A very rough outline of the daily schedule of a royal medieval child:
MORNING-
. wake up and dress with the help of servants
. attend prayers or mass, eat a private breakfast
. attend more prayers or mass
. have lessons that are tailored to gender literature for girls, military for boys (sometimes sisters were better read than their brothers!).
AFTERNOON-
. eat dinner (aka lunch) in the Great Hall
. take part in charity, state, and social functions (such as meeting with councilors and advisors, foreign diplomats, or potential spouses, picnicking with the poor)
. attend more prayers or mass.
EVENING-
. eat supper in the Great Hall
. indulge in leisure time activities (such as hunting, hawking, hiking, music, art, dance, poetry, needlework, reading, training, etc.)
. attend more prayers or mass
. finally prepare and go to bed (with the assistance of servants, of course).
EXTRA-
. Handfasting: handfasting depending on the country and the time period, was the pagan equivalent to a wedding. The officiate would wrap ribbons around the couple's hands to symbolize their unity, and the different ribbon colors would have a different meaning. The significance and validity of handfasting changed throughout history (sometimes it was considered to be a proposal or a betrothal, sometimes it was accepted as an official wedding, sometimes it was a union for eloping couples that wasn't acknowledged by the church or law, etc.) but its always been generally a symbol of marriage/wedding/unity.
In this story, I use handfasting as a synonym for marriage, much like they do in Game of Thrones.
Fourteen Summers and Falls
The princess Athena stood in the Great Hall, flocked on all sides by several members of King Zeus's council and court, and nobility and royalty from neighboring lands. The castle was brimming to the very top of the tower turrets with visitors and guests and travelers for tomorrow eve's Winter Solstice Ball, and they all scrambled like hogs to the slop for the ear of the lady who was currently staring straight into Annabeth's soul.
Adorning a brilliant smile, the young princess picked up her winter skirts and waded her way through the milling visitors. Princess Athena stood ramrod straight, a beacon of silver and lavender in a sea of muted reds, golds, and browns. Upon her head sat her faithful polished circlet and upon her lips lay her faithful polite smile, but in her eyes was the promise of death.
When Annabeth finally stood before her lady mother, Athena ended her conversation with King Hades, her uncle and neighboring monarch, before turning to her daughter with a reproachful stare.
"You're late."
The young princess forced her feet to remain rooted where they were as she gathered her words in what she hoped was a dignified manner. "I fear I overslept. My sincerest apologies, Mother."
While Athena kept her features well-controlled, Annabeth could tell her lady mother was displeased. It was evident in the oh-so-slightest pinching of her lips.
"I suppose I should be thankful I'm even blessed by your fleeting presence at all. More and more often I find the day has nearly passed and gone and it'll be coming upon shadows and prayers before I am granted a glimpse of you."
Annabeth felt the sting of her nails piercing her palms as she bit the inside of her lip. It was true that she has grown more rebellious, adventurous, and independent over the past summer and fall. Never once did she shirk her lessons or training or the truly important things, but she found herself caring less and less about the concerns of Athena, who is a parent who is more stranger than mother, who is a monarch who is blinded by duty and ambition, who is a woman who unleashes hell upon a fellow woman after everything had already been lost.
But Annabeth could not say this in a room brimming with guests, nor could she say this to the emptiest, sparest chamber that this castle had. And so she bit her tongue and apologized once more.
Athena sighed. "At least you're presentable." She turned on her heel and said, "Come with me. I want you to speak with some people."
"Who?" Annabeth trailed her mother through the crowd of mingling bodies.
Athena twisted ever so slightly and declared behind her: "King Poseidon and his son."
King Poseidon and his son.
Annabeth came to a startling halt and just scarcely avoided barreling into the back of a noble lady. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly, preparing for a storm.
But the noble lady only gave her a sweet smile. Her eyes looked as warm as a quilt and seemed to sparkle in the sun. "No harm was done, my dear," she said kindly, and graciously stepped aside.
The young princess caught up to her mother. Without fully thinking, she placed a hand on her mother's arm. "Triton? I am to speak with Triton?"
Princess Athena stared at her hand as if it was some foreign concept. Annabeth realized with an abrupt shock that between them, between mother and daughter, between women, family, and blood, touch was a foreign concept.
