A/N: PLEASE ACCEPT MY LONG ASS CHAPTER AS AN APOLOGY FOR MY LONG ASS ABSENCE.
Okay, it's been a quick second since I posted on here. How are you? What's new? Please tell me how you are in the comments if you feel so inclined. I love hearing from you all!
As I mentioned in my Wicked story Sometimes Good People Do Really Bad Things, the cause of my absence has been mostly my grandmother (who is suffering from severe dementia), my father (who's having cardiac issues), and my own college application process.
It's been a strange couple of months, but good news: my father is doing much better! We are still monitoring him closely, and he has a whole list of restricted foods which he isn't too happy about, but he's doing much better.
Also, my family got full-time live-in care for my grandma, so we can breathe a little again.
Additionally, I finally got all my college applications in and am starting to head back! I was spending every waking-sleeping-breathing moment writing what felt like an endless supply of essays, so it is incredibly nice to finally be able to return to writing my stories!
I also turned 19 in December! Aghhh! I am officially older than all my favorite characters, which is highly depressing, but at least it's better than the alternative...
Anyway, let's go!
THINGS TO KNOW
. Nameday: In Christianity, a name day is a tradition in some countries of Europe and the Americas, and Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox countries in general. It consists of celebrating a day of the year that is associated with one's given name. The celebration is similar to a birthday.
. Basse Danse:The Basse Danse, like the Black Alman, was a popular medieval court dance that couples and large groups would participate in at parties and gatherings and celebrations. It was a grave and solemn dance with small gliding steps, bows, and danced up on the toes, very slowly. You can look it up for a visual reference. Just search the dance's name!
Fifteen Summers and Falls
The crowd hummed and pulsed with eager anticipation as their princess gracefully climbed the steps to the dais that sat at the far end of the Great Hall.
"Friends," Athena called, spreading her arms wide. "I welcome you warmly on the behalf of your king and my father, King Zeus."
"We accept your welcome," the crowd chorused.
With poise and perfection, Princess Athena looked out upon her people, a trace of a curl to her lips. Tonight she wore a gray summer gown that was embedded with rubies and sapphires and jade. Her fingers were adorned with rings of all colors, and her dark curls were crowned in a thick circlet of gold. She never looked so radiant.
"Many of you have traveled far and wide to be here tonight, and it fills my heart to see your joyous faces. Why, I see Countess Aphrodite, who has generously journeyed all the way from the West..." A dark-skinned woman with shimmering eyes and an entourage of men raised her glass in graceful acknowledgment.
"King Hades and Queen Persephone from our neighboring kingdom are here as well. What an honor to have you both..." The two monarchs stood on the outskirts of the crowd with their son, Prince Nicholas. Like night and day, a pale King Hades nodded stiffly while his bronze-skinned, rosy-cheeked wife gave the room a cheery wave.
"Even our esteemed Generals have generously graced us with their presence."
Two figures in the back, both tall and pale and imposing, stepped forward obediently. General Artemis wore a simple gown with several weapons strapped to her back, while General Aries donned a costumed military uniform. He laughed loudly and called, "Wouldn't miss this for the world, sister!"
Athena pressed her lips together and looked very much like she wished that he had. Zeus had many children with many different women, but it was Aries who ruffled Athena's feathers the most. And everybody knew it.
Frederick Chase stepped forth next, greeting the crowd. His clothes were slightly rumpled and several indistinguishable sneers and insulting whispers could be heard from the court.
Ignoring them all, the prince consort said, "We have welcomed you all to our gates to celebrate the nameday of our daughter and princess, Annabeth Chase. Her royal highness turns fifteen summers and falls today, and we couldn't be happier..."
The young princess grunted as she readjusted the little boy in her arms as he pressed closer to the crack in the door. Only the gods truly knew how much Athena had pleaded and bargained and begged her husband to speak at their daughter's nameday ball, but her daughter had a good idea, considering that was all she heard for two weeks straight.
"This is boring," Bobby announced as their parents droned on and on.
Annabeth snorted. "I warned you so, but you insisted on listening."
"I thought it was gonna be interesting!"
"Well, now you know it isn't."
Scowling, Bobby twisted in her arms until she set him down. The moment his feet touched the floor he was running to Mathew and his army of tin soldiers.
"Are you awfully nervous?"
Malcolm stood at the end of the corridor, half in shadow and half in light. He wore a light-colored tunic with knee-high boots, a sword on his hip, and a simple circlet of gold on his brow. He'd been gifted that circlet when he turned fifteen but was just beginning to wear it now after Athena practically had to wrest it onto his head.
Annabeth frowned as he strode to meet her. "What for?"
