When she woke, Annabeth could make out the sun, bright in the sky, through the thin curtains. She squinted at the light, thinking it was probably rather late in the day. It didn't surprise her. She and Percy had been up until the early hours of the morning ignoring each other, fighting, and then—
Annabeth's heart pounded in her chest at the memory. She held her breath as she drew her hand away from his, examining it as if it might disappear before her very eyes.
From across the bed, she could see the slow rise and fall of his chest. The candlelight danced across the walls, flickering alongside the rhythmic beat of her heart as she watched him. He was more peaceful this way. The ever-present pinch of his brows gone.
Careful not to wake him, Annabeth considered his hand—the same one that had tucked so easily into hers. It was so much larger than hers, his fingertips littered with the remnants of calluses. An oddity for noblemen, a reminder that there was still so much she did not understand.
She longed to lace her fingers between his again, to feel the comfort of his touch. They had fallen perfectly between hers. She swallowed thickly at the feeling, glancing up at him. His lashes fluttered, and she felt her heart jump, quickly averting her eyes.
She wondered if this was what falling in love felt like, but the thought was far too much for her stuttering heart to handle. So instead, she wondered if things could have been different. If only she'd been born earlier, or he later. If only the world hadn't seemed so intent on subjecting them to unrelenting torture.
This couldn't be love, she thought, frowning unknowingly. Love developed overtime. Love was something unrelenting and uncompromising. Love was something you couldn't avoid or forget. It was unconditional—inflexible. It was the burn in her chest that reminded her that she would allow Rachel to live with Percy for the rest of their long happy lives.
No, this couldn't be love. If this were love, she wouldn't let him go.
"Planning on murdering me in my sleep?" Percy asked suddenly, making her start.
Annabeth inhaled shallowly, glancing up at him through her lashes. The furrowed had returned between his brows.
"I'm joking," Percy assured her with a deep sigh at her silence. "What are you looking at?" he questioned.
"Nothing," Annabeth shook her head, finally, her gaze dipping again to examine his fingertips.
She could feel his eyes on her, pleading with her to look at him—and she might have, had there not been a resounding ache in her chest warning her she was in too deep. Despite her refusal to meet his gaze, however, he continued to stare.
Annabeth grew unreasonably antsy and was a moment from dragging herself out of the bed when Percy's fingers moved—just barely at first, then purposefully, reaching out and taking her hand in his.
Annabeth inhaled sharply, her gaze snapping up to his. His green eyes seemed to utter a thousand questions, but his lips were pressed into a stern, unyielding line.
Heat coursed through her at his touch, mixing with the fear that was beginning to sink in at the thought of facing her sister's captors.
Annabeth's eyes flickered down to their intertwined fingers before shooting back up to his.
What are we doing? she wanted to ask.
"What?" Percy asked, seeming to read the question on the tip of her tongue.
Annabeth said nothing. She was afraid, she realized then. But it wasn't like Rachel's stories. She was no afraid that the feeling would be unrequited—no, rather, she feared that he would return the sentiment.
And then what?
She had so many questions, so many things she was still uncertain about, but then Percy's fingers were on her jaw, and she could think of nothing else. He traced his fingertips along her jawline, reaching forward to push aside a wild curl.
"I wish... " he said, stilling for a moment. And she forced herself to focus, but he said nothing else, cutting himself off violently—a flicker of what any sentiment would bring.
She found herself grateful, smiling once before stepping out of bed.
…
Percy checked them out of the inn, conversing briefly with the innkeeper. Once again, she observed how natural he looked chatting with others. He spoke with unprecedented ease, as if nothing were on the mind, as if she wasn't likely walking to her death in a few hours. He was abundantly charismatic, and as much as it had annoyed her once, she now looked at him with envy.
Annabeth wondered what others might have done with that power. What she might have done had their positions been switched.
As she and Percy made their way to the inn's stable, she found herself unusually preoccupied with the thought of his childhood. She wondered if he'd always been so talkative, so easily influential, or if he'd learned the skill over time. He was quite young to carry himself with such grace.
She considered then, as they saddled their horses and packed away their belongings, how little she still knew of his past. After all her research, she still did not understand his family's design in securing him as king—though she supposed that could be simple ambition. Still, after all the stories she had heard of him, the man standing before her seemed at odds with the majority of them. They had called him selfish and egocentric, but she had known him to be far different.