"Indeed," Athena said crisply. "Triton Celaeno wishes to speak with you — even in the wake of that little stunt you pulled last winter. I suppose we have the gods to thank for his continuous interest."
Annabeth was too distressed to bristle or blush at the quip. She took back her hand and used it to smooth her skirt. "It wasn't my intention to jilt him last winter. I truly and honestly forgot. It was late, I was fatigued, I fell asleep, the end."
Now, this was true. Not the falling asleep part (she had been stargazing with Percy in the labyrinth when she should have been attempting at painful conversations with Triton in the ballroom) but she was being entirely honest about the forgetting-all-about-him bit.
Athena craned her head, gray eyes scanning faces in the crowd. "Intentional or not, you made us all look the fool. Yourself, your father, your brothers, me. Your actions not only reflect who you are but the crown and our kingdom, as well."
"I understand," the young princess muttered, for when was anything ever just about her?
Athena arched her brow. "Do you?"
And she wonders why she sees so little of me. Annabeth frowned and went to speak.
Athena gave her a mirthless smile. "Careful, darling, people are staring."
Annabeth snapped her mouth shut and stewed in silence, as she so often did when speaking with her mother. Speaking with Athena often felt as though one was talking to a god herself. Athena was always in the right and it was always Annabeth who needed an explanation and change of heart, mind, attitude, or all three combined.
Princess Athena's eyes lit up. "Here they come. Behave yourself."
And then, just like a nightmare, the Celaenos appeared.
"Athena, we warmly thank you for your gracious invitation," King Poseidon said without much warmth.
"Poseidon, it was our utmost pleasure," Athena said without much pleasure.
The king, who seemed grayer and sterner since she last set eyes upon him, shifted his stormy gaze towards Annabeth. He took in her new height and smiled almost wistfully; almost as if he was recalling his fondest memory. "You've grown so tall, my dear."
Annabeth gave him a pained smile. Why must adults always comment on her height? "It is good to see you again," she said. "It's been some time since we last spoke."
"Aye, that it has. Too long, if you'll forgive me." Poseidon glanced over his shoulder and beckoned impatiently.
Those hands are wet with the blood of innocents, Annabeth thought. A chill stole through her and it took all she had to not back away. Those hands have hurt beyond imagination. Those are hands of a king, hands of a rapist.
A handsome young man stepped forward. He was smartly dressed, cleanly shaven, and had flaxen hair that was tied neatly in the back.
"Princess," Triton greeted in a new voice, deep voice, a man's voice. He extended his hand so that he could kiss her's.
Annabeth gave the stiffest nod in all of history and kept her hands planted firmly at her sides. "Your Highness. A delight."
The terrible flash of his eyes did not escape her notice.
To her left, Athena laughed abashedly. "I must ask how you fared the journey," she said, attempting to save what her daughter was words away from destroying.
Poseidon grunted. "There's not much to report.
"I've heard the roads have been horrendous in all these storms."
"There's nothing a few strong steeds can pull through, snow and ice included."
Athena's eyes could turn a man into stone and Annabeth almost felt sorry for the king. Almost.
"I am gladdened to see you again," the young girl heard the youngest Celaeno say.
Reluctantly, she turned her attention upon him. He was clothed in heavy winter furs and boots and draped across his chest was a sash with the Celaeno crest—a golden conch shell—embroidered into the fancy fabric. Around his shoulders flowed a crimson cloak and at his hip was a sword in a sheath.
"And I you," Annabeth replied automatically, unable to draw herself away from the sword.
Boys wearing swords wasn't an uncommon sight to behold. Malcolm himself was granted a sword on his fifteenth nameday, as most wealthy young men were. But just because it was common it didn't mean she liked the sight of Triton with one. Everybody knows that a sword can do far more damage than a simple dagger, and that thought unnerved her greatly.
Triton followed her gaze and immediately swelled with pride. He laid a heavy hand on the hilt of the weapon. "Beautiful, isn't she? I had her commissioned last month. I call her Mortal's Bane."
Beautiful it was, as well as unsettling.
"Tell me about your home," she said instead, forcing herself to peel her eyes away from the blade.
He blinked at the non sequitur. "As you wish. What would like to know?"
Annabeth desperately searched for a thought. "I can only imagine the trials your fishermen must endure with the snow and the frost and the ice. How do they navigate the frozen waters and the recession in netted catches? How do they compensate for the damage to their ships and supplies? How can they tell when a storm is coming and when it's safest to sail out into deeper waters?"