Malcolm was looking at her seriously, but everything he did was done seriously now. The past year had been a year of change for the eldest Chase child. The time for childhood was over, and Malcolm wore its effects like a noose.
The prince shrugged and fiddled with his cuffs. He was all height and broadness and muscles and man, and Annabeth was still adjusting to having to tilt to meet his gaze. "All sights will be pinned on you."
The young princess was dressed in a light summer gown, and while had it had many silk skirts, the material was cool for her to wear on a fine summer evening, such as tonight. Those skirts fluttered like silver wisps of candle smoke as Annabeth chuckled. "Aren't they always?"
She would've missed the slight furrowing of his brow if she hadn't been looking for it. "Yes, but more so tonight. They'll be waiting for you to slip up and mess up and stumble and fall..."
She crossed her arms as he trailed off. "We have always been blunt with each other, brother. Just say what you want to say."
The prince looked highly uncomfortable as he shot the twins a look. He shuffled closer and softened his voice to a whisper. "Father told me about your… dalliance last year."
Annabeth winced at the choice of words but did not falter. "And what of it?" she said lowly. "Boys can kiss whoever they want, wherever they want, whenever they want."
"Sister—"
"Do you think less of me?"
"What?" he sputtered. "No! Of course not."
"I thought you rather liked him," she said defensively.
"I do," the prince protested. "Very much. But my love for you is far greater than any friendship I could ever have."
"He didn't force himself, brother, if that's what you wish to know or was led to believe." Annabeth stared at him, hard, and was surprised when he actually flinched. Perhaps she did have something in common with her mother, after all. "He didn't pressure me, he didn't start anything at all. It was I who initiated everything."
Malcolm grimaced, most likely not wanting to picture his little sister partaking in anything of that sort.
"I trust you," he said quietly. "And I swear when I say I don't think anything different of you. I just want—"
Trumpets blew, shattering the silence, and the heavy doors to the great hall were thrown open, basking them both in light and laughter.
"I just want you to be careful," Malcolm said as he ushered the twins inside.
"Aren't I always?" she whispered over the cheering crowd.
The young princess watched in silence as the crowd greeted their princes with joy. She knew she and her siblings were perfect in the people's eyes. They were intelligent, handsome, healthy, and from a good family. But she also knew those thoughts would shift quicker than sand if the people knew what exactly the Chase siblings hid behind that perfected mask.
The Chase brothers reached the dais and took their places at the bass. Now it was her turn.
A rich round of applause erupted from the crowd as the she-child walked down the aisle. She nodded and smiled at the faces she passed—the faces she'd known since childhood. The lords and ladies, nobles and royals, servants and courtiers and members of the court bowed and curtsied and parted for her like the sea, compliments and praise and love on their lips.
When Annabeth reached the dais she hoisted her skirts and gracefully ascended to stand before her parents.
"Daughter." In Athena's hands was a thin ring of gold, identical to the one Malcolm bore. Annabeth knelt on the hard stone and felt her mother's cold fingers place the circlet on her head.
"May you have the strength to protect yourself, your people, and your land.
"May you have the love to guide you through trials, hardships, and strife.
"May you have the courage to stand for what is right and good and true.
"And may you have the wisdom to lead with power, honor, and mercy."
Annabeth's breath caught on mercy, and she was thankful for the curtain of hair that hid her sour expression.
The crowd cheered and clapped as the young princess stood and faced her people. Crowned in light and gold, she looked ethereal, and she basked in the thundering applause.
Athena swept forward and said, "Happy nameday," above the roar.
Annabeth smiled tightly and turned to her father, who came forth and kissed her on both cheeks. "We might not always agree," he murmured, "But I will always love you."
The twins were next. Mathew jumped into her arms (to the delight of the audience and the chagrin of their mother) and Bobby grinned wickedly at her and said, "You're reaaaaally old now."
Malcolm was last. He hugged her and tapped her circlet and said, "You wear it better than I ever could." He caught her hands as he let go and gave them a good squeeze that she returned, grateful, before the six of them turned back to their audience.
"Now!" Princess Athena clapped her hands and the sound echoed throughout the hall. "Let the celebrations begin!"
The young princess wove her way through tipsy guests and twirling skirts, letting herself sway to the playful melody of lutes. The doors were thrown open to the terrace, letting in a weak summer breeze, and the sconces on the walls flickered with life, casting wild shadows and estranged light upon the heads below.
The weight of the circlet was a strange feeling on her head. In truth, it didn't mean much. It was but a pretty decoration. But it greatly pleased the people to see that little gold band upon their prince and princess's head, and its symbolism was not lost on the daughter of Athena.
