A Crown of Golden Leaves
by theolims (xXTheDragonRider)
June 1, 2016

Taboo Subject Warning: Menstruating mention (like seriously, if I can write it then I'm pretty sure you can handle reading it – It's only a line). Smexy times ahead. Don't act like myself at twelve and read responsibly. I'm serious guys. Be responsible, please. Some of the things I'm writing about in this chapter disturbs me myself.

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 (I take this back - This is no longer fluffy this is spiraling downhill into the pit of angst and I have no regrets), 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 II OF II: Where the Shadows Go

"I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being." – Hafiz of Persia

Caput XXXVII: A Resolution of Sorts

ANNABETH woke slowly.

The first thing that caught her attention when she eventually opened her eyes was the white – A sheer, stark white. There was no yellow to offset it, or any other color, really. Instantly, she closed her eyes again – The white made them ache too much.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of disinfectant that didn't entirely hide the smell of death and decay. The platform she laid on wasn't comfortable – It was hard – and she didn't feel Percy's body heat near or pressed against her, trapping her within it like the cuddler she had come to realize he was.

Her back was aching from whatever she was resting on. She felt sticky. She groaned under her breath and forced her eyes to open for the second time, wanting to know more about where she was. And she couldn't do that if she was sleeping. (Her eyes were very sore too, now that she thought about it.)

It only took a few heartbeats for her to recognize the brown floorboards and the wooden tables that served as bed. Why am I in the infirmary? She sat up, and looked down at herself. She saw no visible wounds –

Wait. I didn't put this on earlier...?

"You're awake!" The sudden new voice startled her – it was silly to have thought she was the only one awake now, wasn't it? This was a sickbay after all – and she jerked her head up. She recognized that nurse, the one who had talked to her the night Percy had been flogged all those months ago. She'd been very warm back then . . . and her name was Meg? Meg smiled at her gently before she turned to the cupboards and placed the blankets in her arms in them.

For a moment, she didn't know if she should say something or if she should stay quiet. But there was a question burning at her, demanding her to ask it, and she was never able to learn when to not ask questions. But she waited a bit, to see if Meg would volunteer any information.

Meg was busy swiping the counters down, avoiding her eyes.

Something was wrong.

"Uh . . . is there any reason why I'm here? The last thing I remember is..." Walking with Piper and Jason? I'd felt dizzy and . . . and then something went wrong.

Meg wasn't smiling anymore. Her gaze fell to the ground. She chewed on her fingernail before she sat on the edge of the table. Annabeth curled her legs up to her chest to give her more room, but she did nothing.

"There is a reason," she said eventually, and continued no further. It looked like she was going to have to drag the truth out of her.

"And that reason is?" she asked slowly, tilting her head to the side. It had to be bad, if she didn't want to talk about it. But what could it possibly be? Were the late hours she spent training catching up to her? Had she caught a virus? What was it?

"I'm sorry."

Alarm bells began to go off in her head. She swallowed. "Meg," (she hoped that was her name) "There's nothing you should be sorry for."

Meg still wasn't looking at her. "You lost your child."

She froze. "Oh."

Automatically, her hand fell to her very flat stomach. What? But she... She wouldn't even be pregnant in the first place. That was just something Octavius Caesar had... But of course they wouldn't know. They had gone along with it. There was no reason why they wouldn't think she was pregnant. With everything that had happened, I'd forgotten that I'm supposed to be with child . . .

Meg was watching her with hawk like eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She was so confused. It was impossible for her to be pregnant. She was surprised that nobody had outed them yet— But wait . . . They would have told Percy. He'd be the first one to know . . .

"Percy," she breathed. Oh, no... "Does he know?"

Meg nodded slowly. "I don't think he knew how to process it. He came in and sat next to you yesterday evening, and then he left. Nobody's seen him since."

Oh, no no no. He must think I...

She felt sick to her stomach. I have to explain. Or try to, at least. I have no proof but... She shook her head. Her thoughts felt discombobulated. She couldn't help but feel a little relieved that she hadn't lost a child. If she had... She wasn't sure what she'd have done. Just the idea of losing a baby was enough to terrify her now – How much worse would she feel if she really had been pregnant?

Something told her she probably would have been inconsolable.

