Hi, I'm finally back. Yeah, I know, I did take my time posting. But I kind of lost inspiration, and did a lot of other stuff, but not this. Sorry. But now I having creativity now. Because, um, I'm literally sitting on my balcony looking at the moon. Yep, I'm an overexaggerated poet at heart with no real poetry skills. Yeah…
But I think you guys will really like this one. I'm been waiting for it quite some time. I don't think it can live up to being recommended (like, what? When did that happen?) but it should hopefully be pretty good. I've got the moon glaring at me to make it.
Enjoy!
Fifteen years ago, a little girl hopped down the finely cut stone steps of her home, humming and her golden curls bobbing with each step. She smiled a wide, sweet smile, dimples cutting into her cheeks, and her movements were clumsy but light as butterflies.
Waiting outside in her yard were two taller, grinning children, almost unconsciously condescending as they watched her make her way over to them, her hair springing up and down. The taller one, a boy with a shock of pretty sandy hair, held out his hands, crouching down slightly. The little girl toddled her way into the hug, squealing as she was lifted.
The older girl, her dark hair short but falling into her eyes, elbowed his skinny ribs with an equally skinny, but calloused, elbow. "Stop acting like such a dad."
The boy set down the little baby, his smile remaining as bright as usual. "I'm not Annie's daddy," he said, pulling her to his side-or, his leg. "Annie" stared inscrutably at the older girl. "I don't have a dad," she said in an almost-hoarse voice, one that seemed to be normally out of use. "But you and Luke are family."
A smile broke through on the other girl's rugged face. "Yes, yes, we are," she said, her voice softening temporarily. She grabbed Annie's chubby little fist and ran, her boy breeches billowing around her but still staying firm and versatile. Luke chuckled and started after them, keeping his run easy so they wouldn't be outmatched.
Ten years ago, a tall, pertly dressed girl was polished and tied up and herded to a hallway she'd only set foot in a few times. Her nanny gently pushed her into a large, sunny room and shut the door behind her. Desks were set up in rows, facing the front, where a spectacle-sporting old man with short gray hair commandeered a scribbled-on blackboard.
His face lit up slightly. "Are you Annabeth Chase?"
She flinched a little at her middle name. Her mother never liked saying it, her siblings all avoided it. "Yes," she said quietly. "Present."
He hustled over and guided her into a chair in the front row, smiling wide the whole time. "I've heard lots about how smart you are. I can't wait to have you in class."
At first, he did the benign talk: briskly introducing her fellow classmates, her siblings, running through the lessons' summaries. She took the time to examine the classroom. It was filled with impeccable projects, heavy textbooks, and her siblings were all older than her by a few years, some of them sporting glasses too already.
Then the old man knocked on his board and started talking about Euclid. Annabeth sat completely upright, grabbed a stylus, and scribbled on her tablet, grinning widely the whole time.
Eight years ago, Annabeth was taken to a huge dress shop. It was vast, hung with scrolls of cloth, and stern women bearing measuring tapes and pins. The briskness of her mother's walk guided her forward, into a small but elegant room in the back. It was dark, lightly wallpapered, and mirrors stood on every side. In the middle was a little upraised platform. She was guided onto it, and even sterner women flocked to her.
Her favorite shift was tossed away, and every inch of her was measured up and tsked over. Her comfy, worn undergarments were replaced by heavily starched linen ones, and then she was wrapped over and over in hard, unforgiving materials with what seemed like rigid pieces of metal holding them together until she felt herself shrinking.
More and more assistants went to her mother, bearing over-decorated strips of cloth, holding them up against her and frowning. The line never ended; the stack of neatly wrapped packages never stopped growing.
She was never offered a shift after that day. Corsets became the new trend for her, just like it had done in society years ago.
Five years ago, a stately, purple-dressed woman strode into her breakfast time, taller and faster than her mother, she seemed. But no, they were on the same side.
Madame Lark spoke with a grating French accent, crisp enough for Annabeth to understand, so she would have no excuses, but thick enough that she sometimes felt dumbfounded, and had to get reprimanded. She'd been learning French already, but she'd been warned to never, ever mix the accents.
But that's what she heard daily, for hours on end, instructing her how to look, how to act, how to dress, how to talk. How to be a lady.