"Princess Anniebell!"
The lord Dionysus, one of Athena's many siblings and Annabeth's many uncles, stumbled out of the crowd, goblet over flowering. Dionysus was… well, Annabeth wasn't sure what to make of him half the time. He was an enthusiast of pleasure, a drunk like no other, and was often absent or tardy. She truly didn't know what he did during most days or what purpose his presence served at court.
"I must say, a thousand congratulations to you," he said slurred as he dipped into a sloppy bow.
"I… thank you?" A nameday was an odd thing to be congratulated on, but she summed it up to the drink in his hand.
"Of course, my dear, of course! And when will the big day be?"
"The… what?"
"The…"
Annabeth blinked at Dionysus and Dionysus blinked back, panic filling his face.
"I, uh, never mind," he said sheepishly. "Pay me no heed." He tossed back the rest of his drink in one fell swoop.
"Wait," she said, but was interrupted by another cry.
"Your Highness!" Two guests stepped aside, revealing Sir Lukas in his shining armor. "My sincerest congratulations," the knight said as he bowed. Sir Lukas was the eldest son of Hermes (a mysterious duke with an expansive merchant fleet), the youngest ever to be the head of Zeus's kingsguard, and was revered throughout the land for his talents with a sword.
"Thank you, Luke," the she-child said distractedly, "but can I ask—"
"Princess!" cried Sir Lukas's younger brothers, Lord Connor and Travis Stoll. Lords and ladies leaped out of their path as they rushed to join her. Mischievous and troublesome, the brothers were infamous for parting many a noble from their coin during cards or checkers or chess, and if one was wise, he knew to keep his jewels close when the brothers were about.
"We have come to rescue you from the clutches of our terribly boring brother," Lord Conner said, sweeping low to the ground and gleefully ignoring the look of sheer pain on Sir Lukas's face.
"How kind—"
"And to wish you a many good wishes!" Lord Travis added, tipping off his hat. "How excited you must be!"
"Yes, I'm simply dizzy with it."
"Well, another congratulations then!" exclaimed Lord Connor.
"yes, and I thank you both, but what is it for?" Annabeth said, a little desperately.
"What is it for?"
The brothers shared a bemused look. "Why, your en—"
"Sister. A word?" Malcolm appeared like an apparition at her side. He tucked her hand under his arm and he nodded briskly to each man in turn. "Gentlemen, good evening. Would you pardon us for a moment?"
He pulled her to the fringes of the great hall where the crowd was a bit thinner and it was easier to breathe and clutched her arm urgently. "There's someone who wants to see you," he said under his breath.
She rolled her eyes and pulled herself free. "Tell Mother I have been socializing."
"I think you'll find your caller is someone far more likable than Mother."
Annabeth scoffed. An I hardly doubt that was ready on her lips. But then she saw the look in her brother's eye. And she understood.
"They wait by the window," he said. "Be swift, sister, and be smart."
She caught his arm before he could slip away. "Why are you doing this?"
He smiled sadly at her. "Because I trust you. And I want you to be happy." He chuckled dryly. "Happier than me, at least."
Annabeth watched as he walked away. Never before did their circlets seem so heavy.
"Happy nameday," the princess heard as she tucked herself behind a heavy drape. She was still visible but concealed cleverly in the shadows. One had to be searching with a fierce intent on finding her to spot her.
The she-child paused. "Percy?"
One of the shadows moved. "Don't you recognize my voice?"
Annabeth shook her head, then felt a bit foolish and stopped. "It's much deeper now. You sound like Malcolm."
The shadow chuckled. "And how is he?"
"Somber." The prince had lost something when he gained the crown.
"And your brothers?"
"Energetic as ever."
"And yourself?"
"Tired." In truth, she was exhausted. Exhausted of pleasing her parents, of playing a part, of masquerading around for the court like a pretty little bird to be stared and prodded at.
"Is that all?"
"Isn't that enough?"
She could feel him looking at her, really looking at her, and even in the dark, she could sense the heat of his stare. She glanced away.
"Don't do that," he murmured.
"Do what?"
"Don't tell me things you think I want to hear. You do that for everybody. I thought we knew each other better than that."
"But you forget. We aren't alone." Annabeth tilted her chin to the room full of people who had turned their ears to Lord Apollo, who could be heard singing loudly from some corner of the hall.
"Ah. A shame."
They stood there in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence. A solemn tune struck up, drawing couples of all shapes, sizes, and shades to the dance floor, and the children took this as an opportunity to comment on all the different costumes they thought funny or fine.
"Percy," the she-child said softly, mind racing a thousand miles per minute. "Will you meet me in the gardens in ten minutes?"