"Can I leave?" her voice cracked. That was perfectly reasonable. She wanted to see Percy and . . . She didn't know what. She probably wasn't thinking straight. "Please, I can't..." I can't stay here.

Meg hesitated. "Gaius wanted to observe you overnight."

"He can check up on me in the morning," she argued. The infirmary felt like it was closing in on her, trapping her within its walls. She wanted out. "I need to..." I need to see Percy.

She wasn't looking at her as she said, "Command me."

"What?"

"Command me to let you leave."

She grabbed the opportunity immediately, without hesitation. "Let me go. That's my command."

Meg slipped back into the shadows, disappearing from her sight like she had never even been there. That barely registered in her mind – She was completely focused on wriggling out from underneath the blankets and slipping into the pair of sandals that had been placed on the side of the cot. She thought they might have been Percy's – They were too large for her feet, and she recognized them – but she quickly lost the thought in the fog that was the state of her head right now. Like a ghost, she pulled a robe across her shoulders, her hair catching underneath the garment and she pulled it out automatically, and left the room, careful to not wake any of the other patients.

As distracted as she was, because she had to find Percy and try to explain, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the young woman who was thrashing in her bed, a low, pained moan coming from her throat. She avoided looking at the other occupants – There were many people here, too many – as she opened the door to the hallway and closed it behind her.

The outside was even quieter than the infirmary. Annabeth felt like she was the only person alive in that moment; all she could hear was the sound of her footsteps slapping quietly against the stone floors. There were no sentries posted which struck her as odd, but she pushed that into the back of her mind to puzzle over later. Her chest felt heavy and it was hard for her to breathe, but she was pretty sure that was just nervousness.

She hadn't felt this nervous in a long time. Not since the night they'd been married. Gods, it felt they had married a lifetime and a half ago already. She couldn't believe it hadn't been a year.

What was she going to tell him anyway? Hi, Percy. Look, I know you might think I slept with somebody else but I didn't. I'm not with child, never have been. Gaius was just wrong with his diagnosis. No, I don't have proof. You just have to trust me.

Yeah, right. That would go over well. She couldn't see him putting her head on the chopping block if he had a say in it, but infidelity was a crime punishable by death.

She was standing in front of their bedchambers before she had enough time to formulate her facts – Which were depressingly little – and she swallowed. Her mouth was dry. And her hands were sweating.

"Okay," she muttered to herself under her breath, pacing around the door. "You can do this, you can do this. You got this. Just go in there and say hey, Percy! I'm not with child! That'll be good. Uh-huh."

She stared at the foreboding doors that remained shut to the world.

Who was she kidding? She can't do this. She should just go to Octavius now and... And what? Say she slept with another man? That would be a lie and she swore to herself she wouldn't lie about anything except the Champion of Olympus... and who her mother was... But those weren't even lies. She just didn't talk about it. Ever. And nobody suspected that she, Poor Uneducated, Naïve Annabeth, would be someone sentenced to die for the gods.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, lifted her hand to rap against the door – and dropped it.

Wasn't this her room too? She could just walk in there now if she felt like it. She should. She will. So she placed her hand on the doorknob – And dropped it again. She couldn't. But wouldn't this mean she was behaving like she was guilty? She had nothing to feel guilty about. She was just nervous. Over nothing. Except maybe ruining her marriage for eternity. Then they'd hate each other and then she'd be miserable and she didn't want to go back to being miserable now that she had had a taste of happiness.

"I'm an idiot," she said loudly. She began to pace again. "Come on, Annabeth. Just knock. You're brave, aren't you?"

Except all her courage felt like it had turned and fled from her, leaving her raw and open and just... Not Annabeth. Who was being an idiot. Not Annabeth was an idiot and she couldn't seem to muster the strength to rap against the door. Or open it.

Annabeth was very mad with Not Annabeth.

Oh, to Tartarus with it! What was she doing?

With that, she nodded to herself very firmly, took a deep breath, marched up to the door and thwacked it. Hard.

Ow ow ow! She would have sworn under her breath if she wasn't so nervous, shaking her hand to try to get rid of the stinging in her knuckles. She could have broken a few! Then Gaius definitely would keep her for a week. Or a month. Or forever. She couldn't tell with him. She thought Meg might try to keep her forever. Maybe she could drag Piper down? And Thalia! They could have a polygamy! That would be nice. No meltdowns due to men. Or boys.

