Hi there, sorry for the wild update schedule. I'm in the middle of finals right now, and I'm running on three hours of sleep and 2 energy drinks. What's extra unhelpful is that my writing schedule alternates between "Look at me go! Caffeine and jet fuel run through these very veins!" and "Hungaroo Bungaroo, I yearn for the MacDonalds."

There is no in between. Anyway, thanks for waiting. I'll have a consistent schedule eventually.

The Poseidon cabin, or the "Oceanside Villa" as Annabeth called it, hadn't been spared the wrath of the imperial architects. Instead of what had once been his summertime home for the past decade or so, now there was a white marble house with tended gardens and seashell shingles on the roof. Personally, he found the whole thing tacky and kind of dumb.

But Annabeth had wanted to, and after consulting his father they'd both relented. Now he had a hot tub, two bedrooms, a library, and a bathroom fit for lower nobility. He was kind of assuming that the last one was a Roman thing.

Still, even though his living situation had become ideal by most people's standards, it missed that silent dignity that his dingy camp cabin possessed. It was a beach house, without arrogance or pomp. It didn't need to look great, you just walked in and you knew it was.

But as he stood outside of it, having just made his way over from the medical tent, he slowly began to comprehend its demise. Not just of the cabin, but also of that quiet dignity. The art of subtle excellence had been lost on the Romans, and now they had insisted upon dropping this quite literally on his front door step. He had to admit, however, that it wasn't entirely Rome's fault.

"Percy!" He heard Annabeth shout from the top floor of what was now a three story building. "Where have you been?" Worry, ire, and relief were all present in her tone. Every emotion she had thus far presented had only served to add to the guilty pit swelling up in his stomach.

"I'm sorry, babe, I just…" he trailed off. He hadn't lied to her ever, did he really want to start now? "I got sick, and I had to go to the medical tent."

"Oh my gods, Percy. Are you okay?" Annabeth cried back, running away from the window and presumably down the stairs to him. The knot in his chest tightened as he walked closer to the door, and the pit in his stomach deepened.

As she swung the front door open and ran up to him, Percy could smell the fresh scent of candles. They were a specific brand, too. One that Annabeth picked out specially for him. What were they called again? Then he remembered: "Seafoam Serenade." Whatever her problems with the Poseidon cabin had been were probably valid, but the concept of a candle in place of the smell that had always been there since he was eleven was apt to say the least.

"Percy, what happened?" Annabeth asked, wrapping her arms gingerly around his neck.

"It was nothing," Percy answered, preparing to lie. "I got sick last night, and Will gave me some ambrosia. I'm good now."

She grinned, puting butterflies into his gut as well as the pit that was beginning to feel as bottomless as tartarus itself. He just smirked back, her arms tightening around the nape of his neck as she moved in to kiss him. Guilt and shame mingled as he kissed her back, no part of this feeling right. She pulled back.

"Come on in, seaweed brain. I've got some big news," she said, pulling on the waistband of his pants.

Percy twitched, but obliged. He walked inside of his home that didn't feel like home and sat down at a dining room table that was nicer than anything he would have picked out for himself. There was already a bottle of wine open, probably from a few nights ago. Annabeth brought over two glasses, pouring out a drink for them both. He grimaced, but refused to let any part of his conversation with Clarisse into this conversation.

"So," she began, handing him the glass of red wine and leaving the bottle conveniently close to him. "We're constructing something big. I don't want to tell you too much, but I'll show you the site tomorrow."

Percy watched as Annabeth shook with excitement. Recently he'd been forced to try and feign his affection for her and her work, though the love was admittedly still there for the former. Annabeth's career as an architect had destroyed more than just his beloved cabin, and although he'd never raised it before he wanted to believe she knew that her cumulative efforts over the years had been killing him. He took a deep sip from his wine glass, trying to imitate normalcy while still avoiding the drunken stupor he had become so fond of.

"Alright Annabeth," he slurred tiredly. She seemed to catch onto the oddness, given what little he'd had to drink, and her excitement wavered. The sun was still out, but it was the waning hours of the afternoon. Perhaps it was cruel, given her excitement, but Percy couldn't deal with this right now. He just wanted to go to sleep. "I'm looking forward to it."