"But your father—"
"I know what my father said."
She knew what her father thought. And she knew what he wanted. But she knew what she thought. And she knew what she wanted. She didn't want her brother's fortune. She didn't want to become someone unrecognizable—to become a stranger to herself for the sake of others. She knew couldn't do it. She couldn't walk through life in the shoes someone else carved for her. This secret might be wrong, but it was hers, and she needed it. She needed this small happiness to call her own and keep close to her chest, to warm her when the air was too cold and soothe her when the night was to silent.
"I know what I ask is not small thing. And I know I have no right to ask it of you. We'll be dead if they knew. But I can't bear it if—"
"Annabeth," he said firmly. "I'll be there."
"Where are you going?"
"I need some fresh air."
"Will this fresh air keep you long?"
Annabeth smiled. "I won't be but a few spare moments. Will you keep Mother and Father at bay while I'm away?"
Her brother nodded, but he looked unhappy. "Sister," he said as she took her leave.
She paused and glanced back.
Malcolm grinned, and for a moment, she could see a hint of his old mischief in his eyes. "Say hi to Jackson for me."
"Annabeth?" she heard, words barely above a whisper. "Is that you?"
"It's me," she said. She stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, and into the sights of Percy Jackson. He wordlessly swooped her into a hug and they stood there for a moment, listening to each other's soft breaths and beating hearts.
A year had passed since the princess and the Baron's son last laid eyes on each other. A whole year, a single year, a busy year, a lonesome year. Summer and fall and winter and spring, all passed in impression-less blurs.
It was she who pulled slightly away at first. "You're taller!" she noted, playing the game they played every year.
His shoulders had stretched and grown into broadness, his hair had returned to a normal appearance, his jaw had sharpened into a fine cutting line, and newly acquired muscles were now protruding from his upper half.
Percy, still holding her in his arms, looked her up and down. "So are you."
Yes. More height. That's exactly what she needed.
The young princess cocked her head at the familiar sense of déjà vu. "I should think we've had this sort of exchange before."
The Baron's son thought for a moment, and then he grinned. "I should think you are right."
"I'm always right."
"How could I forget?" She felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled, and she found herself liking that neither of them was making any efforts to break apart. "You can't imagine all I have to tell you," he said.
She listened as he began to talk about Tyson and Blackjack and the wellness of his mother, but it was with a growing sense of melancholy. The deepening of his voice and the curving of her hips and the broadening of his shoulders and the budding of her chest meant they were officially shedding their youth, their childhood, their freedom, their fun. They were being thrust into adulthood, and it was happening all too fast and all too soon. She wished time would stop so she could catch her breath and just think, but she knew there wasn't enough time in the world that could make her feel safe.
"...But enough about me. How are you?" he said seriously, drawing her back, and she was reminded of the day of their kiss. Their winter kiss, their unwise kiss, their spontaneous kiss, their forbidden kiss. How could one day hold such happiness and rage and confusion and fear?
"What the hell," her father had said upon his discovery of their persons.
"Father!" Annabeth exclaimed as they jumped apart. Percy immediately fell into a bow. "How did you find us?"
"I ran into Matthew." Frederick's voice was cold and brittle. "Imagine hearing from your seven-year-old son that your fourteen-year-old daughter is alone and unchaperoned in the gardens with a boy."
"Father, please," the young princess said. Frederick was always the diplomatic parent. He was the one she could talk to and confide in and conspire with.
Frederick held up his hand. He was staring at her in a way he'd never done before, as if she was some stranger he didn't know. "Be silent."
He turned to Percy, who was still in a bow, and his face hardened into stone. "I don't know if you have ill intentions towards my daughter and my family, or if you're simply an idiot who is ruled by his emotions," he said with a quiet and contained fury.
"I would never harm your daughter," Percy said quickly.
"Then you are a fool who already has."
"Your Majesty—"
Frederick gave the boy a withering look that shot him down quicker than a bird out of the sky. "How dare you enter my house upon my invitation and engage in matters that could sully my daughter's virtue! You have not only insulted my daughter and my family, but the crown itself and by extension, Athens at large!"
Frederick turned on Annabeth, and she could see the war of emotions in his eyes. Anger, fury, sadness… and above all: fear. "And you!" he barked. "Have we taught you nothing? Are you not wiser than this?"
Annabeth remembered burning with humiliation and frustration.
Frederick whirled back to Percy who, to his credit, did not shrink away or shrivel or wilt beneath the man's heavy glare. "You will leave at once, and think twice before you return."