Triton swallowed and opened and closed his mouth much like the fish his people so famously provided. His face was a comical combination of bafflement and shock. She would bet her life and all her brothers' lives that he had not a single reply to any of her simple inquires.
Annabeth smiled smugly into the silence and she could practically feel her mother's seething glare burning her to ash. But then, Poseidon threw his head back and a seismic laugh erupted from his throat.
Athena shifted uneasily as several conversations halted and faltered. The king was not known for his jolliness.
"Why don't you further enlighten me about this new weapon of yours—a trident, you called it?—and let us leave the children to converse among themselves."
Please do not say yes, Annabeth thought as the king mulled this offer over. But luck apparently was nowhere to be found this morning, or if it was it certainly wasn't on her side. With a weary nod, Poseidon and Athena went trotting off, and then it was just she and Triton.
The young man began to step without waiting and Annabeth had no choice but to follow.
"You've become quite beautiful," he said offhandedly.
They walked through the doors of the Great Hall and turned left down a drafty passageway. Annabeth did her best to appear fascinated with the cracks in the walls.
"Aren't you going to return the compliment?"
To her horror, Annabeth heard herself saying, "You're rather beautiful as well."
One would have thought she just confessed having a child out of wedlock or described her underclothes in great lengths, or some other horrendous, inappropriate scandal, going by the expression on the young man's face.
The young princess had to look away. Of course, he wouldn't have found that amusing. He probably didn't have a humorous bone in his body.
Who would? that little voice whispered.
She knew who would. And who has.
They rounded a corner and went through a second set of doors that led them to a courtyard. Annabeth's eyes immediately stung as a frigid wind lashed out. Their breaths could be seen curling in the air by their noses.
She heard Triton shuffle closer and she stiffened, keeping her eyes firmly pinned on the horizon ahead.
"Last winter I called upon you. It was to my utter surprise and great offense to being greeted with absence and air all night. Whatever did keep your attention that entire evening, Princess?"
Great clouds rolled over the hills as displeased words washed over the girl. The air swirled with promises of snow and danger.
"You must excuse me," the princess said between her teeth, "I fell asleep."
A bark of harsh laughter escaped him. "You see, I don't believe that. One of the many servants that were sent to your chambers would've mentioned a slumbering princess I should think, and yet, not a single report was made on such a matter whenever you were asked after."
Shit.
She had no answer to this and he knew this. She stole a look at him out of the corner of her eye. When she found him staring at her she quickly glanced away.
"I am willing to forgive your insolence," he continued haughtily, sticking his nose in the air. "I must remember that you have seen fewer summers and falls than I and that you are still quite young. I must remember my patience."
Insolence? Patience? She wanted to punch him in his infuriating, patronizing, insolent face.
"How old are you again?"
"Fourteen summers and falls," she told him in a clipped manner.
"Mmm." He nodded. "My seventeenth name day was last autumn."
"Good for you," she muttered.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" she snapped.
His eyes darkened and he stepped far too close for her liking. He was invading her personal space. He put an arm on both sides of her body, caging her between him and the castle wall. But unlike a caged animal, the she-child refused to show fear.
"I won't have a wife with an impertinent tongue." He clicked impatiently. "We'll have to do something about that."
Wife? Now it was Annabeth who was gaping like a fish.
Triton Celaeno took pleasure in this. He was the kind of boy who reveled in fear and pain and wicked things.
The children stood so close that the prince had to tilt his head down to grin at her in a stomach-lurching fashion. "They haven't told you yet? Oh, how odd... how very odd indeed..."
"Told me what?" Annabeth demanded.
She pressed a palm against his chest to push him away. She took comfort in knowing that she could do him some serious harm if need be, but she was reluctant to turn towards violence if the situation did not call for it. He was an ass, but a royal ass. Even if her own royal title offered the protection that no peasant girl could dream of, men always fared better than women when it came to a he-said-she-said scenario. If Annabeth initiated a scene, chances are that he would walk away free and she would be left as the one facing the consequences.
Triton's hands shot out, catching her by surprise. He grabbed her wrist in a bruising manner and offered her a cold, triumphant grin.
"We are to be wed, you and I."
