May 27th, 1649

I am utterly confused. I don't know what to do or who to believe. There are hardly words able to describe how I feel.

I spoke to the guards—my guards—after her disappearance. They swept the room yesterday, just before we arrived, and found a dagger. It was small, easily concealable, but it carried my family's emblem—again.

My advisors insist there have been no changes in the plan, excluding the present predicament of course. I should have been married by now. So many lives have been lost already—and Rachel.

She is gone. I was hardly aware of just how attached to her I had grown until she had disappeared. I have always kept her an arm's length away, knowing compassion would only make her death more painful. Her disappearance appears to have exposed a weakness of mine. My mother did always say my heart would be the death of me, I suppose I never thought it would be the death of others though.

But this was not in the plan. She was not meant to go missing. The King and Queen were never meant to go to Atlantis. The wedding was never meant to be delayed. I should never have spent the night searching the city with Annabeth. Rachel should never have gone missing.

I have never been one to rely on a strict plan of action, but this is all wrong—everything is wrong.

Her parents are to return tomorrow morning. I can hardly sleep, plagued by the image of those men. Two of them were mine, sworn to protect my family at all costs—and yet, they were slaughtered by my family's blades. Can you imagine? Their souls must have screamed in anguish, filled with confusion at the betrayal.

I am filled with confusion.

I must sleep. Tomorrow will be—tomorrow.

P.J.

It wasn't was only after speaking to Percy that Annabeth began to notice the stares. They were everywhere, following her around every corner, down every corridor. There was no escaping them. But she never felt them so strong as the morning her parents returned.

Her servants had dressed her in a blood-red gown, careful to avoid her eyes. She just barely caught her reflection out of the corner of her eye but her heart stopped. She stripped herself of the fabric a second later, her lungs pained by the jagged movements.

She left her bedroom in beige, followed by frightened eyes. She felt them burn with every step but continued on, knowing it would not help Rachel to dwell on insignificant whispers. That was another thing that seemed to have magnified since Rachel's disappearance: whispers. They slipped through the cracks in the walls, tumblings down her spine, bleeding into her veins.

They're foolish children, Luke had assured her

They aim to damage you, he told her.

I love you.

She nodded, agreeing simply.

He was at her side every second of the morning, catching her the second she left her room. She was grateful. It was easier to withstand the charged stares if she could tell herself they fell on him as well.

"They'll know what to do," Luke assured her as her parent's gold-trimmed carriage appeared on the horizon.

Annabeth nodded, eyes glued to the approaching figures. She couldn't manage a word, the chill of the early morning stiffening her shoulders, sending goosebumps rippling over her bare skin.

She heard the loud crack of a whip and the patter of hooves. The courtyard around them went silent, but the stares remained.

Percy appeared across the crowd, stepping out from the shadows in a dark coat. Her gaze lifted to meet his, but there was nothing behind them. They were bloodshot and broken, and she faintly wondered if he loved Rachel too. The thought should have pained her, but she only felt guilty for ever allowing herself to become involved in their relationship. She should have allowed Rachel her freedom while she still had the chance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Luke's warmth, his hand brushing against hers. Annabeth felt her lashes flutter shut against her will, a mix of hope and dread shivering within her.

When her parents arrived, there was no grand announcement. Instead, her father stepped out of the carriage first. His head was drawn, dark circles ringing his ever-bright eyes. He glanced around the attendees tiredly. There was a staggered effort to bow, but he didn't seem to notice, stepping past the guards.

"Father—" Annabeth began at his abrupt exit but was cut off by his raised hand.

The air left her lungs with one gesture. He shook his head softly, blinking at her just once before striding into the castle without another word.

Annabeth's heart fell, despair drilling into her temples. And then her mother stepped out. Of all the stares, it was the one she feared the most. Her eyes fell on Annabeth almost immediately, but it was a look she didn't recognize. Her mother's jaw clenched, pausing as the attendees bowed for her. Her gaze never strayed but she didn't say a word. Annabeth's blood went cold.

And then she was gone, leaving nothing but whispers.

"What have you done?" her mother uttered coldly as soon as she entered their bedroom. Her guards had informed her that her company was requested by her parents, not that it made a difference. Annabeth spent the majority of the morning alternating between loitering around the door to the royal studies and their dormitory anyway.