"Father, please—"
"If I should ever again catch you with my daughter in a position that could compromise her, the consequences will be far greater than what has been dealt tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Percy said with a measured voice. He did not argue, he did not fight, he did not correct the man and tell him that it was she who insinuated the kiss, not he.
"Be gone, and never let me lay my sights upon you again."
But instead of fleeing into the night, the Baron's son simply looked at the princess. Despite the very angry father who was glaring a hole in his head, the boy hesitated, silently asking if she was alright. She was not alright, but she nodded nevertheless, and then he was gone.
"What the hell were you doing?" Frederick snapped as Percy grew smaller and smaller with every step. His voice broke when he said, "What were you thinking?"
"We were kissing!" Annabeth snapped back. "Kissing, not rutting! It was all in innocence!"
Her father sent her a look filled with such pity and sorrow it made her want to cry.
Prince Frederick, the royal consort and husband of Athena, was very progressive in much of his thinking. He and his wife both agreed that their children would have lessons in weaponry, state, literature, arithmetic, spinning, battle strategy, history, housekeeping, music, and more, no matter their genders. He urged Malcolm from the moment he was born to master his music, work a needle, and learn how to see a patch as much as he encouraged Annabeth to pick up a sword, perfect her military strategies, and practice her feints and lunges.
But as lenient and liberal Frederick was with his children, he knew the world looked at them through a different lens, one that separated them by anatomy. The ugly truth was that the world raised men up and tore women down. A boy could bed a thousand maidens before he was wed and no one would bat a single eye. A girl, however, could have her entire life ruined by a single kiss in a garden, or by a rumor or a whisper of there being something where there wasn't anything at all.
As a parent, it was Frederick's job to soften the blows the world would deal his children. But he could only prevent so much of the stumble before the inevitable fall.
If word escaped that the princess Annabeth was kissing a boy in the hedges after dark, every marriage proposal would be withdrawn, and that would jeopardize alliances, security and peace throughout the land.
The prince consort inhaled sharply. "You will not see that boy or any other alone. I don't care if he promised you the sun and the stars. It's too much of a liability."
"What if it was a girl?" Annabeth shot back. "Would you warn me away from her too?"
"If she was a threat to your future, then yes."
"And if it was Triton?" Frederick froze. "Mother seems rather eager to throw him my way, and he himself believes I am destined for his hand."
Her father whirled around, horror sprawled plain on his face. "When did you hear this?"
"Do you deny it?"
"I — we —"
There was fire in her eyes and steel in her blood as she stalked forward. "Are we or are we not promised to each other?"
Annabeth had never heard silence quite so loud.
"It was a thought," her father admitted finally, not meeting her eye. "But a fleeting one at that. We wouldn't make such a decision without your knowledge."
Annabeth exhaled slowly. She could've cried with relief.
Frederick moved closer. All the anger seemed to have drained from him, leaving him with only weariness and caution.
"You know just as well as I do that I say this for your own protection."
"Your protection is appreciated, but not needed," she said. "Father, this is my life to jeopardize, mine to endanger or throw away as I see fit. I and I alone did this. I. Kissed. Him."
Frederick wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. "My girl, in an ideal world, in a land of perfection, we could all love whoever we wished, without inhibition or judgment, or care. And I wish I could give that world to you—as a father, as a parent, as someone who's seen so much of life. But for all the power your mother and I possess, we cannot give you such a world. We can only arm you for the one you were born into."
"Annabeth?" Percy said gently when she didn't respond, bringing her back to the present.
Shaking herself from her reverie, the young princess mustered a mirthless smile, one Athena would be undoubtedly proud of. "My father refrained from telling my mother what happened, so I suppose we have him to thank for that."
"I don't care about that. I care about you."
Annabeth stared unseeingly over his shoulder. "I feel very lost, lately," she said in a small voice. "Which is absurd, because my life has been charted from the moment I was born. I've always known what I was expected to wear, to eat, to do, to be."
"Both those were other people's ideas," Percy said quietly. "What would you like?"
The young princess blinked at him, and slowly, she smiled. "You know, I don't believe I've been ever asked that before."
"Well, it's about time," he retorted. And then: "May I kiss you?"
A slight hitch in her breath was the only trace of a reaction. "Only if I can kiss you too."
His lips against her lips and her lips on his was a strange feeling, a feeling she'd all but forgotten. The kiss was a bit clumsy and awkward and more than a little uncoordinated, due to their inexperience, but it was sweet and gentle and him.
"They'll be missing us," he murmured when they finally pulled away. "Shall I return first?"
"Depends. How do I look?"
"Like you've just been ravished in a garden."
"Ha ha." Her hands flew to her hair, her circlet, her dress, to pat down stray curls and smooth invisible creases.