Annabeth did not hear much after that. Her mind was still stuck on the word. Wed. She and Triton? Together? She wanted to double over and shriek with laughter. Hell would sooner freeze over before Athena consented to the union of her daughter and the spawn of Poseidon, her long-time component, rival, and rapist. Triton jested, surely.
"The affairs have all been settled," Triton said. His breath was uncomfortably hot on her face. "The handfasting would've already been done by now if not for your father's insistence on waiting for your seventeenth name day. An unnecessary inconvenience, but my father agreed. We are already promised, so he supposed there'd be no harm in a small delay. Still, the suspense and your little slight have made me terribly unhappy. I believe you owe me an apology, Princess."
Anger folded the she-child's lips in a scowl. Triton's claims made no sense and she didn't trust his word for a second. Her parents would have come to her and consulted her on a matter of such importance. She knew this because they had sworn to do so when the marriage offers and proposals began to flood in after her twelfth name day.
"I apologize for the miscommunication, Triton Celaeno." Annabeth slammed her heel onto his foot and pushed him with as much force she could muster. He released her and went stumbling back on his butt.
"There has never been an arranged union between you and me. I would have been informed if there was, and I would refuse to the day I die."
His eyes blazed with fury as he hopped on one foot in an undignified manner. "You little bitch!" he hissed. "We are to be wed! And when we are you will regret what you have—"
She put up a hand, silently seething. She didn't know who was angrier at that moment.
"Is that a threat?" she whispered, almost wishing that it was.
Triton paused. They both knew threatening a royal was never taken lightly, and threatening her, on her lands, was no trivial matter.
"Of course not," he finally spat, "T'was a mere response to an insult on my honor."
She wanted to scoff and say what honor?
The prince stood and straightened his clothes. He took a moment to gather his composure. "I speak the truth, Princess. You may not like my words very much, but they are spoken with clarity and honesty."
Annabeth scoffed and turned.
"Just ask your parents!" Triton shouted, but she was already hurrying away.
"Is something troubling you?" Malcolm inquired carefully, watching the young princess set her fifth dummy into place. The other four were scattered across the training field in small clumps of hay and straw.
"Sister?"
Annabeth settled into a lunge and shifted her feet upon the icy ground. "No."
"Are you certain?"
She raised her sword. "Quite."
Malcolm looked skeptical. "Really?"
"I've fine," she growled.
She charged at the dummy with all her might. Straw and hay rained down on her, crystal evidence of her not being as fine as she claimed.
He waited for her to finish before saying again, "Really?"
"Will you leave me be?!" she exclaimed, waving around her sword.
He held up his hands in surrender. "You asked me here. Forgive me if I wish to know why."
The young princess sucked in a guilty breath and pushed a sweaty tendril of hair from her brow. She was exhausted, hungry, and her mood was foul, but the fault of that did not rest with her brother. We're training she had told him in a voice that left no room for argument and had dragged him from the library with no room for objections. Malcolm hadn't said a word of protest until now, and he didn't deserve her fury.
"Triton Celaeno is an asshole," she grumbled. "That is all."
"You said a bad word!"
Annabeth glared at the little boy who was sitting on the fringes of the field.
"I'll tell Mother!" the boy said gleefully. At seven summers and falls the little devil was practically a living, breathing portrait of their father when he was a young lad. The boy was all dark, floppy hair and dark, mischievous eyes, and was identical in appearance and spirit to his twin brother.
Annabeth rolled her eyes and ruffled Matthew's hair in the way she knew he despised. She could only wonder where his other half was, or what he was doing. "Your words hold no weight, little brother."
Malcolm touched her forearm, alarm etched all over his face. At seventeen summers and falls he was no longer a boy and the distress that rolled off him was that of a young man's. "You saw Scale Tale?"
Annabeth sighed and rubbed her wrist, grateful to have the winter season as an excuse to wear gloves. Otherwise, she would be forced to make an excuse for the bruises. "Woefully, yes. Mother practically forced him upon me this morning."
His eyebrows vanished into his hairline. "Mother?"
"Aye." She rolled her eyes. "You know how she adores her parties and her small talk. Unfortunately for me, she succeeded in trapping me in said small talk with King Poseidon and his as—" Mathew giggled, "—slime ball of a son."
Annabeth stuck her tongue out at Matthew, who made the face right back at her.
"The King was here as well?" Malcolm said, face gone pale.
