The King and Queen departed the next evening, apologizing profusely to their guests for delaying the wedding. Annabeth didn't mind, of course. The further down the road her sister's union to Duke Jackson the better.
To her surprise, the days without them passed as usual. Annabeth would take her breakfast in her room before retiring to the library where she spent the majority of her morning before being pestered by Luke to walk amongst the gardens. She protested but always ended up caving, allowing him to take her by the arm and lead her along the path. She would spend the afternoon looking for Rachel and share a few words with her, her mood lightening significantly at her demeanor.
With all the change that had surrounded the castle as of late, the monotony had become strangely comforting. Perhaps that was why Annabeth was hesitant to accept Luke's offer to visit a nearby kingdom. He insisted that the trip would only take an hour, they would be home before dinner. He frequently spoke of the land's beauty, recalling the shimmering Lake, the lively flora and fauna.
It wasn't until the mention of his late father that Annabeth finally agreed to spend the day together.
"We used to sit at the water's edge," he had recalled, his eyes far away as he looked out onto the castle grounds. "He would read to me. I think it was the only place he was ever truly happy, ever free—"
"Then we will go and do the same," Annabeth had assured him, smiling up at him, unable to bear the idea of losing her family as he had. She had instructed her servants to prepare a basket of substances so that they might spend lunch on the banks of the lake. And the next day they were off, the carriage ride felt short with him sitting beside to her.
They still had not spoken about potentially relocating to Andalucia, but their conversations had improved significantly. He seemed intent on spending every second with her, always wanted to see her alone, constantly pulling the blonde away from Rachel and Percy. Although his insistence would have normally annoyed her to no end, she was determined to avoid the Duke and found herself unusually grateful.
Yes, things were better—definitely better. A smile brightening his expression whenever she glanced in his direction. With her parents gone, his presence was more than bearable—it was enjoyable.
"What are you reading?" Luke asked her, peering at her from across the blanket she had laid out.
"A collection of stories from the southern nations," Annabeth replied simply, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Shall I read to you?"
He laid back, his back flat against the dark sand below them.
"Why not," he shrugged, and Annabeth thought she heard a bored sigh leave him.
Putting the thought out of her head, she began to read aloud, the soft sounds of water calming her. She was not used to spending so much time away from the castle. It had been years since she had left with no one else. It was pleasant, she decided, enjoyable even. She wondered if living with Luke would really be so bad.
"Do you like it here?" Luke interrupted her reading, seeming to have read her mind.
"I think so," Annabeth nodded slowly, watching as a dragonfly hovered over the water's rippling surface. "It's calmer than I had expected."
"Hm," he hummed, his eyes glued to the passing clouds. "I hoped you would say that."
"Why?" Annabeth questioned, turning to look at his with curious eyes.
The inquire had barely left her mouth when there was a sudden rustling among the brush to her left. Jumping to her feet, Annabeth felt every hair on her body stand straight up. She swallowed harshly, her fingernails digging into the dark leather of her book.
A second later, the guards around them sprung into action, half of them tearing through the surrounding forest, the rest closing in to form a perimeter around the couple.
Annabeth spared Luke a glance, surprised to see him still sitting down. His features were contorted into an expression of concern, his eyes burning with irritation.
When she looked back at the trees, she saw a man—one of her servants, she realized—panting breathlessly, stumbling towards her. The rest of her men around her seemed to relax at the familiar but their swords remained drawn.
"Your Highness," her servant panted, falling to his knees on the brush before her.
"I thought I had instructed that we were not to be disturbed—" Luke began, glaring around at the guards who had allowed the servant passage.
"Hush, Luke," Annabeth cut him off, ignoring his respondent scoff of disdain. "Has something happened?" she sought, eyes piercing into the man. His chest was heaving, his mouth slightly ajar as he attempted to speak. "Sir!" she demanded, stepping towards him.
"Rebels—"
Her heart dropped, the world spinning around her.
"—in the castle—" he revealed, still struggling to breathe.
The number of people she cared about was slowly dwindling, she could not spare to lose another—
"Rachel—" Annabeth began but her servant knew her too well.
"The princess is safe," he assured her.
