iii.

france, 1796

Percy's time is dwindling.

His crimes haunt him, for he has committed the worst of offenses. Not larceny. Not homicide.

Treason.

Funneling his fortune into the rebellion is a violation punishable by guillotine. Every franc he gives to the cause is another reason for the Crown to execute him, and he inherited a large sum of money from his late father which he intends to donate.

The Crown has their suspicions. They know Percy has a role in the revolution. It won't be long before they convict him and sentence him to death. He owes it to himself to spend the remainder of his days experiencing all life has to offer.

This is why Percy agrees to attend Jason's masquerade ball at his chateau north of Paris. The invitation arrived in the mail a fortnight ago.

The honor of your presence is requested at Jason Grace's Masquerade Ball at his estate in Oise.

27 October 1796

Répondez s'il vous plaît!

Percy would, under usual circumstances, never attend such an event as this, regardless of his impending demise. However, he's willing to make an exception for this particular event, as his close acquaintance, Monsieur Grace, is hosting.

Percy dresses for the masquerade in a suit of velvet, donning a cravat and silk mask to augment his ensemble. His carriage awaits him outside, and after he is seated in the rickety cab, the journey to Jason's estate begins.

Oise is not a far distance from Percy's home in Aisne. Still, when he arrives at Jason's, the party has already begun. Percy's chauffeur drops him at the porte-cochère, and a member of Monsieur Grace's household staff ushers Percy inside and through a set of doors into the ballroom.

Percy feels out of place upon entering the masquerade scene. Everywhere he turns there's swirling skirts and champagne toasts and hors d'oeuvres offered on silver platters. Music played by a string quartet floats through the air. Monsieur Grace stands in one corner of the large space, greeting his guests. Perhaps Percy should've stayed home.

"Bonsoir."

A voice anchors him to reality.

Percy turns around to face the young woman who spoke. She is tall, with golden hair in a twist at the top of her head, and wears a gown of exquisite cerulean silk. A silver mask partially obscures the lady's face, but the features Percy can see are delicate and beautiful.

"Good evening." Percy replies.

"Je suis Annabeth." The lady says, extending a hand. It's slightly unorthodox, but he shakes her gloved palm nonetheless.

"Je suis Perseus, Viscount."

She smiles quite prettily. "Have we met before? You bear an uncanny resemblance."

He shakes his head. "I simply have that sort of face."

Lady Annabeth gazes around, fluttering her fan in front of her face. "This masquerade is quite something, wouldn't you agree?"

"I know the host, Monsieur Grace, well, but I feel a great sense of discomfort tonight."

"I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps a dance would ease your discomfort?"

"That is a bold offer. Traditionally it is the man who asks the woman to dance." Percy says, raising an eyebrow.

"Gender roles are but a societal construct."

"Then we shall dance."

Lady Annabeth is a proficient dancer. Percy is considering asking her to share a second dance, the sauteuse waltz, when another young man approaches them. He lifts the lady's hand to his lips, then bows.

"Lady Eugénie! May I entreat you to a waltz?"

Lady Annabeth's eyes dart from Percy's face to the young man's. "Lord Castellan, I would love to, but I've promised Viscount Perseus all the remaining dances."

This is, of course, not true. However, the odder curiosity is the name Lord Castellan called Lady Annabeth by: Eugénie.

Lord Castellan goes away, irritation scrunching his face. Annabeth audibly sighs, relieved.

Before Percy can ask her his questions, she touches his shoulder. "Shall we dance again?"

"I would be honored, but I didn't promise all my remaining dances to you. Do you have other gentleman you wish to share the floor with as well?"

"I wish to waltz only with you."

"Then you shall only waltz with me."

Annabeth and Percy dance until the lady complains of blistering feet. Percy finds a place for her to rest, and the pair of them drink champagne until they're both pink in the face. Percy's discomfort has indeed melted away.

"Would you like to step outside?" he asks Annabeth.

"Yes. The fresh air would be divine."

She takes his arm, and he leads her out of the ballroom. The corridors of Monsieur Grace's home are a maze to navigate, but after a short while, they step out into the moonlit evening.

Lady Annabeth breathes in deeply. "It gets quite hot inside, doesn't it?"

"Suffocatingly so."