Only Thalia was happily married and expecting a baby.

Right. Polygamy was out.

She opened the door to their chambers slowly when she decided that he was probably ignoring her (She would ignore him if she were in his shoes... but then again, he wasn't immature), peaking around the corner of the door. "Percy?" she called softly. No answer. "I'm coming in."

A few heartbeats later (or maybe an eternity, she couldn't tell over the roaring of blood in her ears), she closed the door behind her.

There was nobody here. For a moment, she felt irrationally angry – She spent all that time summoning her courage to speak to him, and he was not here? – but then she exhaled in relief. He was probably going to come by sooner or later, if only for sleep. At least she wouldn't have to talk to him immediately.

Wait. That was a bad thing. She wanted to explain. Except she didn't know how to explain.

She wanted to hit her head against something hard. The warmth from the dying fire called to her like a siren's song, and she walked over to the grate, sitting down heavily on the chair in front of it. The embers were orange and yellow and even red still, and she tossed a log into it for something to do. She wiped the soot off her hands with her dress and sighed, sinking deeper into the chair.

She'd have to do something nice for Grover sometime. That is, if she doesn't lose her head. She laughed shakily, closing her heavy eyes, and pulled her legs up against her chest.

And if she felt this bad not knowing what he was doing, she couldn't even image what the last few days for him had been like. She didn't want to think about it anymore – All she could do was wait for him to come back, because going out to look for him would be foolish. He'll come when he comes and that was that.

So she waited.

Percy would have completely missed her if he hadn't moved toward the fire to put it out with a cup of water. She didn't look comfortable sleeping on the chair like that, and the confusion (and anger) slipped away into concern when he saw the dark circles underneath her eyes and how waxy her skin looked. Why did she look so...? The only word he could think of was weak, even though he knew she was everything but weak.

Or, at least, he thought she was everything but weak. He thought he knew her.

He didn't know what to think about her right now.

With a sigh, he squatted down in front of her and rested his hand on her too cold ankle. Her breathing was unsteady, and he couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest. She looked sick.

Miscarriage does that to you, a voice in his head reminded him. He huffed and stood. But then he looked down at her again and ran his hand over the front of his face. The weight of the world felt like it was resting on his shoulders, and he felt so, so small right now.

And this had been why he'd thrown himself into those reports, to keep him mind off of this. Whatever this was. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was not.

It seemed the only way he knew how to cope was to pretend the problem didn't even exist.

Why was he doing this to himself? Why did he kept torturing himself like this? He thought he'd stopped blaming himself for things that weren't his fault.

"You drive me crazy, you know that right?" he whispered to himself, because she wouldn't hear him and he knew it. He wasn't sure if it was in a good way or in a bad way either, her driving him crazy. He didn't really know what to feel toward her anymore. The facts didn't add up. But Gaius said she miscarried and they definitely hadn't slept together. So either he was wrong or he was right, and Percy couldn't see him being wrong in his diagnosis. Which meant that she had to have slept with another man. But that didn't make sense either, because it didn't feel like her character.

Or maybe he didn't know what her character was.

And maybe this was all just a misunderstanding that she could fix when she wakes up tomorrow.

Or maybe it was utmost understanding.

He could leave her here. He probably should. He didn't really want to be near her right now. Or anyone. But he knew he'd feel guilty tomorrow – Sleeping like that wasn't comfortable, he knew that too well. And with how pale she was, he had a feeling that she wasn't well.

He hated how weak she looked. It wasn't a good face on her.

With a growl underneath his breath, because she was still tugging on his heartstrings even when she was asleep and even when he was furious with her (and hurt, and confused, his treacherous mind added), he turned and walked away. He was going to sleep and he was going to wake up tomorrow, thinking this was all one really bizarre dream. Or it was not a bizarre dream and this was reality and she had miscarried.

And she was recovering from miscarrying.

He really hated how he kept doing this to himself.

But he still turned on his heel and crossed back into the room. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he obviously wasn't going to be able to until he soothed his guilty conscious even though he had nothing to feel guilty for. Carefully, he placed his left arm underneath her knees and the other around the small of her back, pulling her off the chair.

She was ridiculously heavy for someone so small.

Her eyes opened the instant she was airborne and she stared at him. "It's me," he said quickly when she tensed. She didn't recognize him and he didn't want her to begin thrashing in his arms. "Percy."

