. Courses: Courses were the fancy word for a woman's period. When a girl started bleeding she immediately began having babies and was given red skirts to hide the blood. Childbearing played a HUGE role in a royal lady's life, social standing, and the realm's very existence, so it was typically a very exciting thing...

. Time: People used sundials, hourglasses, and clocks to mark the passage of time in the medieval period.

. Gardens: Medieval castles, manor-houses, and monasteries had large gardens called pleasaunces or pleasances that served many different purposes such as growing fruits and veggies for eating, plants and herbs for medicine, flowers, and blossoms for decoration and/or courtship, etc. While hedges were a common enough plant during the Middle Ages, I don't know if hedge mazes were, which makes them unique for this story and possibly historically inaccurate.

. Marriage: Marriage was a HUGE deal in the Middle Ages. Royals and nobles used marriages as political and personal alliances while peasants simply married to survive. Children were usually matched and/or married as young as 7 or 8 because a typical life expectancy was so short (good news though, they didn't start babymaking until the girl had her period!) Still SO young for modern time but entirely normal and expected for the 1200s.

Twelve Summers and Falls

For the most part, the young princess was undaunted by blood. She had, after all, seen too much of it in her life to be phased by it anymore.

She had bled when she roughhoused with her brothers and the other castle children (which was more often than not to the amusement of her father and the chagrin of her mother). She had bled in her's and Malcolm's weapons and training lessons (which was more often than not to the amusement of her parents and the chagrin of the people). And she had seen enough blood to fill a sea when she assisted the royal physician, Asclepius, in bringing the twins into the world (which was to the delight of her parents and all the court and herself, for not only was the royal family growing, but the line was more secure than ever before).

But this? This was far too much to handle, and it was much too early in the morning to be doing this.

"It happens to all ladies," her lady mother was saying, perched on the edge of Annabeth's bed like the owls she so cherished and adored. At this particular moment, Annabeth wished herself or Athena was an owl. It didn't matter which to her, as long as it meant that they weren't in the bedchamber, on her bed, trying to suffer through this uncomfortable discussion.

The young princess was silent, trembling with rage and the feeling of her body's betrayal from when she rose that morning to red-stained sheets.

"Some, of course," Athena self-corrected. "Not all women bleed. Monthly bleeding isn't exclusive to only women... I know of some men who have their courses as well... But for those who do have courses, they are a completely natural phenomenon. I had mine around your age, as do most young girls. It is completely normal and nothing to grow so overworked over."

Anyone who knew Athena knew that comforting and soothing were rarely ever used when describing her. But may the gods bless the woman for trying.

"Fantastic," Annabeth muttered sourly, picking at invisible threads on her blanket. She could practically hear her mother frowning.

"Don't go sounding too excited, now."

Annabeth threw her hands in the air in an abandoned frenzy, unbrushed curls flying everywhere. "Why ever would I be excited? Tell me one excitable thing about this curse that's worthwhile."

"You are officially of childbearing age," Athena said without skipping a beat. "To create life is one of the most beautiful things this world has to offer. You will be thankful for the capability when your turn arises."

This didn't soothe the young princess in the slightest bit, who honestly did not feel that a few hypothetical pregnancies were worth a lifetime of monthly courses. Not that she would ever dare to say this aloud, of course. She knew better than to voice such beliefs. Such opinions went against everything their world stood for, which was to create future heirs, royals, nobles, peasants, and servants at every opportunity.

No, Annabeth simply just wrung her hands, still not quite believing her grand misfortune. She knew all about the adaptations of a women's body and she had known her courses were due eventually, but she hadn't put much thought or planning into when they would arrive or what she would do when they finally came.

And so, just as what most folks did when something that they hadn't expected for some time suddenly showed up or presented itself, Annabeth began to freak out.

"This ceases when I'm, what, fifty summers and falls? Sixty summers and falls?" Annabeth said, voice becoming shrill. Just last night her life had been fine and suitable and normal, and now it was all a disastrous mess. Courses were always followed with marriage, and although marriage had always been her inevitable fate, it seemed closer than ever before.