"Are you having trouble hearing?" she snapped. "Both father and son were—are—currently on our grounds as we speak. I had to chat with both of them this morning."
Malcolm shook his head in disbelief. "I thought they declined," he murmured under his breath. "I was certain... they said..."
Annabeth stared at him. "What on earth is wrong with you?"
Mathew giggled manically. "Mal's gone mad."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, he already was. It's just showing now."
"ANNIEBETH!"
Malcolm's hand flew to the hilt of his sword. A stocky figure lumbered over the hill and rushed down to their lonesome little training field. Annabeth's hand flew up to halt her brother as the newcomer barreled into her at full force, nearly knocking all the wind from her body.
"Hey there Tyson," she panted as she returned the hug with slightly less enthusiasm. "It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"
"Been so long since last bye bye!" Tyson beamed up at her with one eye. The other was concealed by a fabric patch.
The she-child turned, arms full of boy. "Tyson, I want you to meet my brothers. Malcolm, Matthew, this is Tyson, a ward of the Northern Baron."
Malcolm took his hand off his sword and gave the boy a friendly wave. Matthew stared and said, "What's wrong with your eye?"
"Matthew!" Annabeth hissed, wishing her brother didn't have such a knack for making first impressions.
"Lost it," Tyson said simply.
"Why?"
"Wouldn't let him take my ball."
Tyson smiled and tugged on Annabeth's wrist, unaware of Annabeth's wincing. "I have present for you!" He produced a slender object from the depths of his cloak and pressed it into her hands. "Open!"
It took her a few attempts to unwrap the cloth. It would've been easier without gloved fingers, but she wasn't about to expose her wrists. When she wrangled the package free of the cloth she found a beautiful dagger sparkling up at her under the winter sun. Much like the ball that had cost him his eye, this piece of craftsmanship was unparalleled to any other blade she had ever seen.
Annabeth swallowed as she tested the weight of the weapon in her hand. It fit perfectly.
"You like?" Tyson said hopefully.
She forced herself to speak, tearing her eyes away from the blade. "No," she forced out.
His face fell.
She grinned wildly. "I love it!"
He giggled loudly and she pulled him in to a one-armed hug.
"TYYYYYYSOOOOON."
Malcolm's hand flew back on his hilt as Matthew said, "What was that?"
Annabeth sighed. "The question isn't what," she said without looking. "It's who. Who was that?"
"We really need to stop meeting like this," Percy panted, hand on his heaving chest. He was breathing heavier than a bull after a twenty mile chase.
"Why so tired?" Annabeth said innocently.
He looked at her incredulously. "That was a very steep hill I just ran down!"
"That little thing? 'Tis barely a slope!" she scoffed. It was so good to stand in his presence again, to barter and banter without a thought. "Look at me! The breath hasn't even left me, and I've been training for the better part of the morning."
And look at her he did. Her cheeks warmed as his eyes, sea green as ever, flicked over her. His stare made her uncomfortable but it was a different kind of uncomfortable—a whole other unknown and uncharted sensation in it itself—then the feeling she normally acquired when men and boys looked at her.
His own cheeks were tinged as well, she noticed, but she couldn't decipher if it was from physical exertion or something else.
He open his mouth several times. "You look—"
"Do not say beautiful."
"—like hell," he finished.
Annabeth blinked. "I—"
Her hair was falling out of her braid, her face was most likely red and sweaty, and the tunic and breeches she wore for training had pieces of hay and straw stocking to them. There was no doubt in her mind that the ladies at court would surly faint if they saw her in such a state.
"Indeed," she said.
"I like him," Malcolm commented.
Percy jumped and bent courteously at the waist, cheeks aflame. It wasn't every day a lowborn addressed a highborn so casually. Annabeth knew he was replaying their warmer-than-stranger exchange with regret, and she wished it wasn't so. She didn't want their friendship to be thought of with shame or regret. This was one of the truest and dearest things she had that she could call her very own.
"My warmest greetings, Your Highness."
Malcolm stuck out a hand. "You're taller than I remember you to be."
And he was. All of them seemed to have shot up since they last saw each other, and with their additional height came an even greater loss of childhood youth and the gaining of budding curves and sharpening angles.
"And you're shorter than I remember you to be," Percy said, accepting the hand in a shake.
"That I am," Malcolm grinned, who stood only a mere inches taller.