Manners used to come naturally to her, curtsying was just child's play. But this was a new world, a crueler one where she had to limit her every word, memorize entire conversations deemed to be appropriate, get introduced to horrific beauty treatments. She kept a little vial of dark liquid on the antique pianoforte in the corner. It was one of her last resorts, but if Annabeth's pupils did not dilate widely enough before her Season, no man would want her, and she would have to use some belladonna. And then came the aching, almost permanent, from every lesson, every practice, every exercise.
Annabeth suddenly didn't want to learn.
One year ago, the gossip grew more and more fervent. Heavy. Ladies noticed their gentlemen with the eyes not of wishful dreaminess, but of almost predatory claim. They watched them carefully, talked to them as much as they could get away with, gossiped about them every waking hour.
It could get dreary. Annabeth did like talking about Luke, of course, he was so kind and the perfect gentleman. But then the girls started talking about their proposed children, what kind of wedding ring they would get, or simply, oh! The wedding! She didn't want to think about that, not about Luke getting down on one knee in front of her, not him hugging a swaddled baby with her hair and his eyes to his chest, none of that.
Ladies bought new gowns, new jewelry, found better perfumes, went to the opera every day and attended church in even starchier coats. They always gravitated around, darted to one man and then came back squealing to her friends. Got out their fans, fluttered them hard whenever guys were around. A lot of them perfected fan flirting. Tilt to the left, fan twice, meant I'm leaving for the powder room now but I'd like to see you when I get back do wait for me, and so on.
Annabeth dutifully purchased her own fans, but they normally stayed in her purse when she and Luke started talking. It wasn't like she could remember any of the flirting methods either. (Actually, with her spectacular memory that went down to the nine hundredth digit of Pi, she could, but she could barely draw fan patterns from her mind. The only thing she remember was that a quickly closed fan meant, "go away, please.") Luke, to his credit, never expected her to be like that. He was content with her spotless manners and perfect posture.
Their dances together were now fun, because she got more and more with him, and no one would say anything. She was almost becoming a society girl, and that excited her.
Now, everything was different. She was clomping across the countryside in boots, wearing the lightest cotton gown and a heavy shawl, waiting to meet a gentleman she was on the verge of being friends with, the very one that her family despised.
She didn't even spare herself a smile as she crept through the white-painted gate that guarded the Herdwick backyard.
She slowed in front of the steps. Before she could wonder, "Do I wait now?" A match lit dramatically in the night, piercing through the dim moonlight. It floated downwards, and one by one, lighted three candles. They released their flowery scents with a breathy gust.
The candles stood in front of a man, and illuminated him well. He grinned at Annabeth, his teeth glowing ivory. Pushing his hat up, his sea-green eyes sparkled, as bright as fire. With four wide, confident steps, he came to her.
"Annabeth," he breathed in a whisper. "You came."
She nodded, keeping her eyes on his. "Yes."
He took a miniscule step closer. She followed him. Separating their chests were a tiny sliver of atoms. To look up at him, her chin almost touched his breastbone.
"Hello," she said softly. "Fair night, isn't it?"
"Yes, fair indeed." His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but she heard it well.
"What do you need to tell me?"
He turned his jaw slightly, his eyes glittering like sun dancing on water. "Do you have everything?"
Her voice raised, turned monotone. "Heavy, warm clothes. Boots. Blankets. Oil lanterns. Yes, complete."
His eyes warmed, changing color with the candlelight. "Good. List something else, please?"
Annabeth's hand lifted, twirling in the air as she said, "Dark night. Crescent moon. Candles. You, Percy."
"Yes, complete," he said back.
She leaned back, allowed her expression some seriousness. "What do you need to tell me?" She repeated.
He smiled. "Did you come here out of curiosity?"
"Don't answer my questions with more questions, even if they're rhetorical."
"Fine." He grinned. "Wait for me."
"Of course," died on her lips as he loped back to his house, clambering onto the back porch. Puffing his cheeks, he blew out the candles one by one. Now, she could only faintly make out his shape and a small gleam in his eyes. "Follow me," he said as he bypassed her to the fence, holding it open.
They trekked out into the harvested field, taking an already worn path. He wore black boots, too, but his steps were heavier and more careless.
