A Crown of Golden Leaves
By xXTheDragonRiderXx
April 2015

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

"There are three constants in life: change, choice, and principles." – Stephen Covey

Caput XXI: The Principle of the Matter

"TO Bi-bli-o." *

"Yeah, that's it! Now write out na-ni*."

Percy watched Annabeth carefully etch the word in the sand, biting her bottom lip in concentration and muttering the alphabet under her breath in Greek. He looked at the water, then back at her again. He felt a smile tug at his lips at the glower on her face, like she was personally blaming the word for being hard to write. He glanced back at the water. She probably was.

Time for a little reflex training.

He slid into the tepid lake silently, not caring about the fact that he was fully clothed and went under. He kept his eyes open and his mouth shut and waited for a few minutes. He had learned a long time ago that he could hold his breath for an extraordinary amount of time; he never became wet if he didn't want to.

His lungs began to constrict. He began to count in his head to keep his mind away from the tightness in his chest. He had learned that it was harder to stay under longer that way.

"Percy?" a muffled voice called, and he swam up to the surface. He stepped onto the ground. "Where are yo—yack!" She squealed a little when he wrapped his arms around her, completely sodden with lake water. "Get off, you wet lump of—"

He tightened his arms around her and smiled against her shoulder. "That's not a very nice way to greet your husband, Annabeth."

"It's not very nice to get your wife soaking wet either. You're so lucky I decided to wear purple today, instead of white."

He paused for a moment. "What? Why?"

She rolled her head back against his shoulder, a disbelieving look in her eyes. "You don't know that you can see through white?"

Actually, he did, but he still didn't understand why— ... "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Now we're both wet and your pater wants us to dine with him this evening."

He stepped away from her, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed . . . and rather curious if he was honest with himself. What did she look like in soaking wet whites?

"Here, I can dry you off." He offered. Her face scrunched up a little as she turned around to look at him. He decided not to mention that only the back of her toga was wet. She wasn't really soaked.

"You can? How?"

"I'll show you." He smiled briefly, then closed his eyes to concentrate. He used to do this with Reyna and Rachel when they were children, but that had been years ago, long before he even developed feelings for Rachel. He hoped he still remembered how.

A familiar tugging in his gut wakened, and he opened his eyes imagining he was directing the presence over the wet spots. He imagined he was pulling the water over to him, pulling it off her toga and letting it go into the air with the moisture.

"How did you do that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder like she was trying to find left-over water. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't know. I just willed it away, I suppose." He suddenly felt defensive. "I've always been able to do it."

He shifted under her stare; he shouldn't have simpothned the water off her toga. He should have left it on. She must be thinking something along the lines that he was dangerous, that he needed to be locked up, like that man all those years ago, the one who had healed him after he got a concussion because he was riding a horse and the branch was just there . . .

Her hand was on his right cheek, and he found himself drawn into her eyes somehow. There had to be a explanation for this strange feeling, this need to be her close to her as much as possible. He'd never felt this way before, not even with Rachel.

Why did he just compare her to Rachel?

"Thank you," she said softly. Her lips brushed against his, and his gut did a weird flippity-flop thing. "For trusting me."

He tilted his head. He didn't exactly understand what she meant; after all he didn't really do much. Just dried her off, and that was his fault.

But then again, he really didn't flaunt these strange powers . . .

"Yeah, well. . . ." He shrugged. "You're welcome."

"Come on, let's go."

"Let us go," he corrected automatically. She rolled her eyes.

"Perseus, Annabeth." His pater greeted, not exactly cordial but not cold either. Percy nodded in acknowledgment, pushing back all his emotions except for cool indifference into a little dark corner of his mind. "You are late."

"Our apologies, pater," he said calmly as a slave pulled a seat for Annabeth to sit in, and another waited with his head bowed. "We were delayed upon coming here."

His pater nodded and sat at the head of the table. Percy sat next to him, nodding at the slave who pushed his chair in, and Annabeth sat on his side. The food came immediately, and his pater served himself without comment. Percy pulled a bit of stuffed flamingo and a chicken breast over on his plate.

There was a moment of silence.

"Next year will be another Census," his pater commented. Percy nodded and swallowed the chicken. "It would be beneficial for you to do this duty before you become Caesar, Perseus."

He hesitated. "I don't have any intention of becoming Caesar for at least another ten years, hopefully longer." He could have sworn his pater smiled at his words but that couldn't be true. He never smiled, at least not when they were with company.

"I know you don't, and I'm glad. However, my death is inevitable and I want you to be prepared. You're already a very good leader but there is still much you have to learn." Percy nodded and bit into a grape. He felt relieved, oddly enough.

"I still have a lot to learn."

His pater's eyes gleamed. "Indeed you do, especially as your wife is expecting."

Annabeth made a sound like a soft splutter, and he glanced at her. She placed the goblet down on the white tablecloth, the beads on her forehead jiggling with her sharp motion.

"Pardon?" She asked. He looked at his pater.

"Your wife has been eating much this evening; I remembered when your mater was carrying you she ate the same amount as she is." Annabeth pushed the plate of food away gingerly, looking like she was about to sick up. "I had begun to think she was barren as it's nearing five months since I told you my expectations during the Gladiators. I suppose it's all right if she's with child by the end of the year, even if he is not born yet."