Unsatisfied with the lack of introductions, Matthew stamped his foot and put his hands on his hips. "He-llo. Who are you?" he demanded.
Percy was bowing once more. "Perseus Jackson, Your Highness. My sword is yours to command."
Matthew eyed him suspiciously.
"What do you say?" Annabeth prompted. He rolled his eyes at her. She wanted to smack him for his insolence.
"My sister called Triton Celaeno an asshole."
Annabeth's brows shot up. She was not expecting that.
She glanced at Percy, wondering how he would react. Percy only snorted and said, "Like that's news."
Malcolm clapped him heartily on the back. He let out a booming laugh that he must've gotten from their grandfather because Frederick never laughed boomingly and Athena hardly laughed at all. "I'm liking this fellow more and more by the minute."
Matthew cocked his head and spoke with the honesty of a child. "Your hair is ugly."
By the gods. Annabeth bit her lip. Was nothing in this world simple? Did her brothers exist only to torment her? If so, they were all doing a spectacular job.
Percy laughed and ran a hand through his hair. It was much shorter than last year and evident that he had hacked it all off. She wasn't going to comment about it but she did have to agree that it was not his best look.
"My mother thinks the same, but she's kind enough not to say so."
"And how fares your mother?" Annabeth asked quickly, eager to chance the subject. The last time they spoke, Percy had told her about the Baron's fondness of the gambling rings and his tendency to make Percy and his mother pay when things didn't end well (which they never did).
"She walks these very grounds as we speak," he answered. "Perhaps you'll cross paths sometime between today and tomorrow's eve."
"And the Baron?" Malcolm said, oblivious to the family troubles. "I presume he is here as well?"
Percy concealed his scowl well. "Aye."
Bells chimed in the distance, signaling the noontime meal and prayers.
"Food!" Tyson exclaimed. He tugged impatiently on Percy's cloak and pointed in the direction of the castle. "Food!"
Percy gasped in feigned surprise, as if he hadn't heard the bells himself, as if he hadn't known it was mealtime. "You must excuse us, Your Highnesses. It seems food is of greater value than your esteemed company. You are invited to join us, of course, unless your time is otherwise occupied by your training..."
Malcolm shook his head ruefully, and Annabeth reluctantly followed, and the two slowly began to walk to the castle.
"Go with them," Malcolm urged. "Dinner should be soon and you have a skipped breakfast to account for. I'll fend off Mother should she come searching for you."
Annabeth sent him a grateful look. "You'd do that for me?"
Malcolm smirked. "Dear sister, what else am I good for?"
Matthew stomped his foot. "What about me?"
"Haven't you got some poor manservant to torture?" Malcolm asked.
"You're entirely welcomed to join us, Your Highness," Percy called, glancing at Annabeth for approval. He only smiled his infuriating, brilliant, stupidly enduring smile when she glared at him for eavesdropping.
Reluctantly, she nodded. While she didn't want her little brother trailing after them like an annoying, incessant shadow, she greater feared him running off to tell their mother about her friendship with the Baron's son before she could convince him to keep his silence.
"Why are we friends?" Annabeth asked, blinking into the sky.
After thinking for a moment, Percy shrugged beside her. "I haven't anyone better to share my time with."
She threw a snowball at him and he fell over, laughing. Tyson chortled next to her while Matthew simply continued to stuff his face with the bread Percy had snatched from the kitchens.
Rather than run into potential parents and princes in the Great Hall, the four of them decided to take their meal in the garden where they would be safe from prying eyes. This is where they were now, perched on the rim of a frozen reflecting pool that seemed to have become their spot.
Initially it had been a good idea to eat outside, but now they were all a little damp and very cold. That didn't stop them from having a good time, however.
"In truth, though," she said.
His face screwed up in thought. "Near or far, you're the best company I keep."
Heat blossomed through her core. "Care to elaborate?"
He gave her a lopsided grin. "You're really fishing for compliments today, aren't you?"
"You'd do the same in a heartbeat and you know it," she shot back.
Percy laughed. "Touché."
The rolling clouds finally opened and gifted them with the long-promised snowfall. Tyson stuck out his hand and caught a snowflake. "Cold!" he happily exclaimed. He ran up and tugged on Percy's cloak. "Look! It's so cold!"
