cross-eyed trying to keep it in view. "The Caesar ain't allowin' peasants here."
Percy coughed and unplugged his nose. Somehow, he even heroically stopped himself from gagging at the smell of urine and bad milk. And horse dung. And rotten eggs... especially the rotten eggs. And yes, he did know what those smell like—it was an accident.
"Apologies, my good sir, I don't believe you recognize me." He said, automatically reverting to his formal way of speech.
The guard raised an eyebrow, and Percy swallowed. He should turn back; it was obvious that this person would tell his pater he was here. In fact, the Caesar will probably go on a rampage when he finds out someone was here in the first place... He shouldn't have come; the populus will probably get in trouble for something he did. Again.
"Lord Perseus?" a soft, croaky voice suddenly came from in front of Percy, and he looked over the guard's shoulder. A man stood in the bars, reaching out toward him. His hair was white and thin, and his clothes looked more like a sack of rags than anything. "Is that you?"
Percy took a step closer to the man, cautiously, in case he was about to attack. His hand automatically rested on the hilt of his sword.
"Yes."
The man had tears in his eyes as he reached out, as if he was trying to touch him. Percy took a step back.
"Bless my soul... lad, you've grown so much."
Percy blinked, "Do I know you?"
"Wait, are you the Heir Apparent?" the guard's eyes were wide when Percy looked back at him. He grimaced—he had been discovered— and knocked his hood off. The guard's eyes went wide and he fell on his hands and knees. His forehead literally touched the floor.
"Forgive me, my liege. I didn't know it was you. I ain't meaning harm."
A small part wanted to let the man panic, but another part —the one that sounded suspiciously like Reyna and Hazel— was telling him to stop being a bully.
But, there was one other part that sounded just a tiny bit like something Annabeth would say... though that could just be him. He was a genius after all.
(When Jason found out about that later, he would say, "In your dreams, Percy...")
"I won't take offense this one time, so long word does not get out that I was here."
The guard nodded so fast that it looked like his head was about to fall off his shoulders. He actually hit the floor once, too. "Of course, sire. I would never tell anyone, your highness. Of course not, my lord."
Percy rolled his eyes since the man was still practically kissing the ground. Maybe he was. Bootlickers, the lot of them. That was the reason why he put up with Grover—at least thefaun (satyr, whatever) didn't make a fool out of himself. Even though he had an unhealthy love of pulling practical jokes...
"...your mother would be so proud..."
Percy spun around at that little sentence and the speed of his heart sped up. He should have been listening to this person—he wouldn't have been wasting his time and patience. The slave (prisoner?) was staring at him with round eyes.
"What do you know of my mater?" he asked, that familiar desperation surging through him as he thought of the woman he could not remember.
"She was wonderful, so kind." he wiped a tear from his eye, "Your father loved her so much, it was clear every time he looked at her."
He frowned. Odd, pater always has contempt on his face when he talks of mater...
"She was a wonderful Lady, and I was proud to have served her..."
"Ignore him, Heir Apparent. He's one of those mad barbarians—the Graecus. Uncivilized, the lot of them. And we get so many coming from the war."
"What?" Percy interrupted, "What war?" He paused, and added for good measure, "You're also instigating my wife is a barbarian."
It was odd how easy the word came to him now...
The guard's eyes went wide. "You don't know?"
Percy was barely able to stop himself from looking at the dingy ceiling. "Of course not," he snapped. "Otherwise I would not ask." The guard winced, but Percy ignored him. "This war?"
"Ya don' kna' 'bout the Macedonian 'ispute, or the Spart'n one?"
"Sparta!" He nearly yelped. His mater was from Sparta. In fact, he had been born in Sparta during one of his mater's trips, though he hadn't been there since. He paused. "Macedonia?" he was pretty sure he had heard the name before, but he had no idea where...
The guard nodded, shifting closer to him. Percy stepped away discreetly.
"It's a province a little Eas' of we, on the other side o' the Mare Nostrum—the whole lo' of 'em are Barbarians."
He shot him a look of disapproval, but he decided that he could figure out what these 'disputes' where about later. There was someone he had to talk to.