He stopped, stepped to the side all of a sudden. Annabeth came over to him and breathed out an excited, amused laugh. A little rough canvas blanket was set out, rimmed by a few oil lanterns. It didn't do much to illuminate, but it was good enough.
"Come on," he said, pointing to it. Annabeth sat down first, smoothing her skirts out, and he settled in beside her. From the foot of the tarp he produced two gray lumps.
"What?" she said, tilting her head questioningly. "Food? No, wait, it's heavy solids. Cases? Stones—"
"Calm down," he said, holding up a hand. He set them up her feet, and then one by his.
Heat spread up her body immediately, and more waves warmed her ankles. "Coal, wrapped up in burlap. Ah."
"You were close," Percy said, settling back next to her.
"Yes, I was." She smiled, tucking her blanket around her and setting her lamp next to her arm.
Percy draped another blanket over them, both of them. He was producing quite a lot of things out of the dark. He then straightened it, so there was no cloth falling into the canyon between their forearms. They both looked forward for a second, silent.
Then she leaned in, but careful not too much. "So? What do you want to tell me?"
He held up a finger, raised an amused eyebrow.
Pursing her lips in annoyance, she fell back. After resettling and shifting around on a pillow he'd given her, she had to ask something. "Why here, then? On a winter night? Why not by a fireplace?"
"Trees," he whispered, smiling.
"Oh." She felt guilty for not thinking of that. "Of course." She sensed an "and" coming up and gestured for him to continue.
"Ssh," he whispered, and tilted his head back.
She did, and felt her breath slip out of her. The night sky was brimming with stars. Thousands of millions of billions of infinity stars up above her. So bright and so dark at the same time, they blinked and glimmered and twinkled and sparkled, like, like, stars.
She almost ached at this beauty. How could she have missed this all her life in the polluted London days? But no pain or regret came with that. Only more awe, punctuated by her icy breaths, more amazement, more flooding, delicate hope. It was irrational, she knew, and maybe it had to do with Percy beside her, or this unperceivable universe unfurling in front of her, but it was there and it was standing there firmly.
They remained silent for a long, long time. Until slowly, deliberately, Percy raised a gloved hand and traced a small portion of sky. Annabeth squinted at her. "Perseus?" she asked quietly, certainly.
He nodded, set his hand down. She knew it was her turn, even without them speaking.
She picked out three brilliant pinpricks of light.
"Orion's belt," he whispered with a laugh in his voice.
He traced Ursa Minor and Major. She followed with Taurus. He found Hercules. And so on, stretching their astronomical knowledge to the limit, finding their own shapes in this unmappable new world.
Finally, both their hands had rested, after picking out Polaris. They knew they could never get lost with that, wouldn't need more than True North.
"Thank you," she said. "This was…" she didn't have to elaborate.
"Are you going to ask what I'm going to tell you?"
She felt him glancing at her from the corner of his eye, but she kept looking up. "I know you will. Proceed."
He swallowed, went silent for a few minutes. Then he said quietly, "Did your Mother pick you to go to the Olympus gala?"
"That's rhetorical, isn't it?"
"Did she also pick your teacher? Madame Lark?" His voice grew harder for the last part.
"Percy," she said, a weak warning. One that wouldn't get him to stop, maybe didn't even ask for that.
"Or is she enough?"
She sank her head into a pillow, set her eyes upon silver light. "All rhetorical."
"I don't want her to have this control over you." He sat up, twisted his body to look at her. "I don't want her to have this control and be so wise but use it so wrongly."
"Wisdom is more than that." The words barely slipped out of her lips.
"What?" He seemed near to exploding. "Wisdom in its very basis is knowing how to treat others. You know that, don't you? You know everything else."
She tried a bleak question, tried to push him back. "How do you know this? Why are you getting involved?"
He quieted. "I can tell. I've visited you enough times. Even in a low hat."
She focused on the dim, orangey light of the gas lanterns. "I don't think you do."
Frustration twisted his words. "I'm sorry I'm not as smart as you. But I know this."
"I never said—You're—" the breath and words ran from her as shock gathered inside her, forgetting his last statement entirely. Did she ever think like that? How did she make him think that? What was this?