And by the gods, she was not ready, she really was not ready.

Athena frowned at her lack of composure.

"That's years and years and years away!" Annabeth babbled. "I don't want to be cursed for decades upon end with such a wretched ailment! I'll bleed an ocean and die long before I can even think about children!"

Athena narrowed her gray eyes. "We'll commission you red petticoats and warm compresses and you will learn to live with this just as I did and all those before us and all those who will follow," she snapped, her patience having officially worn thin and evaporated.

Annabeth bit her tongue submissively, surprised that her mother's patience had lasted even this long.

But that still didn't mean she was happy about her body changing or her future that was now hurtling towards her at breakneck speed.

Who would she be matched with? And how soon? As much as her parents adored her, they were monarchs first and parents after. Annabeth could cry and plead and beg and still her parents, with tears in their eyes, would marry her off for the goodness of their kingdom.

Knock knock.

The two women frowned. They weren't expecting any visitors, as Athena had ordered all the servants from the room for privacy.

"Leave us!" Athena called. Her neck craned elegantly as she tried to peer out the window by Annabeth's bed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight," Annabeth said, calculating the shadows on the sundial below.

Knock knock.

Athena pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes in a rare form of emotion.

Annabeth wasn't accustomed to seeing Athena acting so... so mortal-like. Annabeth had scant memories of her mother displaying any sort of emotion. The princess was always so stern and cold and lived up to her nickname, the Lady of Stone, quite well.

Knock knock.

Seeing that Athena was making no move to answer her daughter or her daughter's door, Annabeth crawled off the bed and crossed the chamber herself.

On the other side of the threshold stood her father. His crown was askew, as always, and his clothes were rumpled and looked as if he had thrown them on and kept running. The court fondly called him caring to his face and cruelly called him careless behind his back. Looking at him now, Annabeth begrudgingly could see why.

Frederick blinked down at her for a moment and then squinted past her at Athena.

He cleared his throat and said, "The barons have arrived."

Athena stood up immediately and joined them at the door. "When?" she wanted to know, once more the composed princess Annabeth had known all her life.

"Late last night. They've been fed and watered and eagerly await your presence in the Great Hall." The Prince Consort smiled easily but his wife was not in the mood, and so no smiles were returned.

Athena adjusted her circlet as she inhaled sharply. "I cannot greet them now. My presence is required with the council in fifteen minutes."

Frederick's brow furrowed into a line that had been deepened by years of brow furrowing. "I told them they would be seen to shortly. I cannot march back down there and contradict what I just said. I'll look the fool."

"I know that," Athena said, fatigue lacing her voice.

"Why have the barons come?" Annabeth asked. She knew interrupting her mother was unwise, but she also knew that the solstice ball was twelve sleeps away and that guests tended to arrive closer to the event.

Athena sighed deeply. "I had wished to discuss inventory and progress. It's been a good while. A thorough report is long overdue."

"Is rescheduling not an option?" Frederick asked.

"Not this time. The matter they wish to discuss is sudden and time-sensitive..." Annabeth's stomach twisted as both her parents' eyes slid over her. Nothing was ever a secret at court or kept concealed for very long, especially when concerning the royal family's personal affairs.

Frederick grimaced and sent his daughter a sympathetic look, knowing just as well as she did that her union would be the main focus of that meeting.

Athena folded one arm, bringing the other up to tap a thoughtful tune on her chin. "Why don't you go in my stead while I see to the barons and their families?"

The prince consort immediately shook his head. "You know the council has little love for me. They shall not take my spontaneous attendance — and the absence of your's — at their gathering too well, especially one of such vitalness."

Athena sent him a scathing look. "And whose fault is that? In all the years of this union, you have never once attempted to win their favor."

Frederick opened his mouth, thought better of it, and snapped it shut again. "They're just a very aggressive lot," he muttered.