He took her hand and laced their fingers together. "You look fine, Wise Girl. More than fine."
"You're biased, but thank you," Annabeth sighed. "Alright. I'm ready. After you."
Perspiration immediately started to prickle down the young princess's skin as she rejoined the party. She told herself it was merely from the heat of so many bodies pressed together, but she knew she was fooling herself.
"Annabeth." Malcolm appeared, two glasses in hand. "I was just about to come for you. Another soldier's fallen. We lost him thirty minutes ago. He's no doubt hiding away somewhere, waiting for Mother to give up on getting him to socialize so he can go back to his machines."
Annabeth shook her head. "That lucky bastard."
Malcolm passed her a glass and looked her up and down. "How was our fresh air?"
Annabeth smiled. In her peripheral view, she could see him mingling with King Hades' son, Prince Nico, Lord Apollo's son, Lord William, and the Stoll brothers by the room's edge. "Why don't you come and find out for yourself?"
"I do hope you're not conning these poor, honest men of their good coin," Annabeth said as the two of them joined the boys.
"We wouldn't dream of it, Your Highness," Lord Travis said cheerfully as he folded into a bow. His brother and Apollo's son followed suit, while Prince Nico, a silent, gaunt-looking boy, gave the prince and princess a deep incline of the head.
Malcolm put them at ease with a flick of his wrist as Annabeth shot a pointed look at the Stolls. "And yet, your fingers betray you."
Lord Connor froze guiltily, his curled fist hanging suspiciously in the air.
"Oh curses," Lord Travis sighed, a twinkle in his eye. "Foiled again. That makes twice tonight, brother. Perhaps we're losing our touch."
Lord Conner feigned outrage at being caught but quickly gave Lord Willam back his coin, who grinned sheepishly as he accepted the leather pouch.
"I ought to have that someplace better," he said as he retied the pouch to his hip.
"Don't feel too bad," Lord Conner said with a friendly pat on the arm. "We just happen to have slippery good fingers."
Prince Nico and Percy snorted in unison.
Conversation halted down around them as all eyes turned to the end of the Great Hall. Princess Athena was climbing the steps to the dais, the prince consort at her side. Apparently, Frederick hadn't been forgotten after all. Three other figures mounted the steps as well. King Poseidon, Queen Amphitrite, and Prince Triton. The king and queen didn't seem to have aged since last year, and the prince was just as handsome and tall and repulsive as Annabeth remembered.
She could feel Percy tensing beside her as the royal family took their positions, and she knew they shared the same thought.
What did the Celaenos have to do with the night?
The princess Athena searched the crowd until her eyes met Annabeth's, silently beckoning her to come. Mutely, Annabeth gave her glass to Percy and went to the dais, putting as much space as she could between the Celaenos and her person.
"My people," Athena began. "Today is a day of many blessings. We have gathered here today to celebrate not one birth, but two."
Annabeth truly did try to listen, but she was also preoccupied with ignoring the weight of Triton's gaze, which was currently pinned on her.
"It is no unknown thing, the tension between myself and King Poseidon. Long has Atlantis and Athens quarreled and squabbled and warred. But that ends now. Today, a new era is born, one filled with peace, partnership, and prosperity."
The crowd broke into perplexed whispers as Poseidon stepped forward. He raised a hand, commanding silence with a single action. "As of this moment, the Chases and Celaenos will join houses." He turned to Athena, eyes unreadable. "What is mine is now yours, and what is yours is now mine. Let us put our contempt aside and let our children be the heralds of a new world."
All eyes fell on the she-child, whose mouth had gone dry. She saw her lady mother, whose face was impassive as she pressed Zeus's ring, the one with his royal seal, into the puddle of wet wax, next to hers and Poseidon's signature. She saw her father, who clasped his hands and looked guilty beyond belief and wouldn't look her or anybody in the eye. She saw Percy, who stood in the crowd, rooted to his spot, fist clenched around her glass and shock plastered across his face. And she saw Malcolm, fury rolling off him in waves, and watched as he stormed out of the hall.
The young princess's mind was afire with a hundred thousand thoughts — how could her parents do this? why hadn't she they warned beforehand? how could they betray her like this? — but the one that stood out the most came as Triton smirked at her with that terrible smile. Those horrible words he spoke last winter were true.
He took a step forward and reached out his hand as if to touch her, perhaps, but she stepped backward, making him pause. She was trembling and shaking and blinking back tears. Why did everyone seem to know about this arrangement but her? This was all wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen this way.