Annabeth stopped, her parents' stares freezing her in place before the grand doors. "I—" she tried but it was useless. There was nothing to say. No explanation for her mistakes.

Her eyes drifted to her father who was standing in the corner, watching her with an empty gaze. The loss shown across his expression as she had never before witnessed. His skin clung to the bones of his face as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"Your entire life," her mother stole her attention, stepping forward swiftly, "I have asked one thing of you, Annabeth."

Annabeth sucked in an uneven breath, turning slightly to face her mother's fury.

"I allowed you your freedom with one request," the queen continued, closer still.

Annabeth felt hot tears spring up, singeing at the back of her eyes as she attempted to swallow a sob. The sight of her family, all together in one room highlighted Rachel's absence more concretely than ever before.

"I raised you to protect your sister," her mother hissed, just a foot away from her now. "We were gone for two weeks—"

"I know," Annabeth burst out, the tears tearing past her willpower and spilling down her cheeks all at once. "How do you think I feel? I loved her—"

The loud scratching of wood on wood interrupted her words. Annabeth turned towards the noise to watch her father entering his study, closing the doors soundly behind him.

"Why did you leave the castle then?" her mother prompted.

"What?" Annabeth asked dumbly. She'd known the question would come eventually, but nothing could have prepared her for the sentiments twisting her stomach into knots.

"The night your sister disappeared," her mother clarified inhumanly. "Why did you leave the castle?"

"I needed a book," Annabeth said simply, knowing it wasn't the best excuse.

"Don't insult my intelligence," her mother spat with a roll of her eyes. "We have a library."

Annabeth said nothing, pursing her lips silently. Her mother's mouth curled at the corners, turning to a cruel smile.

"Fine," she laughed coldly, turning away from the blonde. "Get out then."

"Mom," Annabeth protested with a gasp. She knew her parents would be angry, but it seemed as if they weren't even interested in finding Rachel. "I want to help—"

"No, Annabeth," her mother returned sharply, swiveling to point a rigid finger in her direction. "I refuse to live with liars in my family. Until you are prepared to tell me the truth—"

"That's ironic," Annabeth scoffed loudly.

She wasn't sure why she said it. Perhaps it was because she knew she had to get her mother's attention somehow, or perhaps it was because she'd barely slept in days. In the end, she blamed it on the adrenaline already pumping through her system.

"Excuse me?" her mother turned slowly, glaring at Annabeth with a set of terrifying gray eyes.

"Why were you in Atlantis, mother?" Annabeth asked carefully, observing as her mother's neck bobbed uncomfortably.

"If you have an allegation to levy—"

"And why did I find Sir Nicolas' stamp in your drawer?" Annabeth demanded, watching as her mother's entire body shook.

The queen stared at her for a second, eyes narrowed with disbelief. "So my daughter is a common thief now?" she questioned with a condescending sneer.

"Mother," Annabeth pleaded, recognizing the deflection. "Please. I don't want there to be any more secrets between us—if we want to find Rachel we—"

"No," her mother snapped, striding towards her until there were only a few inches between them. She'd always been taller than Annabeth but the disparity never felt so drastic as at that moment. "If you don't want any secrets—if you want to help find your sister, then why don't you begin by telling me why you were out all night with your sister's fiancé the night of her disappearance."

Annabeth swallowed thickly, struck by the bluntness of her questioning.

"I know you, Annabeth. I raised you. I know you love Rachel," her mother rushed on, every word careful and precise as it sliced into Annabeth's heart. "But even you must realize it's all a little too convenient."

Annabeth wanted to speak but her mouth was stapled shut, resigning her to silence.

"Don't force me to ask questions I don't want to," her mother finished, her voice turning soft at the pain in her daughter's eyes.

"Mother," Annabeth pleaded but the sound was a sliver of a whisper. "Please—"

"Everything—" her mother said with a tired shake of her head. "Everything your father and I have done has been to protect you—to protect this family, forgive me for believing you would do the same."

"Mother, I just want to understand—"

"No," the queen silenced her finally, taking a step backward as she glanced towards the study where Annabeth's father had gone. "I owe you absolutely nothing. Your father and I will do what we have to in order to bring Rachel home," she determined, turning back to deliver her final words. "Until then, act as if nothing plagues you and—and stay safe, Annabeth—as much as it pains me to say, you may be the final heir."