"Thank god," Annabeth sighed, her posture crumbling in relief. "How?" she demanded suddenly, her knuckles desolate of blood as they tightened their grip. "How did they get in?"
"It is still unknown," he stated roughly, dipping his head as if he knew what was coming. "But it is believed they have a spy in our midst."
Annabeth felt her entire body go still, tension ripping through her.
"Take me back at once," she commanded, ignoring the dark spots that were beginning to cloud her vision. She strode forward, forgetting for a moment that she was in an unprotected forest.
"Annabeth—" Luke called from the ground behind her. He still hadn't stood up. "Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction—"
She whipped her head around to glare at him, disbelief passing her eyes.
"We shall ready the carriage," one of her guards affirmed, turning but her words halted him before he could take another step.
"No," she rejected harshly, still looking at Luke. She felt her teeth gnash at her bottom lip and tasted blood. "I'll ride."
...
When Annabeth arrived back at the castle, she jumped off her horse, quickly handing the reigns to a nearby guard. She could see guards flanking her on either side as she raced through the familiar halls. The clash of metal on metal echoed through the empty space as they struggled to keep up with her. Annabeth knew the path like the back of her hand, ducking into dark corridors and hidden passages.
She halted only once she had reached her destination, pausing momentarily outside of Rachel's bedroom in order to catch her breath—unnervingly worried at what she might find past the doors. She had been assured that Rachel was fine, that she was not harmed, that she was safe—but what if—
Annabeth smoothed her hair, composing herself before gesturing for the guards to open the door and striding in.
"Annabeth," Rachel called when she saw her sister, rushing towards her and wrapping her in a warm embrace.
"Are you okay?" Annabeth demanded, drawing away from her to scan her features for any indication of harm. She was still holding her sister's
"Yes," Rachel insisted, her eyes shining with unease. Her green eyes flicked down to the severe grip Annabeth still had around her wrists.
"Oh." Annabeth stepped back and released her with a nod, finally taking a moment to observe her surroundings.
There were a dozen guards encompassing the room. The windows were drawn shut, and Percy was tucked into the shadow of Rachel's great canopy bed. Another day Annabeth would have scolded her sister about the impropriety of his presence, but for now, the blonde was simply grateful that she was safe.
"What happened?" Annabeth questioned, trying to keep her voice marginally calm. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
"I don't—I don't know," Rachel struggled, her chest heaving against the bodice of her gown, the bottom of which, she noted, was coated in mud.
"What happened?" Annabeth repeated louder, turning to face the guards now.
"Your Highness," the guard nearest to Percy inclined his head. "Her Highness was walking the grounds with his Grace when a crowd of rebels sprung from the castle doors, charging towards them—"
"They originated from within the castle?" Annabeth clarified, her head snapping to meet his gaze. She held her breath, hoping she'd misheard.
"From what we were able to ascertain, your Highness," he affirmed, his eyes dropping to the floor as if in shame.
"And...?" Annabeth pressed with a deep breath, barely internalizing what he had just said. Her mind was moving too quickly, her heart beating too fast. She could barely think. There was someone in the castle—a traitor hiding in her home. "What occurred afterward?"
"Her Highness and his Grace were rushed inside by myself while the rest of my men fought the rebels. The—the rebels were unskilled opponents but they possessed well-crafted weapons."
Annabeth pressed her lips together until they were completely void of color. There were a hundred questions plaguing her mind, but as her oldest guard stood before her—the man that had watched over her since she was an infant, who had begrudgingly taught her combat despite her parents' qualms—she found only one question rising to the forefront of her mind.
"Was anyone hurt?" she asked finally.
"There were a few minor injuries, but no casualties," he explained, a sadness washing over his expression.
"Who?" Annabeth demanded, her voice coming out harsher than she'd meant it. She momentarily registered the way Rachel watched her, a mix of confusion and awe in her eyes.
"A few of the guards, your Highness," her guard reveal quickly, dismissively.
"Their names?" she urged, surprising even herself with her line of questioning.
Her guard opened his mouth but paused, puzzled.
"Aldwin Haynes, Rowan Ashdown, Mark Lightwood," he informed slowly, each word guttural against his tongue.