They stroll around. There are lush, exotic plants and marble statues to admire, and at the center of the courtyard there's a fountain of crystal waters.

Annabeth sits down on the edge of the fountain. "The stars are beautiful tonight."

She removes her mask, and for the first time, Percy realizes the full extent of her beauty. Lady Annabeth has gray eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, cheeks soft and round, full lips, a wide smile.

"The stars are not the only beautiful sight."

He picks a white rose from a bush to the left of the fountain and places it in Annabeth's hand. "For you, Mademoiselle."

Annabeth tucks it behind her ear, smiling. "Thank you."

Percy desperately wants to ask her his questions now, but isn't quite sure how to broach the subject.

Fortunately, Annabeth speaks first.

"I would like to explain why Lord Castellan called me Eugénie, but I fear you will see me differently if I reveal to you the true reason."

"You're…enthralling, Lady Annabeth. Nothing you say will make me think any other way."

She fiddles with her gloves, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At the very least, you should no longer refer to me as 'lady.' I am no noble, and I am certainly no gentlewoman. As for Eugénie–"

Loud voices echo into their ears from somewhere nearby. Annabeth falls silent.

"...his carriage is here. The viscount must be in the ballroom..."

"...we shouldn't send forces inside unless we must. Search the grounds first…"

Annabeth covers her mouth. "We must go inside. Immediately." she says, leaping to her feet.

"What are you talking about?"

"Trust me."

He follows her inside, more confused than ever.

"What is happening?" Percy asks her as they re-enter the ballroom.

"Dance. I will explain everything."

Percy places a hand on her waist, and once again they begin to waltz. They're slightly out-of-time with the other dancers.

Percy needs answers. Annabeth's evidently lost in thought, her eyebrows knitted tightly together, but he wishes she'd stop thinking so hard and tell him what is going on.

Are they in danger?

Is Annabeth in danger?

Annabeth's heart pounds in her chest.

The officers are here. Why? She was under the impression they would not arrive until much later, as it was supposed to be she who cuffed the felon, Mr. Jackson.

They must not feel she is competent enough to complete the job herself.

This thought both enrages and devastates Annabeth. What does she have to do to be taken seriously in this society? Will she ever be treated as an equal?

Annabeth knows she needs to tell the truth to Mr. Jackson-Percy. Anxiety has turned his face pale and twisted. He's a very handsome man, but this is not a handsome look.

Leaning forward, Annabeth presses her lips to Percy's ear. She'll be brutally honest. There isn't time to beat around the bush.

"They're coming for you. The Crown's officers. They know what you did."

A multitude of emotions pass over Percy's face: first confusion, then shock, then alarm, and finally, hurt. He tries to move away, but Annabeth pulls him close again.

"I'm informing you of this now so you can make your escape. I heard the officers outside. They'll search the grounds first, but enter the chateau next." she says to him, lowering her voice to ensure only he will hear.

"Do you work for them? The Crown?"

"Yes. Please keep pace."

Percy frowns. "I presume they know I'm for the rebellion?"

"They have known a long while. I believe it was decided this should be the time to attempt to convict you because they assumed you would not be as vigilant at a ball."

"How exactly did they know I'd be here?"

The piece of music ends. Annabeth and Percy stop dancing.

"The Crown has a network of spies. They know everything."

"And you are one of these spies."

"I am."

"How?"

She narrows her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

A flush appears on his face. "Erm…you're a woman, I suppose."

"Does that mean I am less capable than a man?"

"No, no. It just surprises me that the Crown would recruit women."

"I hid my identity during induction. I only revealed my gender after they were aware of my skills."

"Oh."

"We must formulate a plan." Annabeth says, changing subjects as the opening notes of another song play.

They won't stay for this dance. Annabeth takes Percy by the elbow, pulling him out of the ballroom and down a portrait-lined hallway.

She stops him in a shadowy alcove.

"Quite cozy."

"Don't you start. It's the most inconspicuous location I could find on short notice."

Percy spreads his hands. "Please share the plan."

It is a relief Mr. Jackson isn't the one scheming. He's handsome and has a wickedly amusing sense of humor in conversation, but Annabeth's mind is much sharper than his.

"First, we must plant a false trail. If you are to make your escape, we must fool the Crown into thinking you are somewhere you are not. I suggest…" She trails off, her cheeks going pink. "You won't think me a proper lady for suggesting this, but we ought to convince the officers we are passionately in love and running off together."