The instant he said his name, she melted into his arms and wrapped pressed her head against his collarbone. She exhaled slowly, and he inhaled the scent of dirt and something feminine that he still couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I wasn't pregnant," she whispered. He stopped walking in the middle of the room, tempted to dump her on the ground. I don't want to have this conversation tonight!

And then what she said registered in his head. He couldn't help but spit out, "Right, and that's why Gaius says you miscarried." She tensed in his arms, and he tried to get a grip on himself.

Her hand cupped his jaw and he unwillingly met her gaze. Her eyes were too readable – He wasn't used to them being so open that he felt like he was reading papyrus. But there was always a string attached: He felt like he was reading the work of a scholar about some obscure subject he knew nothing about.

Maybe she was vulnerable. To him. He certainly felt like he could be pushed over the edge of a cliff with just her pinky.

"Whatever happened to me, it wasn't miscarriage. All I know is that I haven't missed any months for my bleeding."

He wished he could believe her. She looked so honest, but he just... He trusted Gaius. He trusted her too, gods help him. He still trusted her. And he just wanted to trust her completely.

"What are you thinking?" Her voice sounded so small and she looked so small in his arms. He just wanted to go to sleep right now and pretend this wasn't happening but he couldn't move. His feet were rooted to the ground.

"I don't know what I'm thinking," he said honestly. "I want to believe you."

"I wish I k-knew how to make you believe me." And her voice cracked midway through her sentence. He moved again, unsure of how to respond to that. So he did the only thing he knew how to do – Move. "I swear I haven't slept... with another man."

A spark suddenly lit in her eyes and he felt nervous. Very nervous. He crossed the threshold of their bedroom and closed the door behind him by kicking it with his foot gently. He probably should not feel like his stomach was about to flip itself over.

"Let's have sex," she announced. He stared at her.

"Have you lost your mind, Annabeth?"

Because if this was her trying to make him believe her, she was going to have to do a lot better than that. Though if she was up to having sex after miscarriage... She shook her head.

"No, I haven't. Because I am still a virgin and it's supposed to hurt or something... right?" She peeked up at him through her eyelashes. He was still convinced she lost her mind. Maybe she'd gone mad with grief? "Percy?"

"Yes?" he said slowly, drawing on what limited experience he'd had with girls. "Annabeth, this is a bad idea. I'm pretty sure there is a better way. Like I can just take your word for it."

But now that he was thinking about it...

"No, you can't, because you'll be always wondering and then this'll keep going on in your head and then this'll cause a rift in our marriage and then we'll hate each other." she argued mutinously, crossing her arms. She was fixating on this and he was trying to make sense of her sudden onslaught of words.

"I could never hate you," he said eventually, not entirely sure he was telling her the truth. She poked him in the chest.

"Liar, liar," she sing-sang. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Sorry. I know that infidelity is a crime punishable by death, for women at least, and I don't... I don't want you to lie, or think you're lying. Or think I'm lying. I don't want you to lie to me. And the only way you can believe me is by consummating our marriage."

"A year late," he reminded her, but now he was thinking it through. He had a bad feeling about this, that they were making a mistake... But he also knew that this could – no, it would cause a rift between them. Subconsciously, at least. And he didn't want that either. Besides, she was right – He needed facts and consummating would mean he wouldn't be able to not believe her.

Were they being reckless? He wasn't sure. He did know his emotions were definitely blinding him at the moment, but his mind was telling him this was the only way... And she was the one who suggested it. She obviously wasn't nervous about physical intimacy anymore. It was only him at this point.

She was still watching him, waiting for his decision.

He dropped her, and she stumbled before regaining her balance. She stood in front of him, one golden-brown eyebrow perfectly raised, silently challenging. Are you scared? I'm not.

Throwing the voice that insisted that this was a Very Bad Idea to the wind, he took one step forward, planted his hands on her cheeks and pressed her lips against hers. It was gentler than he expected, what with how upset he still felt. Even now he was afraid she was as fragile as porcelain and would break.

Apparently, she did not like being treated like porcelain.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and she leapt on him, legs wrapping around his hips, her tongue tracing the outline of his lips. He gripped her thighs, perhaps a little too tight, backpedaling until he bumped against the wall. Her fingers pulled something off his shoulders without disconnecting their lips, and his heart raced in tandem with hers.