Annabeth pressed her lips together, sending him a grateful grimace, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
"Please leave us," she commanded, turning to face her sister as the guards slowly shuffled out of the room. "Jamison," Annabeth called before they reached the door. Her guard swiveled his head, his eye wide, having never heard her call him his family name. "Tell them—Haynes, Ashdown, and Lightwood—that the kingdom is forever endebted to them."
He nodded vigorously before dipping his head reverently and following the rest of the soldiers as they cleared the room.
"We must be cautious," Annabeth told Rachel sternly once they were alone, careful to keep her voice quiet.
She had considered requesting Percy leave too, but she knew Rachel would have opposed her—besides, if he was going to be king, perhaps he ought to shoulder the responsibility of keeping Rachel safe, as she had for so many years.
"There is a traitor among us," Annabeth theorized more to herself than anyone in particular. Rachel gasped loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. The blonde ignored her. "There must be. There is no way rebels could have infiltrated the castle without assistance. What—what are you going to do?" she questioned, eyeing her sister's stunned expression.
"I—Why me?" Rachel stuttered, blinking rapidly. She glanced back at Percy but his eyes were on the blonde.
"Because," Annabeth reasoned with a frustrated sigh, furrowing her brow. "Mother and father are gone. They have left you in charge—one day, this will be your life. So, what are you going to do?"
"I—I don't know." Rachel dropped her chin, staring down at her clasped hands. "I suppose we should clear the castle—eliminate—"
"No." Annabeth shook her head, an immediate need to take action shooting through her spine.
Rachel's head snapped up, shooting her sister a pained look, but the blonde's attention seemed to be elsewhere, her gaze tracing sturdy window frame in front of Rachel's desk.
"What do you propose then?" Rachel snapped, feeling disheartened at her sister's unfamiliar harshness. Her hands tightened around each other, her knuckles whitening.
"A castle wide lockdown," Annabeth determined, her attention seemingly still elsewhere as she examined the room. "No one should leave or enter without explicit permission. Any rebels will have long disappeared, but if there truly is a spy in our midst"—her eyes flashed in Percy's direction for an almost imperceptible second—"then we must find him. Line up the guards, question them. Trust no one. Inquire as to their whereabouts over the last few hours, catalog their backgrounds. I have reason to believe the rebels were likely from Atlantis, but they need not know that—"
"Understood," Rachel nodded, swallowing thickly. "And how would I—"
"Call for an emergency meeting with the council, inform them of your plans—be sure to question them as well, they are not above mal intent. Then gather the castle, including any dignitaries for they too are in danger."
"It's too much—" Rachel protested hesitantly, anxiety tightening her chest. "Will they listen?"
"You will be queen soon," Annabeth asserted firmly. "They will have to listen."
"I—I don't know if I can," Rachel tried futilely, glancing at her fiance for support.
"It's not a question of if, Rachel, it's a question of when. And I suggest you be as prompt as reasonably possible," Annabeth maintained pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest.
"But—"
"Duke?" Annabeth turned to him, addressing him for the first time since she'd entered the room. "Your thoughts?"
"I agree with your sister," he told Rachel, his posture poised as he stepped towards her, his hands clasped behind his back. "But gather the castle prior to calling for a council meeting, they will delay you otherwise."
Annabeth fought a smile.
"Okay," Rachel sighed in defeat.
A loud clanging suddenly erupted from across the room. Annabeth spun around, facing the doors with a defensive stance as her breath caught. She vaguely registered Percy's lean body sliding in front of Rachel's.
The noise intensified.
Annabeth's palm hovered delicately over her the seam of her dress, floating where the fabric met her bare leg—hyperaware that the blade she had hidden beneath the dark mauve fabric was rendered useless if she couldn't reach it.
She watched Percy's hand reach for the sheathed sword draped around his waist.
A grunt echoed somewhere past the doors followed by angry voices—angry familiar voices.
Annabeth frowned.
The doors clattered open and Luke came charging into the room, an angry expression distorting his aristocratic features.
"Annabeth," he huffed, his lips pursed. His eyes flicked to Rachel and Percy standing a few feet behind the blonde but seem to otherwise ignore them. "This is ridiculous—" he seethed, striding towards her.