"You don't talk about it, of course not."
"No, it's—never mind. I don't want to talk about this. So, I don't."
"Don't you need to? Haven't you been holding it inside long enough?"
"Maybe not."
"Maybe yes. I know your mother mistreats you, doesn't give you your worth." He paused, let that hang temporarily in the night air. "You can say it aloud if you wanted to."
"What's the point?"
"You can do something about it, anything, as long as it's not only within you."
"I can't. Do anything." Defeat bore down on her, heavier than anything she could imagine. She never gave up before.
"Yes, you can." His words came out faster, more emotional. Did-did she see a tear in his eye through the lantern light?
"What, then?" she resumed whispering.
He shook himself, but the tears kept pooling. "This." And then he was nearer, and there was little to no gap between them, and his shoulders tentatively leaned forward and touched hers. She didn't move. Percy pressed forward, his arms wrapping around her back. He held her carefully, gently, but pressed her against him.
Her chin fell onto his shoulder, his broad shoulder that cut into any background, as easily as it was always there for her. Her sadness didn't leave, and her defeat only lessened infinitesimally. But something new came with this embrace. She didn't know what it was, but she somehow felt better with it.
"Do you want to release anything right now?" He whispered in her ear, and she shivered slightly. Once he was down tucking the blanket around her, she nodded into his shoulder.
But she still paused. Part of her hated how he managed to tear her down so easily, part of her was scared at where they were now, and part of her was unimaginably happy about having someone who saw through her and understood her. Annabeth pushed aside all those parts and said softly, "I never had a father. He stopped being mine as soon as I was two. He married a new wife, and they immediately got a set of healthy boy twins."
"And you remembered all of that while you were two, right?"
"Of course." She stopped, reshuffled her thoughts. "And then my mother was sometimes there, but not really. And when she was there, she never showed anything. Never said anything compassionate or adoring, or even motherly. Always came with a set of orders, of expectations."
His arms tightened around her imperceptibly. She still had enough room to slip out if she wanted to, but she didn't. "But her presence was always there. Always looming, so I could never say I didn't have a mother.
"I tried so hard to be a lady. Past tense, you'll notice. I understood propriety as well as anything, I loved being able to dress up and talk with adults. And it was expected of me, so I performed." She pulled back a little, looked up at the stars. They glimmered distantly, didn't answer to her. Before all her courage could slip out into the chilly night, she said in a rush, "Iwasn'tenough."
Percy understood her mumbling as well as her presentative speech, and pulled her back into his arms. Finally, he said something. "Don't measure your worth by someone who doesn't know you, hasn't taken a chance to know you."
"She's the smartest woman alive. Maybe even human."
"She still doesn't know you."
"Then who?"
He stopped. To his credit, he didn't say himself. "Actually, no, I was wrong. Annabeth, you shouldn't measure yourself with anyone. In fact, you don't need to. You're equally clever. You should know exactly how much you matter."
Then, what? Nothing? Annabeth's expression twisted with bitterness, and she gently extracted herself from Percy, laid down. She looked up at the stars, but not really seeing, as her mind started whirling. If her mother was so smart, but didn't know her, how could she be able to measure herself? When lacking this, what else should she do except to turn to others, and then compare them easily? Jason was more responsible, gifted with natural leadership skills that anyone could see, Piper was cheerier, stronger, much more capable with emotions, Calypso was so talented, so unique, Thalia was so much fiercer, and even Luke was more caring, more polite. And then, of course, Athena was smarter. She fell at the end of everything.
Percy had said, "You don't need to." What else did she get to do? How did she know her own worth, anyway?
No, she did. She knew wasn't worth much, wouldn't ever be able to contribute anything good to anyone.
With this sentiment came a pall of doubt, from the ever detached and rational part of her. Were these thoughts coming from, as Percy just pulled out of her, getting "mistreated"? Or were they because of what everyone claimed she had-extreme humility? No, no, not that. She was born as an Athena daughter, and that came with an almost unhealthy supply of pride. It was something she'd grown used to, but now, thinking back on it, shame grew on her.
Whenever servant boys or maids came into her room, even if to pour tea, she never greeted them. Annica and Julia and such were good companions, but she never really viewed them as friends. When mortals, or even her relatives, bumbled with their English or their knowledge, she would always internally shake her head, just because they weren't raised like her or injected with her automatic learning genes.
