Welp, it's around time I wrote another one of these. I guess I'm back to my old posting schedule. I'll still try to speed things up, but I have school now.
Enjoy!
Annabeth couldn't help her mind from racing as she rode the carriage back home. Tonight was…one of the most engaging conversations she'd had in a while. First, it was a long chat, set against the ever-repeating backdrop of elegant, formal music and skirts brushing against the floor and shoes tapping against the lacquered marble floor. Second, it was a long chat with someone she'd always considered as her destined nemesis.
That was a thought that continuously popped up in her mind, even if she tried to forget it. Perseus Jackson, Poseidon, was someone her family hated, someone she should've been trying to best her whole life. It's just that, looking at him like that seemed harder, more difficult, when he took the time to carefully orchestrate a meeting between them just so he could open up about his faults and apologize.
Maybe it was how Annabeth was always taught, since she was a child in the cradle, that the one thing she absolutely could not live without, beyond her beauty and whatnot, was her sense of self-pride. She couldn't imagine apologizing to anyone about her faults so blatantly, so vulnerably.
But that led to another burning question. What caused him to treat her like a rag doll, and then step back and vow to change? Why didn't he stick to his original treatment, or just completely abandon her?
But, in the heart of their conversation, all these wonderings flew out of her head. All she could think of were the innocently hilarious jokes he told, that planted a huge, goofy smile onto her face, the little things he'd awkwardly reveal about himself, like his obsession with blue (Annabeth could guess that from the blue rose she'd received from him, instead of a red one) and sword fighting (for this, a few shameful images of him in fitted bronze armor came to mind) and how he preferred spending his afternoons in the pool instead of shooting pool or playing cards.
Except for that flaming moment when he grasped her wrist and she felt every single one of her nerves thrum before fizzing out into numbness, which she could hardly stop questioning and going over in her mind, it was just warm, casual, getting-to-know-each-other banter. Something she hadn't had for so long, it felt like a rare delicacy.
It was clearly rare to her, since when Percy started pointing his favorite types of gentlemen's overcoats, and then turned to her with, "And you?" she'd simply blinked at him. It was only when she finally recovered from the shock did she randomly pointed to a tailored purple coat with gleaming silver buttons.
And then Percy nodded and said, "Ah, that's nice," with a knowing look in his eye. He'd somehow caught her surprise even after knowing her for…well…now that Annabeth thought about it, more than two months.
Clearly, over that laughing, snack-sneaking, decidedly not dancing night, Percy managed to unknowingly edge into her "friend" territory.
Annabeth wrapped her arms around herself, and shivered slightly, not sure what to make of this idea.
Perhaps she was just too entranced by the idea of something forbidden, or maybe she actually wanted companionship, or she was possibly just taken by that night with all the jokes and—
A bump in the road slowed down the stream of thoughts scrolling through her mind. She shook her head. As usual, she was overthinking things. That would probably slow her down if she ever got involved in some swashbuckling adventure.
She tried to sort out her mind and pick out a productive topic when the familiar dove-gray façade of the Athena mansion came into view. Automatically, she straightened up, smoothed out wrinkles in her heavy satin-covered skirt, and made sure the ribbon handle of her receptacle was placed against her wrist just right. The large carriage wheels slowed at the paved driveway, and a footman with a modest lace collar came over to Annabeth's side, flung open the door, and held out his gloved hand with a small flourish.
Annabeth dutifully took his hand and, as gracefully as she could manage, stepped out. She tried not to visibly wince when her skirt lingered on the carriage floor for a second too long, causing the process of her daintily picking it up to be rushed. No doubt Madame Lark and Mother were watching her arrival from the second-floor's tinted windows. She released the footman's hand and waited for her sisters to emerge from their carriages before heading into the house.
The next few hours passed in a blur. She was herded upstairs, undressed and groomed by obedient maids' hands, and then guided into her soft bed where she fell into a deep sleep, only interrupted by nonsensical dreams of sea-green eyes and gentle touches.
-line break-
Annabeth was completely caught off guard when a servant boy brought up a sealed envelop to her. So was the rest of her maids.