"Will that not cost you your job?"

"This isn't about my occupation. This is about doing what is right."

He nods. "You are very noble, Miss Chase."

Annabeth carries on. "We will convince them of this by…touching intimately and kissing in the ballroom. Then you will send for your carriage."

"Touching intimately?" Percy repeats with a smile.

She nudges his shoulder . "Be quiet."

"My apologies. Please continue with the plan."

"While everyone thinks we are going back to your estate, we won't actually get in the carriage. I will pay your chauffeur a large sum of money for him to drive off and vouch for us if questioned. Then, while the carriage is off to my home, we will re-enter Grace's home from the servants' entrance and use the wigs and powders in Lady Grace's boudoir for our disguises. After we are thoroughly disguised, we will leave the grounds in a wagon and travel somewhere far off to the countryside."

"I see no flaws in that plan."

There are many flaws. They are taking a lot of risks. However, this is the best plan of action Annabeth can think of.

She sighs. "We just will have to ensure we are not glimpsed when we re-enter the chateau."

"Stealth is one of my strong suits."

"We shall see."

They walk back inside the ballroom and share a few more dances. Dancing with Percy is otherworldly. He must be classically taught, for he dances exquisitely.

Annabeth pulls him close by his shoulders. She knows they need to kiss. She's prepared herself to some degree, but she is still terrified, regardless.

She whispers a countdown beneath her breath for his sake and hers. " Trois, deux, un …"

At one, Annabeth crashes her lips to Percy's, stopping mid-dance. He falters for a moment, then begins to kiss her back with unbridled passion. Annabeth's arms circle around his neck, drawing him even closer, while he holds her by the waist. She's only known him for one night, yet she feels she's wanted this for much longer.

Kissing Percy is utter bliss, even if it's just for show.

Annabeth cracks opens her eyes to peer over Percy's shoulder. Just as she hoped, many have turned to look their way. The music continues to play, but only a few couples dance. The men watching are envious, while women look faint, fanning themselves and clutching their partners as they talk of the scandal in low whispers.

Once they've optimally shocked the partygoers, Percy tears himself away from Annabeth, breathing unnecessarily hard for melodrama. "Call for the carriage." He gasps.

Annabeth feigns swooning, clutching her chest. "Why, are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life, mon amour ."

" Mon dieu , we must leave for your estate at once."

"I will hardly be able to contain myself until then. I shall send for my chauffeur at once."

They run out, hand in hand, pretending to ignore the horrorstruck expressions.

As soon as they're out of the ballroom and down that portrait-lined hallway, Annabeth and Percy both begin to laugh. The sound bubbles out of Annabeth's chest and all she can think about is how absolutely remarkable these circumstances are.

Once outside, they duck inside the carriage house. Percy promises his chauffeur a large sum of money to follow his pleas, and soon the carriage rattles off down the path.

Annabeth takes Percy by the hand and leads him back to the chateau. The grounds are crawling with officers. They may not have as much time inside as Annabeth thought. They'll have to put on their disguises and make their escape incredibly quickly.

Footsteps are approaching. She's had herself and Percy taking a complicated route, mostly using trees and shrubbery as cover, but at the moment they are out in the open.

Thinking fast, Annabeth pushes Percy behind a tall hedge. She throws herself onto the ground beside him.

Leaves rustle from the wind. Annabeth doesn't dare to breathe. The footsteps travel farther away, increasing in pace.

Did the officer hear?

When she's sure the path is clear, Annabeth and Percy set off again.

Through the back door they go, then up the stairs. Annabeth isn't quite sure where Lady Grace's boudoir is located, but she follows the scent of cologne until they reach the dressing room.

The room is opulently furnished, but Annabeth can't take long to appreciate it. Her eyes sweep the room, searching for Lady Grace's wigs. She sees them sitting on mannequin heads on the surface of the bureau.

Annabeth pins her hair up and puts on a black wig, then swipes a blonde one for Percy.

"We've swapped hair colors." Percy says with a chuckle.

Annabeth hardly has time for humor, so she doesn't so much as smile at this. "Where does she keep the powder and rouge?"

She opens the bureau's drawers until she finds the containers of rouge and powder. She dusts the powder onto her face with her fingers, then searches for a brush for the rouge.