She pushed off the wall and he stumbled. Something fell off the desk she slid over with a loud crash and she jumped. He pulled away for a moment but she chased after him, capturing his lips again with an almost frenzied desperation. His teeth crashed against hers and he pulled away with a wince.

"You okay?" he asked, catching the grimace on her face. She nodded. Then her lips pressed against the juncture where his shoulder and neck met, and he rolled his head to the side automatically, quite unable to control his actions. Oddly enough, the hand on his cold shoulder felt like a living flame as he lifted her again, wheeling back toward the bed. They fell, and she caught herself before she could collide with his chest, hair falling over her shoulder.

Their lips had disconnected during the fall and he stared at her, coming to his senses a little. Was she really okay with this?

Apparently, yes.

She sat up and shrugged off the robe he hadn't even realized she'd been wearing until now, revealing the thin chiton she was wearing underneath it.

His mouth suddenly went very dry at the amount of skin displayed – The only other times he even saw her tanned, defined arms was when she was in full armor, and that was very, very different. He was usually too focused on her form to actually pay attention to her beauty or too busy evading blows more recently. But now...

"Gods, you're the most beautiful woman I've seen."

Her cheeks colored. He couldn't help but smile as he pulled her back down, and then her lips attached to his jaw. A moan built in his throat as his head fell back against his will, his hands tangling back in her hair. If he closed his eyes, he could almost forget that they weren't doing this just for themselves and nothing else. He could pretend they were just a man and a woman in love.

The feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen this way grew stronger but he kept pushing it away the more the clothing was shed. So what if this wasn't ideal? They didn't have their entire lives to wait anymore. They didn't want to wait anymore.

He wrapped his fingers around the knot of her chiton and looked at her, silently asking if it was all right to remove this last layer of clothing between them. He could hear her gulp and he pulled away when she didn't indicate it was okay – Because even now, he didn't want to cross without her. Her small hands wrapped around his and she nodded once, gray eyes burning with conviction.

At least, he hoped that was conviction.

Too late to go back now.

The chiton unraveled before his eyes, leaving just... Annabeth.

"Oh, my gods," was the only thing he managed to get out between his breathlessness and the heavy feeling in his chest. She was blushing hard enough that red had crept down to her chest, and she wasn't quite looking at him. Granted, he was too focused on memorizing the toned muscles of her arms and her stomach and her legs and – and everything.

He pushed himself up and kissed a scar on her ribcage, right underneath her left breast. She was staring at him, and he smiled at her. "You're beautiful," he murmured genuinely. He kissed another scar, on her thigh. He sat up and kissed another he'd noticed on her shoulder. Her eyes looked a little watery and he was worried she might burst into tears – Was he being too forward? Granted, they were completely naked, but he was never sure with her what it was...

"Really?"

He nodded. "Every last bit of you," he promised. "From here," – He kissed her forehead, – "to here," –her nose, – "and here," –each of her hands, — "all the way down to here." and he cradled her foot in his own hands, kissing her knee since he could not reach her foot. And it was the pure, simple, honest truth.

She switched them so that he was on top and he rested on his elbows, pressing his forehead against hers, watching her eyes. A thousand emotions ran across them, and he kissed her lips again. His hands, which he'd been so careful with because he didn't want to break her, wandered up and massaged her sides, watching every faint sigh and every moan when he touched a tender spot and every laugh when he accidentally tickled her. She was so... She was so Annabeth, even like this. She deserved the world and more.

"Are you sure?" he gasped, wanting nothing more than to enter her right then and there. Her chest kept hitting his as she heaved for air as she nodded.

"Yes." He heard the unheard I want you to believe me. He could see it in her eyes. She smiled wryly. "I'm sure. I trust you."

The feeling came back with a vengeance, reminding him that they had put this off because they wanted to be sure. At least, he did. And he wasn't sure still if he was ready. He didn't want this to happen the way it had with Rachel – They'd rushed into it, and they had regretted it.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready. Not yet. He couldn't do this. Not like this. He didn't want their actions to be ruled by fear or anger. He loved her too much for this.

"I can't do this." He exhaled through his nose and his eyes burned. He wanted to do this. But he couldn't. "Not like this."