She'd deftly sliced through the neat wax seal (it was just a generic web of swirls, maybe they were worried this would fall into the wrong hands) and unfolded a clean, spotless sheet with familiar, almost typewriter-like handwriting.
Annabeth blinked and looked up, shocked. When her surprise faded, she found herself staring into the face of Julia, who looked equally anxious. "Who is it?" she asked nervously, like she had an idea or two.
"Luke," she murmured, trying to push down the explosion of emotions in her chest.
Her maids all glanced at each other and then, simultaneously, each ran to a separate part of her room. "What gown, miss?" "Which jewels?" "Miss, the French perfume?" "Do you want a special lotion for your hands?" "Do you want an older purse?" "Which comb should I use on your hair?" A chorus of yells sounded from her vanity and wardrobe.
Annica came forward, clutching her hands together. "All your alright, miss? You look slightly… lost."
Annabeth pursed her lips. She was lost. She had no idea how to deal with him. But the invitation said he would pick her up in a quarter hour. She had no time to ponder these things. Annabeth had to meet him looking like a proper lady at the very least. She straightened her shoulders, placed the paper on her side table, and marched over to her closet, picking one of her more simpler gowns, and then to the waiting hands of her hands behind the dressing screen.
A few minutes left to a quarter of an hour later, Annabeth was picking her way down the newly waxed staircase, trying to not grip the smooth banister for dear life and scrunching up her toes in her silk slippers. After swallowing many, many grimaces and constantly steadying herself, she made her way down to the front doorway. And not a moment too soon.
Williamson smiled and bowed to her, and then spun around to open the door after there was a knock. A footman, dressed in the sturdy travelling attire only servants of the Hermes house wore, smiled pleasantly and bowed. "Hello, Lady Athena," he said in the light, formal, yet somehow mischievous tone Annabeth had heard so many times over her childhood. "My lord requests an outing with you."
"Yes, of course." She tried to smile back, but her nerves were twisting into complicated knots only a sailor could undo. "I welcome him."
Luke was then in front of her, with his ever-bright grin. "Annabeth, hello," he breathed. "How are you?"
"I am fine. You?"
"Now that I have the pleasure of your company, I am very well."
Her smile faltered slightly. This was still formal speech, but far more courageous than a basic, "good" that Luke preferred. What changed? "Thank you," she said after a pause. "My spirit lifts, too, at your visit. Speaking of which, where are we going?"
His grin widened. "Hyde Park. The very last trees are shedding their colorful leaves, and then we will wait for winter to settle in."
Her memory flashed to the time she was in the Demeter garden with Percy. He was startlingly poetic then, but now, he was more like the very beginning of a mystery novel. A blush spilled onto her cheeks, and she swallowed. "I greatly look forward to it. Shall we begin, or do you have any requests?"
"No, I look forward to it, too." He held out his arm, she effortlessly linked hers into it, and they strode out to the carriage.
As they sat across from each other and made their way down the bustling roads of London, Annabeth noticed through the grayish light from the window that his bright, friendly expression had disappeared and he was staring somberly out the glass.
Worried thoughts raced through her mind, she told herself not to analyze what happened during their last meeting, but she didn't listen. Through all the awkward, stilted silences, they seemed to shift into another world, one where Annabeth was no longer the little, braid-sporting girl Luke would easily hoist onto tall tree branches before clambering on himself. One where they faced a how slew of new decisions and paths, or maybe, where they turned away.
The unknown sent a chill through Annabeth. Luke, ever the chivalrous gentleman, noticed this through the corner of his eye and immediately whipped off his coat. He leaned in, looking worried and serious, and proffered his jacket.
"You must be cold," he said, not even waiting for a response as he gently guided it around her shoulders, carefully straightening it around her small frame. "Winter is approaching. Be careful not to catch the flu, Annabeth."
She nodded, darting a glance at him. He was studying her with a professional, searching look, but not her face.
Then they turned back to their respective windows, and while he looked like he was carved out of stone from the sparse looks Annabeth would sneak of him, her mind was turning its wheels so fast she could almost feel herself heating up. Theories and suspicions and questions and reports and studies surged up erratically in her head. She was so occupied with trying to sort through her occupied brainpan that when the carriage stopped by the park gates and Luke announced that they were there, she barely noticed. Only when he carefully touched her arm did she emerge back into the real world.