Matthew paused long enough from his food to look at Tyson and say, "Every snowflake is different. Did you know that?"
Annabeth stared at her little brother. She had told him that last night but she didn't think he was listening, partially because he was making shadow puppets on the wall and partially because he said, "I'm not listening."
Tyson's eyes grew wide. "Woah. That's a lotta differences."
Matthew shrugged almost sheepishly and went back to the white bread.
Annabeth nudged Percy's shoulder. "How many relationships have you seen that are solely built on honesty and affection, that are without any other gravitating force or motivation? I've seen two like that in my whole life. I used to think my parents placed in that category, and perhaps they once did, but that age has long since passed and died."
"I've seen three, perhaps," he said. "My mother claims she once tasted true love. It was fleeting and over all too soon, as it always is with these things, but the mere fact of it must count for something, surely?"
Annabeth recalled the tale Malcolm had told her all those nights ago, the tale about the Baroness and King Poseidon's scandalous affair, and she remembered the maiden he had ravaged, the maiden he had ruined, and she hoped with all her heart that mother and son didn't speak of the same man.
"Do you think we'll ever have the chance at that? True love, I mean?"
Percy looked uncomfortable. "I dunno."
She sighed and shook some snowflakes from her hair. "The time draws near for my handfasting. I don't want to, but marriage is as inevitable as the shifting of the seasons." She didn't know why she was talking about this or what she hoped to gain. She just knew that she had to get what was bothering her off her chest.
"I'm surprised you haven't been betrothed already," he said quietly. She couldn't understand the cadence of his voice.
She snorted. Screaming, crying, perfect storms... her parents knew their punishment would be such if they ever subjected her to such cruelty. It might be selfish and childish of her, but was it not her life they wanted to auction away? Should she not have a say in her own future?
"If I had the choice, I wouldn't wed for a good long while. There's too much to do and see and be that cannot be done and seen and accomplished when shackled in marriage."
Percy was silent and it made her stomach turn. Perhaps he was more of a traditionalist than she thought. Just because he cared little for chaperones and harmless party rules did not mean he wasn't a stickler for abandoning all tradition.
"There you go again," she said lightly. "Making me feel as if I've offended you somehow."
He rolled his eyes and threw some snow at her. "You need to grow a thicker skin, Wise Girl."
"Wise Girl?" she challenged. "Is that the name you promised me oh so long ago?"
He blushed. "It took a long time but I'm proud of it, alright?"
"Hey!" Matthew said, pointing. "Who's that?"
A hooded lady had entered the garden and was waiting in the snow. Percy stood immediately and hurried to her side. They shared an inaudible exchange of words, seemingly familiar by the way they leaned into each other when they spoke. She said something that Percy shook his head at and seemed to reply with a protest, but then he made a show of sighing in agreement.
Finally, Percy began to make his way back, the woman in tow. Annabeth quickly rose and brushed off her breeches, wishing she didn't look like a stablehand.
"This is the Baroness of the North," Percy announced when they were close enough, and the hooded figure curtseyed graciously. "This is Lady Sally Jackson... my mother."
"Your Highness," a gentle voice said, and slender hands pushed back the hood.
The kind woman with the warm eyes who Annabeth had nearly plowed down this morning in the Great Hall was staring at her in the snow.
"Lady Jackson," Annabeth said with surprise. "How nice it is to see you again."
"Wait, you've already met?" Percy said.
"It was but a brief encounter," Lady Jackson explained. She smiled at Annabeth. "I take delight in meeting you officially, Your Highness, and without having to collide to do so."
"Percy!!! He took my snowball!" Tyson wailed.
"I didn't take it!" Matthew retorted. "You gave!"
"One moment," Percy mumbled. Then he was running off to do damage control, leaving the young princess alone with his mother.
"I've heard much about you, Lady Jackson," Annabeth said as Percy planted himself between the two young boys. She hoped she didn't sound as awkward as she felt. But what did one say to the mother of a friend, a friend whom one probably shouldn't have? "Your writing is simply unparalleled to all other pieces, Percy says."
"That's very kind of you," Lady Jackson said. "And please, do call me Sally. From all the things my son has said about you, it would seem silly to be addressed by such a formality."
Annabeth couldn't help the surprised and happy, "Really?"
Sally's eyes twinkled in a way that made Annabeth instantly like her more. "Aye. I've heard many stories of you. I've heard how you helped young Tyson, how you rushed him to a physician, how you advocated for his treatment, how you covered his medical fees."