Dinner was served for the five of them that evening. Annabeth was informed by one of her servants who relayed the message from her parents, adding that they recommended she wear something appropriate.

Annabeth could help but roll her eyes at the request. She was half tempted to ignore the invitation as she had heard nothing more from them all day. Nevertheless, she hoped dinner meant they had decided to include her in their plans. To her disbelief, however, as dinner was served, her parents continued conversing as if nothing had occurred, the only sign of distress the whitening curl of their knuckles.

"Have you heard from your family as of late?" Annabeth's father asked Luke from across the table.

"I have, but their letters have been brief," Luke told them. "Just a few updates and inquiries about the lands."

There was a ringing echoing through Annabeth's head. She gritted her teeth, reaching for her drink but her throat was so stiff she could hardly swallow.

"How is the weather in Andalucia?" Annabeth's mother inquired politely. "I hear it is lovely this time of year."

"Oh yes," Luke assured her adamantly, "I quite miss it." He threw Annabeth a smile, his brow furrowing slightly as he noticed her growing distress. "Though I wouldn't give up this time with Her Highness for even the most lovely spring."

"Ah—" Annabeth's mother's chuckled good-naturedly.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Annabeth demanded suddenly, rising to her feet in frustration. She could feel her blunt nails curling painfully into her palms.

"It's quite rude to interrupt," Annabeth's mother noted, not meeting her eyes. "Did you have something to add?" she questioned, casually sipping at her wine.

"Of course I have something to add," Annabeth scoffed, looking around the group for any support. "Don't you all?" Her father was staring down at his full plate, her mother was wearing a warning, Luke was still smiling, and Percy just looked tired.

Annabeth couldn't believe it.

"Rachel is missing and we're sitting around the table," she sputtered half-hazardly, faintly noticing her mother's expression grow more grave with every word. "We're—we're all talking like we don't even care—like she was never here to begin with—"

"Annabeth," her mother cut her off sharply. "You don't know what you're talking about—"

"Then tell me—" Annabeth pleaded.

"Annabeth," her father's voice boomed across the table, the severity of it catching her by surprise. "Sit down."

She went silent, hyper-aware as each pair of eyes left hers, tracing the amenities to avoid catching her gaze.

"Duke Jackson—oh, that seems awfully formal," Annabeth's mother said then with a chuckle, her carefree jovial demeanor resumed. "You'll be family soon enough. Can I call you Percy?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Percy assured her with a shadow of a charming grin.

"Excuse me," Annabeth breathed, standing up again.

She ignored the incredulous stares as she rushed out of the dining room, her chest on the brink of imploding. Once outside, She raced across the corridor to a windowed alcove. There, alongside the night air, she felt she could finally breathe again.

She shut her eyes, her ears catching the faint clang of metal around her; a reminder that she could never be alone, no matter how hard she tried. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the moon, it was cut clean in half.

She had hoped her parents would arrive with a formulated plan to rescue Rachel but they seemed intent on keeping it from her. They had asked her to act normal, as if she had no worries but how could she when her sister had been kidnapped. With every passing hour—no.

She refused to think that way. She couldn't allow herself to fall into the mental holes that would plague her for hours. They did nothing to secure Rachel's safe arrival.

A gust of wind swept across Annabeth's exposed clavicle just as a warm hand settled on her shoulder. She turned to find Luke beside her, a sympathetic grimace imprinted into his lips.

"I'm sorry," he lamented, his eyes dancing with worry. "We'll find her soon."

"I know they're hurting too," Annabeth said in a hushed tone, her words spilling into the cool air like secrets. "But I wish they would tell me what they're planning, then maybe I could—I could help."

"Annabeth," Luke consoled her. "Your parents have been on this planet much longer than either of us. They know what they're doing."

"But they are asking me to carry on a charade," Annabeth exhaled, running her fingers through her hair.

"A charade?" Luke frowned, peering down at her.

"Yes, a charade," Annabeth confirmed with a nod of her head, turning to look up at him. "They are asking me to carry on as if nothing ever happened—to act happy—but I know I cannot be happy until my sister is safe."

"And if she never comes back?" Luke questioned softly, reaching forward to push a curl out of her eyes. "If she is never safe."

Annabeth blinked, stepping away from him with a deep frown. "No," she insisted loudly, shaking her head fervently. "I won't allow myself to think that way. I will not accept her death until I see her with my own two eyes."