In the park, they picked one of the smooth, manicured paths and strode down it, mostly quiet except for a few compliments about the gardening and or the weather. Eventually, almost after an eternity, Luke looked over in her direction and began, casually, "Work has actually been rather eventful. I have lots to tell you, Annabeth."
They easily slipped back into their normal routine, where Luke would discuss all sorts of cases from the real world and Annabeth would try to learn and absorb it all. But all this new information didn't completely distract her, there was still an underlying current of unease, of confusion.
But nothing happened that afternoon. After that pleasant afternoon, Luke noted that the sky was darkening, and they both headed into the carriage.
She got a call from him a few days later. All those dull days of sewing and singing and dancing and playing piano had given her mind plenty of space to wander. She'd overanalyzed her relationship with Luke to an impossible point. So, her hands were shaking with apprehension as she approached him again in the front hall and then went with him to a sitting room. But their conversation was as smooth as still water. She'd been on the edge the whole hour, yet nothing happened. No mentions of their potential future together. No intense emotions, no abrupt signs of affection (or, the lack thereof).
And then there was a warm yellow envelop resting by her head when she woke up, and she opened to find the Hermes estate as the address on the bottom, and the whole process was repeated. Over and over, this running cycle.
The month melded into a blur. She continued to notice how he ever-so-dutifully watched out for her, and how his conversations were brilliant and pleasant and engaging—but not really. It was just for her to listen, and she found herself, for the first time, wishing she had something to answer him with. For the few days when he wouldn't find a spot in her schedule, Annabeth would furiously come up with ideas, responses to match his issues, but when she saw him in person with that shiny smile and clever manner all that would evaporate from her mind. And that moment, when he wouldn't stop worrying after her when she fell, wasn't the only one. He always seemed to keep an eye on her every need, and whenever there was an issue, he wouldn't stop at anything to make sure she was okay. Even if nothing really happened.
So, the month really wasn't a dull blank. Instead, her confusion and hesitation and negative feelings built up into a mammoth knot. She felt its pressure, every time she curtsied to him, every time she nodded at his words. She knew it would reach its climax, and then soon something was going to happen between them.
Annabeth wasn't sure how she felt about that either.
There was something grounding her, however. It was the only thing that helped her last through all these meetings. Something she would try to banish from her mind, but it didn't always work. Something that was so nice it could battle with all her confusion with Luke.
Every week, unrelentingly, Perseus would find a way to meet her. William Herdwick's calling card was a regular visitor on the card tray. They would chat on the balcony seats of his countryside mansion, drinking in the view of the barren fields, on quietly laugh in the fancily upholstered sitting rooms of the Athena mansion. They would stroll down the streams of the olive groves in her backyard, and the light filtering through the silver leaves would tint his eyes blue and light up the angles of his face. They would ride an open-top carriage in parks, smiling and talking way more than the normal lords and ladies. Perseus would send her crumpled invitations to the visiting circus, and she would be the only one in the shadowy seats of the tent in such glamorous jewels, but everyone was too busy wowing at the glittery people swinging around or twirling to notice. She would bring him to her favorite bakeries and introduce him to the best buttered croissants in London and smile behind her fan as he groaned happily. They would, of course, attend all kinds of dances, usually mortal, and alternate between whirling on the wooden floors or chatting behind potted plants.
It was so wonderful and easy to get used to and, well, normal but not normal at the same time that all her charged questions and wonderings about him slowly faded and she only had to smile at him and not laugh to hard at his jokes. One would think that, as their relationship progressed, she'd be thinking of who they were, but no, Annabeth could simply accept their fleeting touches and unforgettable moments.
It was a wonder she even could think of Luke when Percy was there.
Alright, I'm done. Was that too rushed? Or did you guys love it as much as I did. If I get enough requests I might do a separate oneshot about one of those days. That sounds incredibly fun.
Reviews:
Rocktay: Thanks! It's really nice of you to leave a review.
FantasyQueen2509: Yes, it was that cute. Thanks! And I'm really happy you review so much.