He was her sister's fiancé, her future brother-in-law, the future king, and yet, there were so many questions he had left unanswered. She wondered if he would have told her if she'd asked. She thought he might have. She wondered then, if she were simply too afraid to know the truth—though she supposed the truth didn't matter much if she died.
The thought made her laugh. The sound was morbid and hollow as it spilled into the air between them.
Percy turned to her, concern laced into the green of his eyes. She met his gaze, the gravity of the day falling on her shoulders.
"Do you think I'll die?" Annabeth asked bluntly.
Percy blinked at her.
As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn't asked. If needed any assurance of how foolish their plan was, Percy's expression asserted the notion. Worry, fear, and finally, hopelessness flickered across his features in the sliver of a second.
"No," he told her. "You'll survive."
He was lying—though she couldn't tell who to.
"I have something for you," he announced suddenly, his eyes glazing over. He fiddled with his saddlebag before retrieving something hidden in the leather ties. "Here," he said firmly, offering it out to her.
It was a bow and arrow. Annabeth furrowed her brow, surprised she hadn't noticed it earlier. She supposed she'd done a better job of avoiding Percy's eyes than she knew.
Annabeth took it from him with careful fingers. It wasn't the caliber she was used to, but it was sturdy, useful, firm. The familiar slope of it soothed her nerves for a moment, familiar assurance in her fingertips. She felt a sudden rather horrifying urge to throws herself into his arms.
"You brought this," she said instead, her voice wavering ever so slightly, "for me?"
"I know how good of a shot you are," Percy admitted with a hollow chuckle. "How could I forget? You nearly killed me."
"If I wanted you dead then—" Annabeth began her repeated argument with a roll of her eyes.
"Then I'd be dead," Percy finished for her, smiling. "Yes, I know. I believe you."
Annabeth didn't know she was smiling until she felt the expression fall from her lips a second later, the ominous ambiance catching up to her.
"What will we do?" Annabeth asked quietly, her words nearly carried away by the mist.
"Tonight?" Percy clarified, eyes swimming with the same questions.
"Yes," she said—lied—or maybe she told the truth. She wasn't sure anymore.
"I'll follow you until we're close," Percy explained, double-checking his weapons. "And then I'll hide," he continued. "I'll remain out of sight, but close enough that if you call for me, I'll hear you."
Annabeth nodded blankly, unsure what else she'd expected to hear. Her stomach was floating, rising and rising, waiting for the inevitable fall.
"I—" he hesitated. "Before we do this, I have to ask you again. Call your parents. Let them bring men to fight this battle. This is not your fault, it doesn't have to be your responsibility."
Annabeth couldn't help but smile. The words were empty, like he already knew she'd object—because he already knew she'd object.
"No," she said softly, shaking her head.
She stared at Percy, thinking she should say something, say anything. She wondered, then, if this would be their last moment, if this would be the last time she was permitted to look upon his face and want something more, want a tomorrow that wasn't possible for either.
"Thank you," she said in the end, half choking on the vowels. "For coming with me and for—um—"
The syllable stilled on her tongue, her mind whirring to a stop as she wondered what to say, how to emphasize that he had meant something—that for a moment, he had meant everything.
Trust, she realized then.
She hadn't realized how much his trust had meant to her until now, until he was nearly gone. Her whole life, there was an itch, a scratch at the back of her head, a tickle, a bitter taste on the back of her tongue. She thought people were protecting her, keeping her away from the issues. But it wasn't that, it had never been that, no, they didn't trust her. Despite what Luke had assured her. Despite what her parents had insisted. They hadn't trusted her. Even Rachel. Her sister, her closest friend, had lost trust in her somewhere along the way.
Annabeth recalled the story Luke had told her during one of their many strolls through the gardens. He had said the big three families had suffered from generations of bloodshed, that the deadly seven had poisoned their minds, turned them against each other.
She didn't know if she preferred it that way—then, at least she hadn't turned her own sister against her. No, if Luke was to be believed, then at least she had someone else to blame. Regardless of the origin of the feelings, however, Annabeth couldn't ignore that the trust that had come so easily to Rachel and her as children had disappeared.
But Percy, he'd been different. Despite her best efforts, he trusted her.
She wasn't naive. She knew he was keeping things from her. She saw it in his eyes, the way they hardened, turning steely and defensive at the mention of his family. She saw it in the guarded expression that overcame his features whenever she brought up the kingdom's questionable history.
And still, despite it all, he trusted her enough to follow her into the middle of nowhere. He trusted her enough to risk his life.