Percy watches as Annabeth applies the red rouge to her lips.

"Why do women put on makeup?" he asks. "They look much more lovely without it."

Annabeth hums. "I don't know."

Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth sees a flash of an officer's coat.

"We need to jump out the window." she says, forcing her voice to stay calm. She quickly places the rouge and brush back inside the bureau drawer.

"What?"

Annabeth slips off her heels. "The window. Open it. Now."

He doesn't ask questions, hastening over to the window. Annabeth stands close to him; she's nearly breathing down his neck as he stares at the ground below. They're very high up.

Annabeth squeezes his shoulder. "Make sure to land on your feet. Your body will absorb the fall. It'll hurt like hell, but it's better than landing on your head."

Percy nods shortly, then lowers himself out of the window and to the ground. He lands on his feet, loses his balance, and tumbles onto his posterior.

Annabeth meets him on the ground a moment later. She hears the guards burst through the door in the boudoir, hollering and loading their rifles.

Breathing deeply, she seizes Percy's wrist. "How fast of a runner are you?"

"I should be capable of keeping pace with you."

"Alright, then. Follow after me."

She studied a map of the grounds in preparing to attend this masquerade, so she knows their safest option for refuge is the barn. They sprint down a long path. Annabeth's skirts balloon around her, a constant tripping hazard. She eventually gathers them all in her arms, foregoing decency. Percy seeing her undergarments is the least of her concerns at the moment.

The barn is near the groundskeeper's house and the servants' latrines. As soon as she sees it, Annabeth breaks into a faster run. Looking over her shoulder, she doesn't see the guards. She prays they lost them.

Annabeth throws the barn doors open and leaps inside onto the mound of hay. Percy follows suit.

He sneezes almost immediately upon entering the barn. " Bordel de merde . Hay."

They lay there on their backs in hay, both trying to catch their breath. Every part of Annabeth feels alive and tingling.

"Annabeth, you need to go." Percy says after some time.

She understands why he's saying this. Her head knows she should run. Her heart, however, demands she stay. "I'm not leaving you."

"If the officers find us here–"

"You can't think like that." She already is. Worry claws at her insides, tears at her heart. An image of Percy at the guillotine flashes through her mind.

"They might hurt you. You aided a criminal in an attempted escape."

"I won't leave you here. The officers aren't going to find us. We lost them back at the chateau. We'll wait until morning, then we'll run. We can catch a ride on a wagon, go to the countryside. You need me." She's acting foolish. She is in denial. Their plan is absurd. She was caught up in the excitement of a masquerade ball and didn't consider how ridiculous her scheme was. It would never succeed.

"I need to know you're safe. Annabeth…I know we've only spent an evening together, but I'm falling in love with you."

These words take the breath straight from her lungs. "I feel the same way. That's why I won't desert you."

He sighs. "I'm not waiting until morning. We need to gain as much distance between us and the officers. We leave now."

"Percy, be reasonable. There's nothing we can do. No wagons will depart in the middle of the night."

"We'll walk on foot to the next town."

Annabeth sighs. " Mon dieu. Fine. Allow me to remove this wretched gown first."

Percy stands, brushes the stray bits of hay from his clothes, then extends a hand to Annabeth. She takes it. Warmth spreads through her whole body at the contact.

"Do you require help with the lacing?"

She turns. "It would be most appreciated."

Annabeth feels his fingers nimbly undo the lacing. She slips the gown over her shoulders. Her cheeks flame as she realizes that she's standing in front of him in her undergarments and nothing more.

Percy pointedly averts his eyes.

"What shall we do once we've escaped?" Annabeth asks, averting her attention from her rapid heartbeat.

"Perhaps we can travel the world. There are so many places I have not seen."

"I would like that."

She hears the sound of hooves clomping outside.

"Percy?" She whispers, her voice tight.

" Oui ?"

"If we don't escape…I want you to know that everything that comes after this will be worth it, because I met you."

Percy hears the hooves too. His whole face crumples. "It was an honor to meet you."

He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, then weaves his fingers through hers.

The doors are thrown open. Two officers point rifles at Annabeth and Percy. Annabeth's heart sinks to her feet.

"Pereus Jackson, you are under arrest for treason against the Crown."