Annabeth found she had to agree with her father on that. Chiron, the royal Weapons Master, was kind enough, and besides her parents, he was the only adult who would not berate her for doing things or not doing things just because she was a girl. But the rest of them? They were all too dull and unimportant for Annabeth to remember, but she did know they were a ferocious lot.

Athena made a rather unladylike face that translated into 'seriously?' "Most of them can hardly stand without assistance, Frederick. One of them has been confined to a chair all his life."

Frederick narrowed his eyes. "Chairs or no chairs, they're a hostile bunch."

The young princess's parents had some sort of staring contest that her mother eventually won... as always. Her father sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. "Alright," he muttered.

Athena smiled without satisfaction. "Have Annabeth by your side. The presence of a true born will lessen the offense of my absence."

Annabeth's heart twinged for her father for the unintentional slight. The crown, while it was not exclusive, was most certainly favorable of unions between nobles and royals and cared very little for peasants marrying into the royal line at all. Athena had defied this unspoken (yet strongly implied) expectation by declaring her union to Frederick, the court scholar and inventor, nearly giving King Zeus and consort Hera a heart attack and a stroke.

Frederick, while an intelligent man with a handsome face and of respectable roots, was still a commoner. The court never really recovered from the marriage, nor did the nobles and royals. To them, Frederick was still a commoner who was simply just dressed prettier than before.

"I have a strong inkling that you wish to attend this meeting as much as I do," Frederick commented as they watched Athena's retreating figure.

Annabeth shifted uncomfortably, the cold stones stinging her bare feet. Even on the hottest day of the hottest summer, the stone castle was chilly. "Not particularly."

"As I thought," he sighed.

His hands went to adjust his sash, the symbolism of his royal status. Had he been king, not consort, he would wear a crown in favor of a sash, and had Athena been queen, not princess, she too would wear a crown in favor of a circlet. But while Athena would eventually inherit the crown of her father and be named Queen, Frederick would merely be given a circlet of his own and remain as Royal Consort.

Some lands had two rulers, a king, and a queen, but this land strongly kept the ideals of a sole ruler and their consort, whoever he or she might be. That tradition has never been challenged and so it has never been changed.

Frederick mustered a languished smile. He seemed to have aged three years in three minutes when talking to his wife.

"I believe the castle labyrinth should be empty right around now. The gardeners aren't due for watering for at least a few more hours. If you take the western passage you shouldn't run into your mother."

A fierce love and appreciation unfurled like fresh blossoms of a magnolia within Annabeth's chest. She stretched onto tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheeks in a silent show of gratitude.

The young princess knew her upbringing was rather unorthodox, considering she was both a girl and a royal. Girls did not play with weapons or study warfare or climb trees or wrestle with their brothers. Instead, they learned how to sew and weave and cook and keep a house. Royals girls did neither. They learned their letters and histories and how to coyly lure a man into their beds while their brothers and fathers and sons went off to hack each other into bloody bits on the battlefield.

It had been Annabeth's mother had been the first to change these norms, for it seemed that challenging the realm's expectations was a habit of hers. Princess Athena was the perfect heir to replace her brothers after they tactlessly abdicated the throne, and with her extensive knowledge in matters of the crown, military, diplomacy, and economy, she quickly became her father's Chief Advisor.

The people had been startled, bewildered, and unhappy, for allowing a woman such power had never been done before, and was certainly not being done anywhere else. Overtime, however, their discontent swiftly grew into adoration when their fiery princess only brought peace and prosperity and wealth to their land, and whoever said or thought that a woman's place wasn't on the throne, well, may the gods bless and keep them from the people's wrath.

But as much as the people loved Athena and her children, they disliked Frederick, the commoner among jewels, the peasant among royals, the mortal among gods, and they made this crystal clear in clever subtleties.

This is what inspired Annabeth, who had already started in search of something more suitable to wear, to pause over the bedchamber's threshold.

She turned to look at her father. "But what of you?"

Frederick waved his hand absentmindedly. "I am but a grown man, honey. I'll be fine. Let us just pray that their knees and hips and joints are in kinder conditions today, for perhaps then they will be kinder to me."