Then the crowd was swarming the dais offering their joyous congratulations to the pair, and Annabeth was breaking free and walking swiftly for the exit. She heard her name being called by her parents and uncertain cries from the crowd and the dreaded sound of Triton following her—and with her heart in her chest, threatening to break, Annabeth broke into a run.
"Sister!" Malcolm said as she nearly ran past him.
Annabeth skidded to halt, panting heavily. She hadn't seen him sulking in the alcove and startled at his voice.
She marched up to him, glaring. She was so angry she had trouble forming words. "Did you know?"
Her brother shook his head. He was pale and wide-eyed and looked as distraught as she felt, which is what ought to be, for he had been matched himself, and would know better than any of them, the trials she was going through.
"I swear upon the old gods and the new, I had no idea. There was talk, yes, but there's been talk for years, and they told me they wouldn't agree to something without your consent."
"Then they have fooled us both."
"Wait—where are you going?" he said as she picked up her skirts. "Sister!"
But she was already gone. She dashed past a suit of armor, a decorated sword, a portrait of her grandmother, turned a corner… and slammed straight into the chest of her betrothed.
Triton grunted as she barreled into him, and caught her with a vice-like grip before she could tumble to the ground. "Princess," he said almost pleasantly. "It's been a long time, has it not?"
Annabeth tried to tear herself out of his grasp, but her struggle was in vain. His fingers only curled tighter around her wrists and dug into her skin.
"I must ask you something that has been troubling me. You see, I so enjoyed tonight's festivities, but I couldn't help but notice the king's absence. And so I asked myself, how on earth could he miss such an occasion? The solstice balls are one thing, but his very own granddaughter's nameday ball is quite another. He must be terribly preoccupied with other matters, no?"
"It seems I have nothing to say," she said emotionlessly. "For you've already have it all figured out." Her light tone hid the dark truth that the king was currently bed ridden with a bad fever.
Irritation flashed across Triton's face, but it was quickly soothed by a dark grin. "Still as feisty and beautiful as ever, I see." He leaned in and leered. "Do you believe me now when I said we were to be wed?"
"Release me," she snapped, for she was too angry to feel frightened or anything else.
The cruel prince tutted as he traced a finger down the side of the princess's cheek, eyes flashing hungrily. "Oh, but where's the fun in that?"
Annabeth turned her head away, stomach coiling from his touch. She hated that no matter how hard she trained, no matter how skillful she became, her male opponents would always have the upper she turned back and glared with the heat of a hundred fires. "If you fail to release me this instant, I swear I'll show you how handy I am with a blade."
Triton shrugged nonchalantly, but stepped back, releasing her from his suffocating grip. As she grew, so had her war skills, and it was known throughout the land that she was one of the best fighters in Athens and could match any knight in her grandfather's guard.
"No matter. I like it when girls struggle. Makes the hunt more... interesting."
The young princess pushed him hard and got a strong sense of déjà vu as he went tumbling to the floor.
"A hunt this is not," she said, standing over him. "But if it was, I wouldn't be the prey."
Left, right, left, left. Annabeth wasn't breathing well and she needed to stop and rest but she couldn't stop because if she gave herself a moment to rest and think, she knew she would find the strength or courage to stand again.
Right, right, left, right.
Another twist.
Another turn.
She passed corridor after corridor, made turn after turn. Why were there so many godsdamn hallways in this forsaken castle? And why was the room spinning? She really ought to take a break, just for a moment, so that's what she did, at the top of a spiraling staircase. She slipped off her shoes and began to ascend, and it was to her great surprise when she found the baron's son slumped halfway down on the stairs.
His head snapped up as she took a seat beside him. "Did you know?"
She whirled on him. "Do I look like I knew?"
Her hair, formally combed to perfection, was now unruly and hanging in a tangled gold curtain all around her face. Her dress was rumpled and wrinkled and sweaty, and her eyes were strained and pinched and looked nearly black.
Percy held up his hands. "My apologies."
She could see his hands trembling in the firelight, and she knew she didn't fare any better.
They sat on the steps together, knees touching and elbows smushed between them, and let the somber sound of their breathing fill the air.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this," she said finally.
"I know." His voice was dejected and defeated. "We were supposed to get to know each other more. Talk more, learn more, have some more years. I would've asked you to consider marrying me."
Annabeth stared at him. "You want to marry me?" They were only fifteen summers, but others were married even younger.
"Well—not right now," Percy sputtered. "Obviously."
Despite the tension, she couldn't help but laugh at his panicked expression. Her laughter was infectious, and he couldn't help but let go of his mortification and chuckle along. But the lightheartedness was dispelled as quickly as it came.
"Annabeth," he said seriously. "You are… brilliant, and witty, and incredibly smart and humorous and kind and talented and scary and great with—"
"Percy, get to the point."