And suddenly, the days of domestic joys they had shared seemed to pale in comparison to his behavior. Even after everything, he was going to act like—like this.
"What exactly is ridiculous?" Annabeth shot back, remarkably embarrassed that her sister was seeing Luke this way. "And I recommend you think very carefully before you answer?"
His jaw clicked. She saw his throat pulse, his eyes lacking his customary easy-going demeanor.
"Ridiculous that I thought my sister's safety more important than our romantic rendezvous?" she flared. "Or ridiculous that you thought it appropriate to address me like this in front of my family?"
He was silent, merely glowering at her. She mused, momentarily, that she had never seen his eyes burn so fiercely.
"Forgive me for worrying," Luke sneered, though his tone had improved a tenfold. "I just thought I'd return this," he said, holding out the title Annabeth had been reading by the lake.
She took the book from his hands. "We can talk later," Annabeth muttered, her eyes glued to the novel.
He scoffed, breathed, and sighed loudly before exiting, leaving the bedroom doors open behind him. She watched him storm down the castle corridor before glancing down at the book. She frowned, noting there were crescent-shaped holes where her fingernails had dug into the leather.
"Annabeth!" she heard her sister's scandalized gasp behind her. "That was—"
"Spare me," Annabeth snapped, but she regretted the words as quickly as they left her mouth. "I'm—I'm sorry," she apologized with a tired expression. "It has been a chaotic morning."
"It's alright," Rachel replied primly—Annabeth didn't believe her—striding out the doors with Percy in tow. "I have work to do anyway."
...
To say Annabeth was surprised by her sister's lack of initiative was an understatement. If anything, her reaction to the attack had reminded Annabeth why she was still needed, why her duty to her family would never be done.
Of course, she'd felt horrible at the sight of Rachel's dejected face after she had treated her harshly, but as she watched her sister standing before the court, commanding the room, Annabeth knew it was worth it. If firm words would make her sister strong and capable, then she would do just that.
"Why aren't you up there with her?" came a deep voice from behind her. Annabeth shifted her head ever slightly, catching the eye of Duke.
"It's not my place," she answered simply, turning back to gaze up at her sister, pride blooming in her chest. "I am not a queen."
"Neither is she."
Annabeth felt her heart stutter at his choice of words, but she hid her surprise.
"But she will be one day." She glanced back at him, a polite smile gracing her lips. "Besides wouldn't want to distract."
"And because it is easier to scrutinize the masses from this spot, right?" he quipped, raising a brow.
"Of course, I am nothing if not intentional, Duke," she regarded slowly. He was not usually so cordial. She had rather expected a well-placed insult by now. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Of course."
The stood in silence for several minutes, watching from afar as Rachel lectured, an unfamiliar strength in her stance.
"Did you know?" Annabeth asked quietly, not bothering to look at him. He was a skilled liar. It wouldn't have made a difference.
"That you are nothing but intentional?" he clarified, a note of confusion hanging off his last syllable.
"That the rebels were coming," she refined.
Rachel seemed to doubt herself for a second as she stood before her father's throne. Her green eyes desperately seeking out hers. Annabeth offered her an encouraging grin.
"No," he said simply.
"Did the guard tell me the truth?" Annabeth pressed, his tone light and airy as if the subject were nothing more than a pastime. "Did they originate from within the castle?"
"What incentive does he have to lie to his princess?" Percy countered, his lips barely moving as he spoke.
"None, I hope." Annabeth licked her lips, taking a second to focus on her breathing. "But faith is easily swaying during trying times."
"And so you trust me to tell you the truth?" he extended, raising an eyebrow. Annabeth thought she heard amusement in his words.
"I never said that," she replied tightly, hating the now familiar feeling creeping up her bosom.
"Yes," he breathed quietly. "They came from inside the castle."
"Hm," she mused, quite determined to put an end to the conversation as that dreaded heat slithered down her abdomen.
"Your fiance is a bit of a prick," he declared abruptly.
She parted her lips to argue, but paused, the corners of her mouth curling upwards.