Something exploded. Percy's head swiveled on its axis, and he caught Annabeth's wide-eyed stare ignoring his pater's alarmed shouting in the background. Then she went pale, and her eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me," she muttered, sitting up. "I'm feeling a bit nauseous suddenly. Thank you for your hospitality, Caesar." His pater nodded, and Percy stared at her retreating back. His gut churned and he wiped his hands against the table cloth. He turned to look at his pater immediately after she disappeared from his sight.

"I better make sure she's all right. She's been rather emotional lately."

His pater chuckled. "This is normal for the process Perseus, but go if it puts your mind at rest. I've forgotten how alike you and your mater were."

Percy smiled thinly and nodded his head then he stood and hurried out the door.

It took him far longer than he expected —or wanted— to find Annabeth. By the time he had found her curled under the archway where he had forced her to use as an obstacle course a few sunrises ago, he had felt that familiar flutter of panic in his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, voice hollow, as he slid down next to her. He cringed.

"I don't know. We didn't know each other well at first, and then I guess I sort of forgot after the Gladiators."

"Forgot. How do you forget having permission to just . . . have your way with your woman?"

He frowned, pretending that her words did not make him feel hurt. He'd never been that way. "I'm not that way, Annabeth. If I were, you would probably be with child by now."

She stiffened, then sighed and her head fell against her knees. "That was uncalled for."

"It was."

"Sorry." She pulled her head up but rested her chin on her knees. Her eyes were distant as she wrapped her arm around her torso in a protective gesture. "I do want to have children, Percy. But . . . I can't. Not now."

"Why not?" He asked, not angrily but curiously. He looked away from her and pulled one of his legs up against his chest. "I think it would be a natural transition—we're comfortable with each other."

"Yeah, but . . ." he glanced at her hands, which were playing with her robes. "I just . . . I can't." She closed her eyes. "I'm scared, all right?"

He stared at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, or do anything beyond your comfort level. If you're that worried, you can tie me up or—"

"It's not that I'm worried about. Isn't it some unspoken pact with you men that you can just . . . share?"

He suddenly felt like he'd stepped into a cool spot. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. "What in Tartarus gave you that idea? That's wrong. Gods, Annabeth—you're not a prostitute, and I'm not the type of man who just hands his wife over to some other man. And I've never believed in marrying more than one woman."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. He nodded then froze as a thought occured to him. Why did she have that idea in the first place . . . unless . . . she couldn't be, could she? No, that's impossible. Was it?

"Is there something you're not telling me, Annabeth?"

He could see goosebumps on her flesh. "Not in the way you're thinking." She answered after a few moments. He could see the tension in her shoulders. "I'm not a prostitute."

"Then why did you . . ." There was only one other explanation. "Wait, did someone rape you?"

She shook her head, but her eyes were bright and wet. "No. He didn't r-ra—that, he didn't hurt me. I managed to fend him off. That's why I started training. I can't let myself be taken advantage of. I won't. And I don't care what the other ladies say; I don't care if it's not proper."

Other ladies? He thought, then remembered the whispers that seemed to follow him whenever he was in court—though at least they had the decency not to say it to his face. Theories about Annabeth being barren. And if he could hear them, then what must it be like for Annabeth?

"Annabeth . . ."

She turned her head so that her cheek was resting on her knee and her countenance faced his. "Don't, Percy. I don't want your pity. I just want to forget that it almost happened and move on."

Somehow, as if he didn't have complete control of his movements, he nodded. "Okay."

He watched her breath fog in the air, and wrapped his arms over his bare shoulders. When did it get this cold? This really wasn't normal weather for Roma. . . . And how did he not notice it?

"It's cold," she stated. She sounded surprised. He nodded in agreement. "How did that happen? When I came out it was warm—and humid."

"I don't know . . . this isn't normal."

Her lips twitched. "Obviously."

"I... I didn't know."

"Obviously."

The memory popped into his mind and he almost smiled. He couldn't believe how much she had changed. Or maybe she had always been this way.

He stood; he would have offered a hand up, but she was already pushing herself off the ground. He figured she wouldn't appreciate his help, especially after the conversation they just had.

"And even if we started being intimate with each other, I won't start showing until Saturnalia at the earliest and your father will know something's up." She sounded a bit defensive and he looked at her.

"I'm not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. You're my friend before my wife, first and foremost, and I'm not going to do anything to shatter that." I'm not going to shatter this fragile bond of trust between us. I'm not a slave to my hormones.

"Gratias, Percy." He raised an eyebrow at the sudden switch from Greek to Latin. "You don't know what that means. And . . . I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We'll only do this when you're ready."

She looked away, a strange expression on her face. He didn't know what it was exactly. Contentment, surprise? Something else entirely?

Percy . . .

He turned around suddenly, looking into the night. What the . . . he knew someone had just called his name, but who was it? That voice was so familiar, like he had heard it in a dream. Or in a dream of a dream. Stranger things have happened.

Annabeth slowed to a halt.

"Percy? Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head, still staring into the gloom. "No. I just thought I heard someone say my name."

"Maybe it's the Wind Spirits," she said, tone contemplating. He met her eyes. "Who knows. Let us get back inside before we catch our deaths due to cold."

He smiled at the empathsis she put on the correct grammar and quickened his pace. "Yeah. Pater doesn't expect us back so we can retire to our chambers. I'm more tired than I am usually at this time."

Her eyes flashed—gratitude—and she smiled slightly. "I'm tired too."