Gods, maybe he was the one who was scared with being intimate after all this time. This wasn't normal.

He pressed his head into her shoulder as the tears slipped out of his eyes. Her arms slowly wrapped around him, and he exhaled, trying to steady himself again. "Percy?"

For a moment, he tried to push himself up, but her arms tightened around him and her fingers rose then carded through his hair. He pressed his lips against her bare skin, apologizing and thanking all at once.

"I want to," he croaked. "You know I want to."

But not like this.

She looked hurt and he knew it was because of him, which only made him feel even worse.

"I love you too much to let our first time be this way." It wasn't an explanation, not really, but he didn't know how else he could explain it. She inhaled sharply. But her heart still kept beating in tandem with his. "I believe you." His voice cracked. "I believe you. I'm so sorry. It's me. It's not you, I swear. I just... I can't do it like this."

Her arms tightened around his. "It's okay, Percy." And her voice cracked too. He lifted his head so he could meet her eyes and all he saw was warmth in them and something like guilt. "I'm sorry for pushing this."

He sat up and kissed her again. He shook his head. This wasn't her fault – It was neither of their faults. It was just their emotions flaring up and just . . . both of them acting impulsively. He should have listened to his gut sooner. "Don't be. It isn't your fault. Please don't feel guilty."

For a moment, they didn't move, and then her hand rose and her thumb brushed against his cheek. He closed his eyes, the heavy feeling in his chest not subsiding.

"I'm going to get my robe," she said quietly. He nodded, still not opening his eyes.

"Can you grab me one too?" Because now he felt more exposed in his life. Her weight left the bed and a few moments later, the cloth hit his head. He pulled it over himself, but he didn't feel any less... He didn't even know how to explain this feeling. He felt like he'd just bared the deepest, ugliest parts of his soul to her light and he hadn't done it willingly.

That was exactly how he felt right now.

She slipped back into the bed with him and he looked at her. Her skin was still waxy, and if anything, the circles underneath her eyes were darker. Guilt clawed its way into his insides. He wanted to rip them up and pretend they didn't belong to him. He wanted to be loyal, he wanted to be fake, because that was the only parts of him that were strong.

"It's okay," she whispered, as if she had been reading his thoughts. Maybe she had. He thought she might know him better than he knew himself at this point. "I understand."

"I believe you," he repeated, to make himself feel like this had amounted to something. It hadn't, not really. He would have believed her anyway, if he'd been given time to think it over. He was just—

"Stop," she commanded him. "Stop blaming yourself, Percy."

"I can't," he admitted, because at this point he had nothing left to hide. "I'm more broken than I care to admit."

For a moment, she just stared at him, and then she reached up and wrapped her arms around him. "Fine then," she whispered. "You're broken. We're just human, Percy. That's all we are in the end. I can't save you. I don't know how to. Only you can do that yourself, but I do know you are strong enough to fix yourself. I love you. Something in the way you move makes me feel like I can't live without you and it makes me want to go all the way to the end of this, wherever it may lead us. But you don't need me to be whole. Just like I don't need you to be whole. All I want to do is share my life with you, and that's what makes me feel like I'm able to fly."

He wrapped his arms around her again, squeezing her tight, trying to convey what words would not tell her. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you too. You make me feel so alive."

"I know." She gripped him so tight he couldn't breathe, but he didn't mind. "I know."

Sleep did not come to him, even when Annabeth eventually dropped off.

Author's Note: Now that I have successfully traumatized myself again, I can scold Annabeth for jumping her husband who is not ready for her hormonal urges. *rolls eyes* I'm posting this without a third round of editing so that I won't have second thoughts about this . . . again. . Though this is probably about as far as I'm going to go with stuff like this – I'll write the sin, but not the lemons, and that's final. There's just some things that I don't know how to write and that's one of them.

So, to the kiddos who probably should not be reading this just like I should not be writing this, my one piece of advice to avoid a situation like this is to HALT when you're hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. Or, at least, that's what my mom says. It's worked for me so far and things tend to explode when I don't. *nervous chuckling*

I swear this was supposed to be happy... ier. Happier. Much happier. They were dancing and I was happy with the waltz between them. Then I ruined it because it was too happy.

And I haven't even hit rock bottom yet with the angst.

... I can't believe I actually wrote this. And I'm posting it.