Father spoke true about the shade, Annabeth thought as a gentle wind played with her hair. She tilted her face upward, basking in the warmth of the sun that streamed through the trellis's leafy canopy. The sky was a great big expansion of blue with fluffy white splatterings of clouds. This is lovely. So quiet, so peaceful, with no one else around—

Thump.

Annabeth opened her eyes and dragged her gaze downward, wondering what had just bumped into her ankle. Rolling on the walkway a few paces away was the culprit: a small, wooden ball.

The young princess crouched, balancing on her toes, and gingerly scooped up the toy. Brushing off invisible dust and dirt, she turned it this way and that in her hand. Even to her untrained eye, she could see that it was remarkably made, perhaps even finer than her own toys and trinkets. This was something of a novelty, for who could afford and dare to gift their child with a toy that could rival that of a princess?

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to finding the master. Balls don't just roll into people's ankles — not without other people rolling them first. That was just the basics of physics. So from where (or whom) did this come?

"Pssst."

Annabeth's head shot up and she almost dropped the ball in shock.

"Hello?" she called, eyes darting around what she thought was an empty clearing in the labyrinth.

If she strained enough she could hear bustling from within the castle and on the other side of the wall, where the northern courtyard sat. But in here, all was silent and still, and not a soul was to be seen.

The she-child held the sphere high in the air and raised her voice. "Is this yours?" she called, figuring the owner of such a fine plaything would want it back.

For a few seconds, she waited with bated breath. And then, out of her peripheral vision, she saw the slightest of movements near one of the labyrinth's multiple reflecting pools.

With a concealed grin Annabeth stood up, walked over to the shallow, round pool, and sat down on its flat edge. Hiding behind the pool was a child she had never seen before. Knowing all the faces of the castle, the young princess assumed he was most likely the son of a visiting baron, judging by his well-made clothes. The boy was perhaps eight summers and falls with choppy hair the color of wet acorns, teeth that were adorably crooked, and a pair of the biggest eyes she's ever seen.

The young princess presented the toy for the third time. "I presume this belongs to you?" she said softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn't seem the sort to own such a well-made trinket, but there was no other candidate around.

The boy nodded shyly from behind the bench and stuck out his hands. She noticed his palms were nearly the size of her whole head as she passed the toy back.

"Thank you," he mumbled, taking the ball.

Annabeth waited for him to say more, but now that his prize had been returned safe and sound, he seemed perfectly content to sit in silence. Mentally shrugging, Annabeth let herself relax and stare up at the sky once more.

From here the clouds looked like stallions galloping across a field of blue and Annabeth was just about to comment on it when the child broke the silence.

"I sorry I scared you," he said in a hushed tone.

"It's alright," Annabeth said at once.

The boy was blinking up at her, seemingly infatuated with her hair. "You are pretty."

Annabeth grimaced. So I've been told, she wanted to say. That's all I ever hear. How good I look. But instead, she said: "Thank you..."

Awkward silence and staring.

"I'm Annabeth."

He flashed her a toothy grin. "I is—"

"TYSON!"

The child's face lit up when a second boy came rushing around the corner of the maze. When he was close enough, the child all but leaped out from behind the pool and flung himself into the newcomer's arms.

The boy automatically caught the child and scooped him up, anxiety and fear radiating off him in waves.

"Don't you ever run off on me like that again," he said sternly, back facing Annabeth. "We were searching all over for you, thinking you had wandered off and got yourself lost!"

"I not lost," Tyson said stubbornly. "And I happy to be gone."

The boy playfully poked the child in the cheek. "I shouldn't think you'd be so happy to've been gone if Smelly Gabe had received word of your disappearance. You know he doesn't want you wandering around alone."

"I is not alone." Tyson proudly jabbed a finger over the boy's shoulder. "I with her."

The boy turned around and suddenly a familiar pair of green eyes were falling upon the princess.

"Annabeth?" he breathed, face lighting up.

Annabeth waved, grinning ear from ear. "Hello, stranger."