Was this pure irony? She wondered. One second, thinking I'm worthless, and then thinking I'm so clever, and then being ashamed of thinking that. Annabeth turned from the sky. It was too overwhelming for her to look at.
And then, the last turn on this dizzying ride, she realized one last problem. The whole reason she just said all that about her own worthlessness was definitely affected by the people around her. By how they treated her. By how they ingrained her with a heady sense of insecurity. And that, itself, was a thing of pride.
Thoroughly shaken by all her mental revelations, she turned to Percy. "I can't believe myself," she said quietly.
"I can't either," he said, gazing at her with soft adoration in his eyes.
"Well, what now? Seriously."
He scooted closer to her. "Just stop thinking like that. Push yourself to be different, every single day. And whatever else you come up with, change it too."
She tried to envision it. Herself, struggling with humility and pride. Eventually establishing a spot for herself somewhere in the middle, where she stopped calling herself higher than anyone else, nor lower. Where she really tried to meet everyone as their equal. "That-that's impossible."
"No, it's not. Why do you think that?"
"No one else is like that, I'm not supposed to be—different." She looked up, into his eyes, searching for closure.
"Annabeth," his voice was soft, "You and I, we were meant to be different."
"Really?"
"Yes."
And then fantasy stole her away, into another different world, where she would turn away when Madame Lark asked her to straighten her spine more, when an old rich man asked her to dance, and when Athena told her the date for her next dress fitting. So many more dances behind couches, laughing with Percy. Smiling at all the servants, treating Annica like a real friend.
It sounded wonderful.
"Thank you for tonight," she whispered to him, leaning over.
He smiled back. "It was my pleasure, Annabeth."
With the moon and the stars shining on him, his hair was highlighted silver and gray in some parts, and blended into the night with some others. His eyes glowed like a calm ocean at morning, lulling her to peace.
"Don't I get something to ask you back?" she teased, for the first time not actually having thought of something.
"Of course." He gestured. "Anything."
Under the heat of his gaze, suddenly all the questions she'd ever been harboring about him bubbled up. It was hard to sort through them, hard to determine which ones deserved to be asked and which ones were too embarrassing to share. Finally, steadily holding his gaze, she took a deep breath and asked, "Why did you decided to take on the alias of 'William Herdwick'?"
He stared at her for some time, then swallowed heavily and looked away. "I didn't want to treat you like I used to anymore."
"Why?" she whispered, trying to encourage him to go on.
"I got to understand you, got to see how you were different, and got to see how you really felt. Then I realized I had to stop. Change…started with you, even though it was the most nerve-wracking and scary thing." He kept avoiding her eyes, so she settled back and listened.
"So, you apologized to me."
He nodded, almost bashfully.
"But why did you have to?"
He stopped talking for some time. "I don't know Annabeth. I was just used to acting like that. I was a gentleman, but a rich, powerful one. I was supposed to use that to my advantage. That was how I was supposed to act."
"Or was that just what you were told, so you could live up to your family?"
He glanced sparsely over at her. "You're smart, Annabeth."
"You figured me out, too."
They stopped talking, content with each other's answers for now. They watched stars moving above, constellations rising and dipping. She listened to Percy breath, watched the oil lanterns waver. She heard the stillness of a winter night, and the heartbeat of someone who'd released the heaviest weight she'd been carrying around. Annabeth felt the contentment of two people who finally matched up with one another.
Percy's hand moved nearer to hers, and her skin tingled as the blanket rustled. She shifted hers a midge too. The sides of their palms met in the middle.
Then, carefully, deliberately, experiencedly, his hand slid under hers. He had a heavy leather glove on, and she had a cotton one, but his warmth was still there. Her nerves jumped as he hooked his thumb in the space on her hand. Her heart was racing, racing so fast the thumps blurred into each other, as the rest of his fingers slid into hers. She chanced a glance at him, then looked back up at the stars. They seemed sharper, more vivid somehow.
It was a long time that they lay there, hands entwined, when Annabeth whispered, "Forget all of the other influences. Let's both be different."