"Right, yes." He cleared his throat and she realized he was blushing. "Whatifwewentawayfromhere?"
She blinked. "What?" She hadn't caught one word.
Percy briefly closed his eyes, muttered a prayer of strength, and looked very much like he wanted an arrow to shoot out of the sky and hit him in the head. He opened them and stared at her. "What if we went away from here?"
Annabeth rested her chin in her hand. "Where would we go?"
"I don't know. Someplace by the sea, perhaps a small meadow with a forest flanking one side. We would be alone and no one would know where we are. We'd have a cottage with a garden and a farm, and during the winter when the ground is too cold to produce, you could hunt and I could fish."
Annabeth smiled sadly. A house of her own, land to roam wild, a paradise where she could shed her titles and crowns and jewels and just be her. It was a wonderful dream, a beautiful dream, and she could see it so clearly in her mind's eye. "Would we have many horses?"
"At least three," he said at once, and he grinned his crooked grin at her. "And a few cows and goats, for milk and butter and cheese."
"And a barn of chickens for eggs. And a hog or two, for bacon."
"Chickens and hogs, of course. And ro—" He cut off, his green eyes narrowed, and she felt a chill steal through her as his face hardened. One moment he was Percy, the boy she knew, and the next he was almost a complete stranger. "What is this?"
She followed his gaze to her wrists, where bruises were beginning to form.
"Training. I let Malcolm get a couple of hits in with his staff." Annabeth moved to hide them in her skirts (which, in retrospect, was not an act of someone who didn't have something to hide) but Percy was quicker. He caught her hands and gently held them in his own, inspecting the bruises in the firelight.
"These are man-made."
"Just leave it be." She stood abruptly, and so did he, gently but firmly holding her wrists held between them like some sort of lifeline or raft.
"Who did this?" he asked again, voice rough and heavy.
She shook her head. "I don't—"
His eyes flashed dangerously, but unlike with Triton, she didn't fear their heated glint. "Annabeth, I know this isn't—"
She snatched her wrists out of his grasp and exclaimed loudly, to the surprise of them both, "They're just bruises!" Both child paused, listening for the fall of coming feet. When they were greeted with silence, Annabeth turned back to him. "For gods sake," she hissed. "I'm not bleeding out over my gown. Will you take your meddling paranoia and put it somewhere else?"
The Baron's gave her a look that had more than a hint of knowing sadness. "It's never just bruises. They always lead to something else. Something more."
She wished he wouldn't look at her like that. She wished he wouldn't ever look away.
The young princess cleared her throat and tried to force down her emotions. "I know. But I'm fine."
His eyes, which were still filled with so much anger, crinkled with concern when he saw her face. "Are you really?"
She laughed bitterly. "No, I don't believe I am."
And then she began to cry.
He guided her to the base of the steps and gently sat her down. Her dress pooled around her, encasing her in a cloud of silk and velvet.
"Please." Her breath hitched and her stomach hurt and she was weak and weepy and she didn't want to be alone. "Please don't go."
He took a seat beside her and rested her head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't leave for the world."
Fun facts:
1 The Stolls being the mischievous sons of a wealthy merchant was Chani from AO3 (Little_Punk_Bee)'s headcanon. She mentioned it in a comment and I loved that idea so much that I asked her if I could include it in the story, and she so graciously said yes! So this is a huge shoutout and thank you to Chani for being so amazing and letting me include her headcanon. You rock Chani!
2 My goal was to write Athena and Frederick as individuals with very progressive, feminist beliefs who are unfortunately stuck in a time that is still 'old fashion' and 'backward' in many of its views and values. Writing the Percabeth kiss was an opportunity to challenge their personal beliefs with those of the world they live in, and to see how things played out.
This was where writing got really tricky. At first, Frederick was just unjustly furious, like a typical parent in a Romeo/Juliet retelling. But as I tried to put myself in my character's shoes, I realized his reaction to the kiss had to be so much more than just anger. Why is he so angry? Can he be more than just furious? If so, then what, and why?
After exploring a little, I came to the conclusion that Frederick's anger is really from a place of fear. Fear for his daughter and her future should word of the kiss ever get out. He knows that so much riding on one little thing is completely unfair and unjust, but he also knows that this is the kind of world they live in, and if Annabeth is to do well, sometimes she has to play by the rules.
THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK AHAHA IF YOU'RE STILL HERE YOU'RE A REAL ONE.
Also, I think I'm just realizing how much I like shoving Triton to the ground, as this is like the third straight time he's been yeeted. So oops, but sorry not sorry because he's an asshole.