Lord Perseus Jackson beamed as bright as the sun and bounded over to her. "It really is you."

"It really is me," she laughed. "My gods, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you... that was, what, almost a whole summer ago?"

"Aye," Perseus said. He whistled through his teeth. "Wow... but you look the same."

"You as well."

And it was true, save for a few scattering of freckles that speckled his face and a some more inches that had grown on her hair.

The children smiled at each other like fools until Tyson impatiently tugged on Perseus's ear. Chuckling, Perseus bent down and place the child on the ground. Tyson tottered off to the opposite side of the pool to occupy himself with dunking the ball into the water.

"He's my family's ward," Perseus explained almost shyly. If Annabeth didn't know better he seemed a little embarrassed, and she couldn't fathom why. "He was left on our doorstep so my mother decided to take him in."

"He's an adorable child," she said genuinely. She patted the pool's edge. "Sit with me."

"Right away, m'lady."

"Don't call me that," she said as he took a seat.

"Why not?"

"You sound like all the other people at court, vying for my favor."

"What shall I call you, then?"

"My name will suffice."

He snorted. "Everyone uses your name. I want something special. You call me Percy instead of Perseus. It seems only fair that I should be able to do the same... Princess."

Annabeth was taken by surprise, which seemed to be a common effect he had on her. "Everyone uses Princess as well," she managed.

He playfully nudged her arm. "Then I shall have to be creative and think of something else."

She sent him a sly smile. "Don't think too hard, now. We don't want you developing a headache."

Perseus opened his mouth, blinked a few times, let out a hearty laugh.

Annabeth hadn't realized how easy it was to banter and bicker and talk with him before, and she found she rather liked it.

"Will you be attending the Solstice Ball?" she asked.

"Not this year, I'm afraid. Smelly Gabe— I mean the Baron — wants me to start my swordcraft and weaponry training. I'm to start in two days' time, no exceptions, not even a ball."

She arched a brow. "Smelly Gabe?"

"Ah, yes... it's what Tyson and I call the Baron behind his back. The man reeks something nasty, so I should think it seems rather fitting."

The young princess remembered the Baron quite well. From even a mile away the man had oozed unpleasantness and Percy had been hellbent on keeping a distance that rivaled the sea between them during the Ball. Annabeth had noticed how the Baron watched them like a hawk all evening long, not at all liking their friendship, and she recalled quite clearly the stories of how he mistreated the Baroness, so it wasn't surprising the man would take measures to keep them apart.

That still didn't mean Percy's absence wasn't disappointing. Annabeth had been looking forward to spending time with him once again this summer.

"I didn't know sons of barons could refuse the invitation of the royal family," she said lightly.

The Baron's son smiled bitterly. "It appears that I'm special."

Annabeth frowned at this but did not press, opting instead to say, "You never answered my question."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "I didn't? Goodness me. That must be high treason."

"At least ten lashings and a night in the stocks."

Their laughs mingled and soared.

He quieted. "What was the question?"

"How are you and how have you been."

The boy thought for a moment and sighed deeply.

"Please don't feel obligated to answer," she began.

"No, no," he said. "I just... I don't know where to start."

"Try at the very beginning. I hear it's a very good place to start."

He snorted. "As the Princess commands."

He opened his mouth.

"HELLO? HELLO?"

And for the second time that day, someone came charging into the clearing.

The young Princess and the Baron's son shot up like arrows loosed from a bow as Triton Celaeno came stumbling into the clearing, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His clothes were wrinkled, his flaxen hair was dripping with sweat, and his eyes, the same color as Percy's, were wild and frantic.

"Prince Triton," Annabeth said, not believing her eyes or her luck, which had turned from fortunate to unfortunate within a blink of an eye.

The prince, who looked greatly flustered and agitated, looked up and squinted at her. "Princess," he finally mustered between breaths. "Thank the gods—" pant "—I have found you. I was turned all around—" pant "—in that horrid maze. I was—" pant "—nearly about to give up."