"Yes," she decided finally. "He is."
...
Annabeth trusted her sister. She really did. She thought her totally and utterly capable of adequately responding to the attack—but it couldn't hurt to patrol the corridors for any strange occurrences, could it?
No. Annabeth wasn't hurting anyone nor was she disobeying her sister by simply keeping an eye out. In fact, she was sure Rachel would be grateful if she found anything of note.
That was what the blonde continued to tell herself as she strolled the hallways, guards flanking her on either side. So far, she had encountered very little. She didn't mind, however, no matter how boring the evening turned out to be, it would rival discussing her outburst to Luke. She didn't particularly feel that she needed to explain herself—he had had been the one to storm into her conversation, after all—but she knew it would be expected of her. Everyone always expected something of her.
Annabeth heard a crash in one of the guest bedrooms, snapping her from her inner reflections.
"Go," she ordered the guards around who picked up speed, jogging forward to grasp the doors for her. It was only as she reached the large mahogany doors that she realized this was the Duke's room. She swallowed, her hand hovering in the air, holding off her guards, hoping to hear something—anything.
Nothing.
With a sigh, Annabeth pushed past the doors, aspiring to at the very least catch him off guard. She was delighted to do just that as his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes narrowed. He was hunched over his desk, a stack of parchment paper before him. There was a quill in his hand and a shattered bottle of ink on the ground.
He was writing a letter, Annabeth realized. She would have to request to examine the mail the next time it left the castle.
"Oh," Annabeth feigned a gasp at the sight of him.
He frowned, annoyance flooding his eyes.
"Pardon me," she shook her head, chuckling sheepishly. "I heard a crash and thought you might have been in peril."
He rose to his feet before addressing her. "Come to save me then, have you, princess?" he returned neutrally but she could hear his venomous undertone.
"I thought I might," Annabeth shrugged, eyeing the open letter still sitting on his desk. It was filled margin to margin with dark, messy writing.
He seemed to notice, rolling his eyes as he snatched the parchment from where it was and folded it in two, tucking it into his jacket pocket.
"Rachel did well," Percy remarked, watching her lazily.
"Excuse me?" Annabeth sought, distracted at the mention of Rachel.
He smiled. Her sister's name having had the intended effect.
"She did well," he reiterated, stepping away from his desk and towards her. "Though I suppose I should rather be crediting you for the thoughtful response—very insightful."
"N—no," Annabeth stuttered, caught aggressively off guard by the compliment. "She executed the plan—"
"Everyone has their own beliefs," he drawled. "I simply choose to believe what I saw. Your response was careful and strategic. I might have even thought it expert had you not been inaccurate in one aspect."
"And what aspect would that be?" Annabeth questioned sharply, unnervingly aware of his every minuscule movement as he crept closer to her.
"You told Rachel that the rebels likely originated in Atlantis," he explained, tilting his head to look at her thoughtfully. "But I know this to be misleading. My advisors have said nothing of any recent uprisings—in fact, they seem to have decreased since I have come to court."
His words pierced through her heart, dread filling her limbs like lead. Her mother had told her they were traveling to Atlantis after an insurgence. Why had she lied?—had she lied?—or perhaps Percy was lying—perhaps he was attempting to confuse her—he wanted to throw her off—to distract her from the real danger.
"And where do you suspect they came from then?" she asked, trying to maintain a relaxed front as her fear saturated her veins.
"Now that I could not pretend to know," Percy smiled wickedly with an incline of his head.
She watched him circle around her before sauntering to his bed where he laid back.
"Now please, your Highness," he remarked, pretending to yawn. "As riveting as I find your company, allow me a moment of privacy." He narrowed his eyes, something hostile and intrusive flashing across his bright irises. "I am still very overwhelmed by the events that transpired today."
Annabeth said nothing, simply examining him with disbelief before pivoting to exit.
"And Annabeth," he called as she reached the door. He smirked as she turned, biting hard on her cheek so as to not speak out of turn. "I'll be sure to yell if I need saving."
a/n: promise there's percabeth coming soon—like 2 or 3 chapters soon? idk, who knows, definitely not me. okay im clearly going crazy in quarantine.
ciao