Annabeth shifted uncomfortably. "It was the very least I could do, Lady J—Sally. I couldn't give him another eye or change what happened for all the wealth in the world, so I was left with being able to do only that."
"A kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword."
Percy's mother had her son's smile, or the latter had the formal, and her eyes were a striking, beautiful blue: the color of a still sky on warm, summer days.
"Alright, I'm back," Percy said as he returned. "Tyson forget he'd let Matthew play with his stock of snowballs but it's all been smoothed over."
"I'm impressed you managed to talk Matthew off a ledge," Annabeth said. "There's usually no retreat from a tantrum once it's begun."
"That's one of my many talents," he grinned.
"One of his only," Sally put in, causing Annabeth to laugh "My dear, it was lovely meeting you. I must return before they find me gone, but I do hope we'll get to know each other more."
"I would love that," Annabeth confessed.
Sally smiled and turned to Percy. "I'll see you around, I presume. Stay out of trouble."
Percy rolled his eyes good naturally but let his mother kiss his brow.
"Come along, little one," she said, beckoning for Tyson, and together they left the snow-blanketed garden.
"How did you fancy my mother?" Percy asked when it was just the two of them. Matthew had run off out of boredom a while ago.
"We only met for a scant couple of minutes," the young princess began. And yet, within that brief meeting Sally had emanated an air about her; an air of maternity and love and security and comfort, an air that Athena never in Annabeth's whole life possessed.
"But I took a liking to her. She was kind and we got along well."
His face flooded with relief. "Good, I'm really glad, I feared you—" he broke off.
"Feared?" she repeated. "What did you fear?"
"Nothing!" he exclaimed in a tone that said it clearly wasn't nothing. "It's only... my mother is a lady but she was born a peasant. Highborn's don't always look kindly upon her and—"
"And you feared I would do the same," she finished, everything clicking into place. She found that she wasn't insulted by this confession, she was saddened. Saddened he lived in a world where he expected the worse of people.
"No! I mean, yes, it did cross my mind, but only for the briefest of moments," he rushed. "But I know you're not like that. You don't even blink around Tyson and you put up with me, so I know you're not like that at all. It was simply an irrational fear that I loathed to bring up because, as I said, it was totally irrational."
"Percy," she said, and he looked at her nervously. "I understand. Truly."
He sighed in relief and she was reminded of the last time they sat by this pool. It had been during the winter evening and they had sat under the stars, nearly freezing their noses off for a few precious hours.
"Annabeth," he said after a moment. He was staring at his lap. "I just wanted to say that this, uh, whatever this is, is really important to me, and uh..." He stuttered on for a bit, searching for the right words until she decided to give him a hard time.
"Pardon?" she said coyly. "Are you saying our friendship is important to you?"
"Er, yes," he blushed.
She scooted closer, enjoying the torture. "Are you saying my company is important to you?"
"Um, maybe?"
"Are you saying that I am the smartest, prettiest, grooviest person you've ever met?"
"Grooviest? Is that even a word?"
"So what if it's not? Am I?"
"Oh, you know what you are," he huffed and he leaned in to bump her playfully as they so often did.
But she, seized with sudden courage, a sudden frenzy, a sudden passion she couldn't explain (or perhaps it was sudden cowardice — she didn't know, didn't care), surged forward and met his mouth with hers.
It wasn't at all what was described in the ballads and the poems and the stories. It wasn't a world-stopping, earth-shattering, life-changing experience, and there weren't any epiphanies or euphoric bursts of love or light.
But her stomach tingled pleasantly as he cautiously kissed her back, her toes curled happily as they clumsily mimicked the other's movements, and they both laughed breathlessly when their lips fumbled for purchase. That was good enough for her.
She pulled away first, breathless, heart pounding.
His cheeks were flushed and his lips were red. Annabeth could only imagine what she looked like.
"That was..."
"Wow," he breathed.
A silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable silence that spoke of promises and laughter and sweet things to come.
"Again?" he suggested.
They both laughed and let their lips touch again.
But then there were footsteps and the sharp intakes of breath, and the prince consort who was shaking partially from fear, partially from fury, and partially from something she didn't understand, was standing over them.
He said, "What the hell?" and then everything shattered.