"Where is the slave girl?" he asked, "The one who fought in the Gladiators."
"That tiny little thing? She's four cells down, on the right. Just a warning though, she's got spirit, even if you intend to break her. Pretty little thing too..."
He managed to stop himself from throwing up as he realized what the man was implying, and began the walk, holding his shoulders back, the way his pater had taught him.
He wasn't how long it took him either, perhaps it was candlewicks, or heartbeats, but he was somehow standing in front of the girl's cell. He couldn't help but think she didn't look very 'spirited', with her head hanging down and hugging her legs. In fact, Percy thought she was crying.
But then she looked up, and he stopped.
Those weren't the eyes of someone who had given up—those were the eyes of a warrior, a hero. Those were the eyes of a seasoned veteran coming back from the Syrian Wars.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "I swear to Hades, if you're going to attempt to drag me off to another bloody battle..."
Percy almost smiled.
"No, actually. I'm not."
She raised an eyebrow, "Well then, sire, are you just here to waste my last moments on this earth being annoyed at you, or is there another reason?"
"I'll admit it; annoying you is rather tempting, but no. I don't have the time to do that. My wife noticed you in the arena, you may know of her. Her name is Annabeth; Princess Annabeth of Greece."
The girl turned an interesting shade close to the color of parchment. "I know her," she said softly. "We used to play together when we were girls."
Percy hoped he hid his surprise well. Maybe that saying was right: it's a small world. "You did?"
She smiled ruefully, though her gaze was unfocused. "It was a long time ago. I doubt she'd recognize me."
"You don't know that; she may have subconsciously. She sent me here to talk to you."
She looked at him, but while her gaze was as piercing as Annabeth's, it wasn't hostile. "What are you doing here, seeing a lowly slave like me?"
"Curiosity," he admitted, shrugging. "And as I said, Annabeth sent me here. What are you doing here, as a lowly slave? You speak Latin well. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were an aristocrat in disguise."
The girl rubbed the back of her head, "I was stupid, actually. Our village was burning due to slavers setting it alight, and I ran right into them. At least my brother got away."
Percy frowned slightly, "That's not stupid. You were afraid, and you didn't know what was going on."
She smiled ruefully, "It doesn't matter anymore. It's been years and I've lived this long, though I suppose this is the end of the line for me." She sighed and tilted her head back, so that she looked at the ceiling. For some reason, Percy couldn't stop looking at the way her long dark hair pooled over her shoulders. "My only regret is that I never got to tell him sorry."
"I don't think you've got anything to be sorry for." She rolled her head, and Percy's throat suddenly felt rather dry. "You were protecting him, and that is all that matters."
She shrugged slightly, as if she didn't really believe him, and changed the subject. "You're different from your father."
Percy shrugged in the same manner she had. "I don't know."
She turned so she was facing him. "No, really. Octavius wouldn't give a rat's nest over a slave like me—I bet he sees us as some kind of horse. Useful when we work, but otherwise useless."
"That's not true..." Percy said in automatically, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears. The girl regarded him sadly.
"You don't really believe yourself, do you?" Percy only looked away, and she let out a breathy sigh. "You've got the potential to be a great leader, Perseus. Perhaps the greatest. But you're blinded by your love to your father—you can't see your people are suffering. You can't see that things have to be changed."
Percy stood up abruptly and he began to walk away. He was about to throw something—he knew it. That white hot feeling in the center of his chest was burning again and—
A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. It was like he had been glued to the spot.
He looked at the girl, his heart beating like crazy. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, like she was thinking. He wondered if they were good thoughts.
"Do you want your people to be terrified of you? Do you want mindless minions rather than friends? A kingdom... is not a kingdom without its people. A king isn't a king without his people, just like the people are not a people without their king. You need each other to exist. Because, one day, Rome will fall, just like Greece and Egypt. And would you rather it remembered a great kingdom with a happy population? Or do you want it to be a place remembered in mankind's darkest memory, like the bogey man?" She removed her hand, but Percy remained rooted to the spot. He couldn't look away from her eyes.
Her features softened a little. "Is this really the way you want to rule this land, Perseus?"