"Thank you for trusting me," Annabeth voiced.
And before she knew what was happening, he had thrown his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Annabeth stiffened at the rapid movement, caught off guard. She froze. She wasn't used to physical affection. It was hardly common in her family, the only one who seemed partial to affection was Rachel. Even Luke, for all he expected of her, did not often attempt to hug her.
Despite the unfamiliarity, she found herself melting into Percy's arms. She could hear the steady rise of his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart. She relaxed, tentatively looping her arms around his neck, the way she had last night. Her eyes flickered shut and, for a singular second, there was no kidnapping, there was no demanding family, that was no kingdom, there were no obligations or duties or—but then her eyes flickered back open, and the winter air sobered her.
With one final deep breath, Annabeth drew away from him, forcing herself to smile as she met his gaze. They would find Rachel alive and well. They had to find her.
But as she met his eyes for the last time, she found them glimmering with regret.
Annabeth swallowed back a lump in her throat at the sight. She said nothing, shaking her head lightly before turning away from him and mounting her horse.
…
They rode the rest of the way in a few hours, slowing only to avoid jagged patches of stone. Annabeth followed Percy, unsure whether to be suspicious or impressed with how well he seemed to know the terrain.
The night fell, and the foggy scenery turned dark and gloomy; the mossy under-footing giving way to scorched land. Annabeth couldn't help but think of the stories, of ominous trees and shadowed alcoves. It was almost unimaginable that her family owned this land. The setting looked utterly untouched by humankind.
Percy slowed his horse to a halt before her, inducing her to do the same. The faint moonlight lit up his features as he dismounted his steed and neared her.
"We should walk the rest of the way," he explained, stretching out a hand to help her down. "We'll want to have the element of surprise."
She stared at it uncertainly, but it wasn't like before. Her doubt no longer lay with him but with herself.
"Mhm," Annabeth agreed after a pause, fear dancing across her fingertips as she took his hand, jumping off her horse and joining him on foot.
The forest was dismally silent as they traveled the rest of the way. Every sound seemed to magnify in the quiet. She could hear each quickened beat of her heart, each terrified inhale and shallow exhale.
She made sure to stay close to Percy as he led her deeper and deeper into the woods, his presence the only comfort in unfamiliar terrain. She could just barely make out the crescent-shaped moon, razor-thin through the dark canopy overhead.
A twig unexpectedly crunched beneath her boot, making her flinch. She gasped, trying to control her racing pulse while keeping Percy in view when he stopped altogether. Her stomach dropped into a bottomless pit as he turned around, concern—no, fear splashed across his features.
"This is it," he whispered, though she heard him as clearly as if he'd screamed. "You'll have to go the rest of the way by yourself."
Annabeth's fingers tightened around her bow, her knuckles going white.
"I—" She should have known this was coming. She had known this was coming. "I don't know the way," she argued as despair sunk into her bones.
Percy shook his head softly, as if comprehending the true source of her anxiety, and stepped closer to her. His hand fell over her shoulder, and she felt his warmth through her cloak.
"Just through those trees, there's a clearing," he instructed, pointing forward. She could barely make out the land in the night. "There, you'll see a stone. It's difficult to miss, even at night."
Annabeth nodded hollowly, unsure what else to say.
Percy tried to step away from her but she stopped him, reaching out to grip his forearm.
"If I don't survive this—" she uttered softly.
"You will—" Percy hissed, panic flashing in his eyes.
"But if I don't…" Annabeth insisted, silencing him, but all her words fizzled on her tongue as she stared up at him.
She considered him then, eyes wide and terrified eyes, and wondered if he too feared death, or if he simply feared losing her. It seemed too romantic a sentiment to think, much less seriously consider. In the end, the words didn't come to her, so she leaned forward, slowly, softly pressing her lips to his. He responded in turn, a fragile touch reaching up to slide over her jaw, as if she might break—and for the first time in her life, she really thought she might.
When they parted, a broken exhale spread across her lips.
"Go," Percy told her, nodding at her as he swallowed thickly. He pressed an unlit lantern into her free hand. "Don't light this until you're there."
"Thank you," she said one final time before turning away from him and making her way deeper into the darkness.
a/n: hey girlies, again sorry this is short and for the long wait. it's finals so im a little wrecked rn. also I couldn't fit the crazies of next chapter into this one too so sorryyyy.
didn't edit, obviously.
anyway, dedicated to:MRPJfreak and goldenemk and some place
love u all tho! ciao, stay safe!