Perseus coughed into his fist, not-so-subtlety concealing a laugh.

Triton, seeing this, straightened at once and scowled. "Jackson," he sniffed. He vainly attempted to smooth down his rumpled clothes.

Perseus stiffened, all traces of warmth and kindness vanishing in a flash. "Your Highness," he said, offering a shallow bow.

The prince humphed and turned to Annabeth. "You ought to have someone with you, Princess. Servants... attendants... chaperones..." his eyes slide back to the Baron's son, who bristled at the implication.

"I can handle being alone just fine," Annabeth said in a clipped tone, wondering why exactly the prince was here. "I know how to defend myself quite well with both a sword and a dagger. As for a chaperone, we wouldn't need one but if we did, Tyson has been with us the entire time."

"Tyson?" Triton scoffed. "That creature is the least suitable to serve as anything, never mind a chaperone. I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't read or write his own name. Oh, wait..."

Perseus tensed by her side, which Triton picked up on immediately. His grin reminded her of a bloodhound on a scent. "Did Jackson tell how we met, Princess?"

"No," said Annabeth, not liking where this conversation was going at all.

"Our families joined on the road a few sleeps back. Over the past few days we have traveled together, allowing me the opportunity to learn many things about Jackson and his little family. One of them being that little Tyson here is completely illiterate, and he's seen, what, nine summers and falls? How truly remarkable is that?"

Perseus curled his hands into fists and his face clouded with fury, but he couldn't do much else. Striking a royal was treasonous and could cost him his life.

Tyson, having heard his name, wandered over and was waving his ball around excitedly. Triton, much like Annabeth had a few moments before, honed in immediately on the skill and talent of the toy's craftsmanship.

Quick as a hare, he plucked the sphere from the child's grip. At sixteen summers and falls, he stood as tall as a mountain and easily held the ball out of Tyson's reach for examination.

"What on earth is this?"

"That belongs to him," Perseus said flatly.

Triton grinned, a dark look on his face. "You're telling me this belongs to him? Do you take me for a fool?"

Tyson stamped his foot. "Mine!" he screeched, waving his hands in the air.

Triton laughed and held the ball higher. "Princess, do you see? The little monster is riled!"

"Return the ball," Annabeth said gravely. Although they were of the same ranking, Annabeth lawfully had the higher authority. They were in her kingdom, after all. But she was also younger and shorter and a girl, and like most people, Triton did not take to receiving orders from younger, shorter girls very well.

The prince sneered and casually tossed the ball in one hand. "I don't think I shall. I rather like the way it looks, the way it feels... never in all my life have I seen such craftsmanship before. I think I want to keep it."

"Not yours!" Tyson shrieked.

"Tyson," said Perseus, watching the prince just as wearily as Annabeth. "It is but a toy. We can easily replace it."

"MINE!"

Triton pulled out a small, ivory dagger and tauntingly held the tip to the wooden surface. "Perhaps I should cut it open. See if the insides are as pretty as the outsides."

With a cry, Tyson rushed forward. He hurled his full weight at the prince, knocking them both to the ground, and began to throw punches in an abandoned frenzy.

"Tyson!" Perseus cried, although it sounded more like a cheer than a reprimand. The Baron's son stepped forward and half-heartedly tried to pull the little boy off.

Triton shrieked to the high heavens and threw up his arms in defense. One hand grappled with air, and one hand blindly arched. Before anybody had the chance to react, steel was meeting skin in a horrific crash.

Tyson wailed and fell backward, clutching his face in agony. Annabeth's heart nearly stopped as she rushed forward to gather Tyson in her arms.

"Shhh, shhh," she murmured as the little boy cried.

Perseus was shouting and hauling the shocked prince to his feet.

Blood poured from Tyson's eye and trickling in rivers down his cheek. It was painful to even look at and she fought the urge to glance away. It seemed that Annabeth just couldn't escape blood today.

"What is wrong with you?" Perseus was shouting, shoving the prince in the chest. "That is his eye!"