He didn't answer, only continued holding on. Then, in one smooth motion, the blankets and his coat swishing, he turned and leaned over her.
His face was dark, the sides an orangey-brown from the lanterns, and his eyes glowing bright, so bright she almost couldn't see the stars. He paused, and when she didn't shake her head or move away, he leaned closer, until their chests were almost on top of each other.
"Do you promise that we'll both change?"
She nodded. His eyes burned more intensely. "Yes," she said aloud.
He inclined his head pleadingly.
"Yes, I promise we'll both change," she amended, grinning up at him.
"Good," he breathed, tensing as if he wanted to settle back down.
She held up her other hand. Wait. "Can you promise me something else?"
He raised a midnight-colored eyebrow.
She leaned in, so close until his face slipped from her vision, until she could only see his sea-green eyes, until their breaths intertwined and grew warmer together.
He was quiet for a few moments, for two heartbeats. His eyes dropped from hers, roamed across her face, finally returned to hers. "Yes," he whispered, his breath grazing her lips, his skin almost touching her skin.
Her eyes slid shut, and two sea-hued pupils disappeared from her vision, but she knew that in the dark that came, he was there too. She didn't pause. Annabeth leaned in, and her lips touched his.
Oh my gosh that was so INCREDIBLE I wish I could be there and watch them like a creepy person… oh dear did I ruin it? Actually, I suspect some of you might agree with me. Heh.
Thank you for still being there, whoever is reading this. I'm sorry, I never update, but was this worth it? Okay, no, I was gone for way too long. But yeah, I have to really thank some of you devoted readers. You guys are great. So are the new people, I still can't believe so many of you decided to click on the link.
Oh, btw, this isn't the last chapter. I know, it sounds like an 'acknowledgements.' I'm just grateful. And I don't really have that much else to talk about *cough*. If you're thinking, what else could happen, I have a few things up my sleeves. But yeah, this'll be done soon.
Chapter 16 reviewers:
FantasyQueen2509: Haha yes you're hilarious! I know, that's funny, but also annoying, because my friends can be seriously creepy about some things and I've called them crazy for that like a million times. Yeah, I know it took me so long sorryyyyyyyyy. I won't make you guys wait, and due to some strange, deep, deep inner resilience or obligation to you guys, I won't quit. I don't understand why. I wasn't facing writer's block, not really, I just didn't really feel like writing. Thank you, though! I hope you don't find my million IMs annoying.
Rocketay: Yes! Thank you, I adore fluff too and I just love writing it. You're welcome!
Asphren: Wow, I love reading those. Thank you so much! I didn't really like that chapter, and I'm not sure if I really kept up any quality here, but I hope you still liked it. Thank you!
DecemberRome: First off, I love your name! And I can't believe you binged this but wow. Thanks. Your review was really nice and professional, so thank you. I don't usually get stuff this descriptive and I really liked it. I really liked how you said you got close to my characters, because I didn't really feel like I did that, and how you said the setting changed them, because I was trying to make them "normal" for that kind of society by not too OOC, so thanks! I totally got what you meant, by the way, and I'm so happy to see how much you liked this! I hope this chapter is good for you.
DemigodSassReaders: Oh, you're welcome, I hoped you guys would like that. Thank you so much for saying it was good, I seriously didn't really like it, but you are so nice! Thank you again! Here are the next two chapters!
Girlinthebasement: Hi! Wow, thank you! Sorry, I made you wait, but at least it's here now.
Aphrodite: I really, really like your name. Seriously. I think she might be my grandmother. Anyway, that was really nice to read, thank you! I was pretty much saying that too as I wrote it.
Chapter 17
FantasyQueen2509: Hi! Wow, I can't believe you've reviewed for basically ever chapter! And I can't believe you liked this so much and actually picked the last one because seriously, it wasn't that good. Yeah, you were talking about Piper grilling Annabeth and I was like, actually, I might as well do that so there was it. It didn't make it as gossipy as I'm sure you would have wanted it, and honestly, I'm wishing I did, but whatever, the past is in the past. Thank you so much for the last part, I think I almost gave up on Chapter 3 too, but luckily, I'm still here. Trust me, I gave up on most of my other stories, it's just that I know that somebody's reading this and I don't want to disappoint them.