Luke sighed, nodding in understanding.

"Nonetheless," he continued, prying his eyes from her to look out onto the horizon as she had before. "We must be careful. We cannot begin to arouse suspicion or others will know—" he cut himself off, knitting his brows tightly as if he'd made a mistake.

"Others will know what?" Annabeth scowled. "Does the kingdom not know of Rachel's disappearance? Surely the court has informed the citizens—a search party must have been formed—"

"No, no," Luke hushed her quickly, gazing down at her reassuredly. "I just meant it's always best to keep your feelings contained—as to not worry others."

Annabeth stared up at him, observing the ever-present twitch between his brows, the flick of a barely-there frown.

"You're lying," she determined, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why are you lying—"

"Annabeth—" Luke sighed.

"No, Luke," Annabeth returned sharply, stepping away from him. "You asked me to trust you—you promised me I could trust you, and yet you would lie to my face."

"Annabeth," Luke huffed dismissively. "I only meant that we should follow your parent's orders."

"I told you I loved you," Annabeth scoffed, disbelief washing over her.

"And do you?" Luke returned abruptly, striding towards her.

"Do I what?" Annabeth sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Love me?" Luke inclined, his jaws tense beneath his skin.

Annabeth's heart stuttered. "Yes," she said simply.

"Then trust me," Luke implored, reaching forward and taking her hands in his. "Trust me when I tell you it was nothing but a slip of the tongue, a slight misunderstanding."

Annabeth considered it for a moment, running his words and slighted idiosyncracies through her head and coming to the ultimate conclusion that he was without a doubt keeping something from her. To her disappointment, however, it didn't come as a surprise.

But then again, was she any better?

"Okay," she told him.

"Okay?" he echoed, his brows raised skeptically.

"Yes," Annabeth agreed with a forced roll of her eyes and a sweet smile. "I trust you."

"Good," Luke grinned, bringing her hand up to his lips and giving her fingers a soft kiss. "Now let's go back to dinner—"

"No," Annabeth objected abruptly, then fixed her tone. "I'm quite tired," she emphasized with a lamented sigh. "I was so wrecked with worry that I hardly slept last night."

Luke nodded, appearing to come to the same conclusion.

"Do you want me to see you back to your bedroom?" he questioned carefully.

No, she wanted to say, to cry, but figured doing so would only deepen the doubt lingering in his icy blue irises. "Only if you want to," she shrugged primly, casually. "I'm quite capable of making it myself," she added for good measure.

"I never said you weren't," Luke chuckled warmly, offering her his arm. "I would love to escort you."

It was a short walk back to her bedroom. He bid her goodnight at the door, bowing as the armor clinked around her, eyes crawling beneath her skin, boring into her. She thought she could be free of them when she entered her bedroom but before the doors had shut behind her she stopped in her tracks, an obscure aura prickling at her nerves.

Something was off, something was different

Annabeth turned on her heels, addressing the guards as they held the doors open at the last minute.

"Has anyone been in here?" She questioned, trying to see beneath the armor that covered their features.

"Of course not, Your Highness," one of them assured her.

She offered them a stiff nod in acknowledgment before gesturing for them to close the doors. They followed, and she was left alone in her bedroom. Slowly, she paced forward, slivers of frost embedding themselves into her skin, turning her to blood to ice.

Everything was perfect. Her bed was made, the sheets tucked neatly into the mattress and the duvet fluffed over it all. Her cloak was thrown over her chair, balanced perfectly. Her desk was organized into three piles, just as she'd left it—and yet, something was different.

It was if the very air had changed, the atmosphere around her swallowing up all the light in the room. A lukewarm bead of sweat dripped down the back of Annabeth's neck as a streak of fear slivered down her spine.

Then she saw it. There. Tucked perfectly between the first fold of the duvet and her pillow, a note.

Her heartbeat echoed through her ears, pounding down any thoughts as she reached forward with shaking hands. Her heart dropped as her gaze fell over the script, her mind crumbling. She wanted so badly to cry but couldn't summon the tears. She fell helplessly against the bed, the note between her fingers.

Stone of Ultio

June 1st, midnight

Come alone.

Your sister's life rests in your hands.


a/n: yeah, sorry for the cliff hanger in advance lol. anyway, as always, love you all. didn't edit, obvi

dedicated to Singularspeck77 and Beebo

ciao, see u l8r