Annabeth swallowed as she began to rip the hem of the gown. She had to stop the bleeding. She had to stop trembling.

"Perseus," she said over Tyson's harsh sobs as she pressed the scrapes of cloth to his face.

"He is a child! A child!" Percy bellowed.

"Perseus."

"I go home!" Tyson sobbed. "I want Mama!"

"I know you do," Annabeth murmured in a controlled panic. So do I.

"He can't get another eye! What the hell are you thinking?"

"PERSEUS!" Annabeth hollered.

The two boys looked at her.

"He needs a physician," she said shakily. "Now."

Fear was evident in Percy's eyes but he didn't let it rule him as he scooped Tyson up. "Lead the way," he said hoarsely.

Annabeth rose on wobbly legs and sent a glare at Triton that was so ferocious, so fierce, the prince had no choice but to follow them out of the maze.

"What's happened?" Asclepius exclaimed as three children rushed up to him in a corridor, two of them royals and one of them carrying the limp, bloody body of a child.

"He fell upon a dagger while playing in the labyrinth," Triton said at once with all the confidence that had evaporated during Tyson's assault. "Poor child's screams could be heard a mile away."

The old man rolled up the sleeves of his billowy robes and tilted Tyson's head in his hands. A moan tore from the child's throat as Annabeth's makeshift bandages were pried away from his face.

"Fell, did you say?" Asclepius said disbelievingly.

Percy opened his mouth but the prince shot him a dark glare, and Annabeth silently shook her head as as well. It would look terrible if a lowly noble contradicted the word of the crowned prince.

"Can you help him?" Annabeth asked instead, ignoring the injured look Perseus was now sending her.

The physician clucked his tongue and shook his head. "This is a very complicated injury, Your Highness. The blade cut through all the way to the bone and there are pieces that seem to have broken off. I wouldn't be surprised if he loses his eye at best... but I shall do whatever I can."

Annabeth's breath hitched, the thought had not even occurred to her. "Do your best. Whatever it takes."

Asclepius waved his hand and said, "Come with me, quickly."

Percy hurried after him down the corridor with Annabeth right beside him. "Why are you going along?" he mumbled.

"Triton is a prince."

"And you are a princess."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. Challenging his word would be a grave insult to him and his family. The relationship between our kingdoms has always been turbulent. I cannot give our parents a reason to quarrel — not when they've just declared peace. And besides, Tyson is just a ward," she said, hating the truth of the fact. "If he was the son of a royal or a higher noble it would be an entirely different matter, but—"

"But no one cares about the children of peasants," Perseus seethed.

Annabeth sighed and felt her shoulders sag as if they were ladened down by a great weight. This day was not at all turning out how she would have thought.

"You'll be doing more harm than good by calling more attention to this. I hate to say it, but the best way to go about this is to keep your head down and get him away from Triton as soon as possible. Asclepius is the best physician in the kingdom. Tyson couldn't be in better hands."

The physician stopped in front of a door and unlocked it with a large set of keys. "In you go." He ushered Percy and Tyson into the room and swept in after them.

Annabeth paused when she saw that the prince was still at the end of the corridor. Frowning, she retraced her steps so that they stood face to face.

"If and when that boy wakes up you are going to give him the sincerest apology of your life," she told the prince.

Triton's eyes, identical to Percy's in color but darker in shade, narrowed into tiny slits. "One does not talk to a Celaeno in such a manner," he spat.

Annabeth fixed him with a stare that could rival her mother's. "One does not prey on innocents in my realm."

Had the young princess stayed seconds longer she would've seen Triton's attractive features twisting into something sinister, but she had already whirled around and was marching down the corridor, giving him no choice but to bite his tongue and follow.

Fun facts!

1. Triton's character is inspired by prince Joffrey Baratheon from Game of Thrones and if you haven't seen the tv show or read the books just know that Joffrey is a sadistic and cruel little shit.

2. I wanted Tyson to have one eye as tribute to the PJO series. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out if he was a cyclops from the beginning or if something more sinister befell him that caused him to lose the eye.